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Utterance from the soul
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Close to my heart

Utterance from the soul

You Are Breaking With Purpose

All the those incredible strengths
you thought you lost in the rumble of your undoing 
are being cleaned and cleared
of trauma and wounding.
They will be reassembled within you whole and healed
and more powerful than you can conceive.

A 5-D version of yourself,
that you have yet to remember,
is gently awaiting your arrival outside of time.
There is a path you laid
before your imagined beginning
that leads you there.
Keep breaking... disintegrate, lose every story
you’ve built of the world.
As the walls under the walls crumble
you will find the expanse of universe within you.

Trust your heartlight to ferry you

across the threshold of time.

Time as a Torus

Pondering the idea of time as a torus.
The center being the present,
the now,
and rather than moving through time,
time moves through us.
An infinite number of probable futures moving towards us
as a wave
consolidating into matter
via unconscious attachment
to imprinting, gene expression, memory etc.
into an observed now
and in the same now
expanding outward
from matter
into a wave
becoming an infinite number of pasts.
Our decisions and interactions with the world
self select and condense the past into what comes back around
presenting as future
that impacts the now
over and over and over.
Which creates the fractal patterns of our lives.
This underscores that we are constantly manifesting our lives whether or not we are consciously aware.


Falling in Love

Maybe love is so expansive
that time gets soft and transparent...

That in that delirious
long slow
of the universe
the atoms around you
approach a still point,
so that
matter releases it’s tension...

and that expanse is what feels
like falling

into love


where you are.

Duality versus Non-Duality

Ask your heart to reveal to you the secrets of the universe.
The head has no clue,
it is puny and rigid and far too dedicated to itself to understand.
It argues duality versus non-duality.
It cannot comprehend that they not
only exist both at once, both true
and not true, but so much more.

Ones and zeros popping in and out of existence together,
apart, in the past and/or the present and/or the future and/or side universes
and little black holes and tiny pocket universes compartmentalising space-time
running in loops regurgitating a particular past, a particular future into the now.
Even this is just a brain making words of it. Really it must be felt.
The brain may be able to access higher dimensions but your heart
when open accesses infinity. Breath through your heart and ask it your questions.
You will fall to your knees in wonderment. Even then as you feel it is all too much,
so much you might disappear, so much you might become everything at once,
even then you have only peeked through a pinhole. 

A Letter of Love

Somewhere in my depths,
I felt the ego threatened by our inherent connection,
dragging the ill-equiped inner child into the light,
using her innocence and naïvety 
to sabotage the potential.
Using her to serve ego's deep desire to be
the sole influencer of the self. Always afraid of being
the odd one out,
the third wheel to our soul and self.

The ultimate compliment it could give you is that you threaten it's existence.

Our inner children only know the shadows of Plato's cave. Fairy tale connections, ancient stories carved into the walls of our DNA.

The child fantasised knightly attributes that she cast on to you. When your movements didn't match her hero's promised unfolding, 
the secret villain of every story, grasped her disappointment with revelry,
certain it could be mixed into the caves fire,
the alchemical ingredient to the undoing.
Ego stoked the flames into shadow-driven dances that fearfully played out on the walls... abandonment, unworthiness, rejection.
Gripped by the shadows and the portended death of yet another champion, she was unaware that it was her face, always her face, hidden within the armoured figure she sought. The clues etched deep into the gilded metal are a catalog of narratives depicting the heroine's journey. This engraved mural, beautifully traversing the sabatons to the bascinet, is a pictorial guide of proverbial dragons slain, all with her as the central figure.
Her "imagined you"
becomes a window into my wounds,
the physical you,
a fleshy backdrop for an ego's projections.

I hold her close, I lift, I clear, I analyse,
I lift, clear, analyse some more.
I feel a chill of metal pass over my cheek as my gauntlet caresses her tears.

Her story's arc resets...
we live to love another day.

The you that is your soul,
a hero in your own right,
is rebirthed from the ashes
with the promise of a potent fable to emerge,

lessons earned by our souls and inner children, always the mirrors, always the teachers.

Peeking through the Pinhole

The people who have peeked through the pinhole
to the secrets of the universe
discover there is nothing to fix,
nothing to change.
They experience a peace,
a grounded understanding
that cannot be conceived
until it can be.

These people hold you where you are,
you feel perfect and whole and loved.
Loved as if you've seen the secrets with them,
because they know somewhere inside us all
they are there to be rediscovered.
To be re-awoken.

There is nothing to teach me
and everything I want to learn from them.

This is the higher dimension beyond space and time
that calls me home to remember the truer truths.
It is the other side of suffering
It is the perfection of chaos and the bliss of oneness. 

Although I journey there,
a truer truth is that I am there
and it's only the reawakening
that is called forth in me.


Gratitude, to me, is not about being blind to the pain in the world, it about being mindful about the beauty.
Exercising my eyes and ears and heart to notice the gorgeous events unfolding around me.

