Year of Love and Light

Year of Love and Light

Having embraced and been embraced by innumerable different experiences in recent years, I know I am not alone in describing 2018 as a year of reflection and withdrawal, of letting go and welcoming, of opening and accepting, of travelling and finding, and staying home and re-discovering – of diverse and wondrous people, places, and events, and of deep learning and a resultant sense of stillness, readiness and calm.

I am constantly amazed by the way in which people, ideas, and possibilities arrive – perfectly on cue, bestowing gifts of immense beauty and joy; and how the riches of my interior world shine like jewels. I have taken time this year to gather and gaze on my inner resources, realising ever more how vital it is for us to recognise and reflect on our gifts and talents, and release them to the world for greater good.

I sense that 2019 is about to be a year of great actions and emergence, of being and essence. And of Love.

I invite you to join with me, in spirit, around the image and memory of our symbolic Festive tree, and begin to share what I passionately believe is beginning, right now –

A Year of Love & Light

We Welcome You,
In Love,
With Love,
Warmly,
Joyfully.

We welcome you.
Certain,
Fearless,
With Heart,
And with Soul.

We welcome you.
Gentler,
Stronger,
Deeper,
From Within.

We welcome you.
Subtly,
With Faith,
In Hope,
Powerful.

We welcome you.
As Truth,
Shining,
Bright Peace,
For All Souls.

With Love,

Christine


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Come to Love

Come to Love

A Love that simply is….

I am deeply engaged in the process of bringing together a new volume of poems called ‘Courage to Love’, to accompany my major work and research on Love in Organisations – the Love at Work project – and this seems like a good time to give you a sneak preview.

This poem is called ‘Come to Love’ and it’s a little alternative in its view of Love.

It’s really a statement that hearts and flowers and romance are not the essence of lasting love. We need more of the kind of love that endures and grows, standing up to all kinds of challenges and upsets, just like every aspect of human life.

A Love that is present not only between couples and in families, but throughout our lives, including our work, our politics, and the way we engage with nature and the environment – in fact, throughout the planet, even the cosmos.

I like to think of us rising and standing in love, strong and courageous and loyal, collectively, rather than falling in love and being infatuated, on a hormonal high which inevitably recedes and leaves us wondering what we saw in that person in the first place.

A Love that simply Is…
Not always easy, but one we know will endure the ups, downs and broadsides of human life.

Come to Love

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And she brought me Snowdrops

And she brought me Snowdrops

And she brought me snowdrops Christine Miller

And she brought me Snowdrops…

Sharp strands slicing,
Stinging swallows:
Tiny throat cut,
No mercy.

Crisp cold whiteness
Thin flat sheets
Hard steel
Metal, framed.

Voice silenced;
No sound emits.
No signal –
No response.

The vast space
Echoes briskly
Attendants bustle
No relief.

Trickle of tears,
Lonely tracks
Tracing patterns,
Still, alone.

Plucked from home,
Separated,
Before three springs,
Untimely rift.

Sudden sense,
Familiar tone,
Eternal smile,
Soft arms enfold.

And She, salvation,
Maternal, golden,
Of radiant warmth,
Brought me Snowdrops.

© Christine Miller

 

This poem arose from seeing a film on the BBC’s ‘The Great British Year’ of a February woodland garden in Gloucestershire, filled with snowdrops in bloom, their delicacy and beauty carpeting the ground with that fabulous first sign of winter’s end approaching.

Tears sprang to my eyes as I recalled with great clarity the time when I was about two and a half years old when I had my tonsils out. I still have strong memories of this. I can see clearly the area pre-theatre where gas cylinders and bottles of blood were stored, I feel the cold crisp linen of the hospital bed and the hard metal bars that kept me imprisoned there. I recall not being able to call out to the nurses for help. I remember the pain of my raw throat, and, acutely, the loneliness.

My beautiful Mother, Jane

In those distant days when I was little, parents weren’t allowed into hospital with their children, and visiting hours were very strictly enforced. I was desolate, in pain,  and afraid, and when my mother did arrive with a beautiful bunch of snowdrops, and a pretty little silver hair slide, which I treasured for years, I was filled with joy and relief. Thank goodness things have changed now and children are not separated from their parents in this way – we have learned a lot about that need for love, connection and contact.

The image of those snowdrops is still fresh in my mind, all these years later, and as I watched the scene in the film, these words, ‘And she brought me snowdrops’, erupted superbly into my consciousness and demanded to be expanded, expressed and offered as a token of gratitude and Love to my dearly departed mother, whose healing, radiant presence is still with me every day.

I dedicate this to all poets, everyone, everywhere, may your creativity flow with abundance.

 

© Christine Miller – first published for National Poet’s Day 2013

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Being Inspired

Being Inspired

Finding Inspiration

Lyme is a favourite seaside resort which is famous for its Heritage Coast rich in fossils dating back to the Jurassic period. It’s a quaintly attractive town with many artists and writers, wonderful walks and scenery and the world famous Cobb harbour is a major draw – “not just for its visual splendour and its magnificent naval architecture, but also for its connections with great literature. Indeed people come from all over the world to see the steps where Louisa Musgrove fell in Jane Austen’s Persuasion; or to see where Meryl Streep stood, looking forlornly out to sea, in the film adaptation of John Fowles’ The French Lieutenant’s Woman.” (http://www.lymeregistourism.co.uk/tour)

This poem was inspired by the amazing full moon which shone splendidly as I was returning home during a time I spent there writing.

Poem written in Lyme Regis

Poem written in Lyme Regis


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