The Universe Breathing

I am... whole, I am... broken
I am... suffering, I am... bliss 
I am... everything, I am... nothing
I am... human, I am... spirit
I am... singular, I am... all that is

This is the universe
Breathing in... Breathing out...
Through you.

You ARE the universe breathing.
Don't dismiss the inhale,
don't fight the exhale.

To deny the dichotomy is tantamount to holding the breath of the divine flowing through you. Surrendering to the rhythm, is to bring the breath in sync with all that is.

Whether you're consciously aware or not you are infinitely lassoing light waves and manifesting them into particles, into being, with simple intention. Begin to flow with the tragedy and ecstasy, all the fullness and the emptiness that is your spirit embodied.

The breath is synchronicity, and you'll find this is where you can begin to effortlessly tap into your divine Grace. This is where all forms of magic and miracles happen.

Remember all that you are

Alive and kicking

Hello beautiful souls!

I have come out the other side of cancer treatment having cleared out and transformed all kinds of old patterns and crude. A true spiritual journey. I still have a few medical things to sort but I wanted to stop in and thank you all for continuing to visit and share this site. I hope to be shaking up my life this coming year with many new adventures. Looking for fellow tribe mates to collaborate with and ways to give you more direct access to me. Also searching for a base camp in the US to begin to expand workshops to North Americca and Europe.

I hope this message finds you well. I'd love to hear from you.

Much love,


A Necessary Break

Merrily is currently undergoing chemotherapy followed by radiation to treat breast cancer. She will be taking a break from most work through to October of this year. She will do some updates on her Facebook page. She sends heaps of love to you all. 

I am...

A woman lay in a meadow gazing up into the evening heavens whispering wishes into the darkness. Tentatively she asked "Star, come and feel the moist soft grass with me?"

The star answered. "I am..."

The woman said "Star, come and feel cool gentle breeze with me?"

The star answered "I am..."

The woman said "Star, come and listen to the crickets and owls and sounds of night?"

The star answered "I am..."

The woman frustrate said, "But you're not! You are millions upon millions of miles away and I am alone and lonely, come and share the night with me."

The star only responded "I am..."

Angry the woman grab a rock and threw it towards the night sky. She paused then heard a soft thud as the stone landed in the darkness echoing her sense of isolation.

Feeling denied her wishes, the grass felt wet, the breeze was now cold and the sounds of the night were jarring and harsh.

She felt miserable and abandoned. The night had been beautiful within the hope of sharing it.

It was in the thought of loss and separation that it change.

One last time she pleaded to the star "Please join me?"

The star then answered "I am... I am a part of you, in every essence you are made from me, before your imagined beginning to beyond your imagined end I am with you... I am in the grass and the breeze and in the heart of the sounds of the night...

and you are in me.

You were never alone, it's only your thoughts that have made it so.

The woman felt her skin tingle. She began to be aware she was vibrating, a high singing vibration that made her feel weightless, almost transparent. As the resonation grew it was if the whole universe was collapsing into a single singing bubble around her.

Everything was vibrating through her, in her, like cords in a vast symphony.... the grass, the breeze, every flutter, every movement. Deserts and oceans, mountains and streams, the stars, the moon, galaxy upon galaxy... All within her reach. She saw herself in it all and all of it inside her.

She slowly rose as if in a dream, her eyes wet with tears. Her heart was so full that it overflowed into every essence of her being. She felt every atom dancing... there was no beginning and no end. Like starlight, she was beaming a soft gentle glow. She did not speak but only raised her face to the heavens and breathed in the night air. She was bathed in starlight and it danced within the reflection in her eyes. If you looked closely, there you would find universe upon universe inside her.

The Bravest Person You Know

You are the bravest person you know.

I know you don't believe me...

Whether you are soaring over mountains or buried in a hole.

You are the bravest person you know.

No one can completely understand what it's taken for you to get to this moment in life,
but your courage is just that, yours...


You are heroic.

Authentic People

I love authentic people.

I love people who do not craft their words to their best advantage
but let their words spill from their lips and their heart.
Full of ums, ahs and searching eyes or racing and fumbling with the urgency of a story to share.

When they speak I can see right into their eyes and down to their soul and I know them.
These people are gorgeous and fallable and perfectly human
 and I can't help falling in love with their hearts everytime.


If we surround ourselves with people who think just like us, atrophy sets in.

We close tighter and tighter around shared beliefs
and people outside those beliefs become a threat.

We cement stories of right and wrong,
good and bad until those stories become our reality.

We are left unchallenged
and divided
from the infinite combinations of beliefs and ideas held by our diverse world.


Plunking me on top of the fridge as a child…
he showed me a change of perspective is profound
and a little risk is good.

Racing around on all fours through the house,
his growls drowned out by his little girl’s giggles,
he taught me that having fun
is more important than looking good. 

Answering my questions with part of the answer,
then asking me a question back,
he made me think critically,
take ownership of my learning
and experience the success of my own discovery.

Dad always wanted to make it better.
He would visit my home and the first order of business was “What needs fixin’”.
From the best way to roll a garden hose, to what to use on a squeaky door,
he didn’t just want it fixed.
He wanted you to learn how...

just in case…
he wasn’t around…
he’d know you’d be okay.

He needed to share his loves.
Heck, he just needed to share anything and everything that was exciting to him. 
And new things popped up every day.

He would “suggest” you read an article in Aviation Weekly.
If you did not read it then and there,
you would elicit a glimmer of dejection and a hint of a pout.

He shared his smoked rib recipe…
along with a new smoker
the correct wood chips
so you could make them right away.

A particularly good Hagar the Horrible comic strip would be passed over to you with a boyish smile
and a chuckle
as he watched in sincere anticipation of your laughter.

Over the years he fed the fish in the lake for a week in advance of a visit
then contently relished the squeals of delight as his grandchildren caught fish after fish.

He loved to share his joy.
He just loved to love.
It shone out of him like a warm reassuring sunbeam.
That's why his mother called him Sunny. Because he was a ray of sunshine.

There is no question that he lives on through me. 
His lessons, his loves,
are now my lessons, my loves.
Laughing with my children until we cry,
singing off key at the top of our lungs, making silly faces…
All are Poppy living through us.

I believe he is still here with me now,
and he has a knowing…
a peace… 
a glimpse of something that eluded him in life…

I am safe,
I am protected,
I listened
and I carry him with me always.

Fall as Though Your Flying

The ties that bind are broken.
They whisper in the wind.

Let go My cherished little one.
There are bigger things to tend.

You may feel like you're falling.
But I hold you in My arms.

I've set a place before Me.
To you will come no harm.

So fall as though your flying.
Lift your face up to the sun.

I will guide you gently.
For you My Will be done.

Parents and The Blame Train

One day in my early 20's I was visiting with my mother and as scheduled I pulled up the "blame train" and started to unload onto her all the reason I felt she had failed me in my childhood. It was thick with anger and resentment. The usual ritual was that she would apologize and I would be indignant.

But this day was different and her words would free me and humble me to my core.

She took an exasperated breath,
and then spoke to me gently.

"Love, if I could go back and do it all differently I would...
but all I can tell you is this 

I did the best I could,

with what I knew,

at the time."

And it was true

she had...

I could see it all.
The love,
the sacrifice,
the heartache.

She was beautiful and perfectly human and she had loved me with everything she had...


Sometimes people's stories about you are so big that there is no room left for you in them.
It's like standing in front of a huge movie screen waving your arms and all they see is a small distortion in their projection.

When you let go of trying to be seen,
to correct their mistaken view of who you are,
it makes room for you to just be...


And you draw into your life people who see and love you exactly the way you are.

I Will Love You Enough Not To Play

I love the fallibility of our humanness.
Insecurity is a precious sign of vulnerability.

But I have no patience for head games.
They exhaust me.

I have no interest in being pulled into them.

I will not return a serve or counter a volley.
You will find the other side of the net empty except a racquet that was never picked up.

I will love you enough not to play.

Disco Ball

My parents told me I could be anything, 
do anything. 
So I never picked a box, you know the box, "if I do this job, I wear these clothes, have these friends, drive this car, live in this house, in this part of town, say these things ..." 

I think lots of people are being "not a box", it's made us an amalgamation or like a disco ball, 
depending on where you stand you might think I am 
rich, poor, 
humble, arrogant,
conservative, liberal,
rebellious or conforming... 
But I'm not any. 
The best you can find is a reflection of your own beliefs, values and assumption. 
So enjoy the reflection, check your profile, fix your hair and ask yourself if who you're looking at is you, or a story box version of you.

A Cry To Be Loved

When someone leans in close
to whisper a bit of gossip
or to complain about this or that...
They’re telling you a story.
A story of
their wounds,
their fears,
of little things they dislike about themselves
but have yet to see.
Their whispers say...
Don't see me,
look away,
I am not enough...
In these moments my heart aches
and I’m filled with empathy and compassion.
I do not hear gossip
or complaining
only cries to be loved…

Finding My Way Home

We are surrounded by "homeless" people.

Maybe you're "homeless" and you don't even know it. 

When events in our lives shatter our foundation we can unconsciously feel our bodies are no longer a safe place. 
This can happen in one earth shaking moment or it can be an insidiously slow barrage on our spirit.
We can end up living an "out of body" experience and not even realize it.

I've been "homeless" my whole life.
I have never been settle,
I've always been searching.

But as I put my shatter pieces back together I found that

everywhere I looked, I was already home
every friend I made was already family.

It was never the wrong place
or the wrong time
or the wrong person.
It was only that I had lost my way home...

to me.

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