Soulful Sunday #33: Every Great Dream

Welcome to my thirty-third instalment of ‘Soulful Sundays’. A weekly share where I post a roundup of soulful reflections, each including recipes, songs, quotes, blogs I have read and/or any other inspirational discoveries to sooth the soul.

For me, Sunday’s have become a day of quiet contemplation and simple pleasures. A time to reflect on the week gone by and to consider my hopes and dreams for the week ahead.

My hope is to extend some love outward and to share some simple pleasures with anyone who cares to receive them.

Soul Reflections

“Quit daydreaming…” “Get your head out of the clouds…” “Those things don’t happen to people like us…”

From a very early age we have been led to believe that dreaming is for the absent minded, for those who live in a world of make believe. I once knew someone who was so proud of their ability to think logically, they believed logic equated to truth and anything else was complete fantasy.  But even Albert Einstein knew that:

Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere.

– Albert Einstein

Never stop dreaming. The world needs more dreamers. Dreams are Divine whispers of the soul guiding us toward inspired action – so get still and listen. When we follow our bliss we live a life on purpose. Aligned with our hearts truest wishes, we give others permission to follow their dreams, to spread their joy with the world.

Today, be unafraid to dream. Remember that you are a limitless being with the ability to create the life you intended to live. If you can dream it, then you can do it.

Soul Strolls

I have been very lucky lately with plenty of house sitting opportunities arriving just in time to see me with a place to stay. I feel blessed to have friends with pets who need a pet sitter whilst they are away on their travels. This has worked out perfectly since I am currently in search of fixed accommodation. The Universe really does have ways of taking care of everything… So long as we surrender and trust the in process of life. My most recent house sitting opportunity is located close to a beautiful park in Box Hill, Victoria. Wattle Park is the perfect sanctuary for dreamers like me.

Soul Food 

I have been very under the weather lately and have been loading up on fruits and veggies to flood my body with some well needed Vitamins and Minerals. Today I am re-sharing my favourite Kiwi & Kale green juice recipe just in case you too need a delicious boost of goodness!

Soul Music

Since today is for dreaming, I am sharing Gabrielle’s Dreams. This track takes me back to my teenage years when I lost sight of my dreams for some time. Let’s remind ourselves that ‘dreams can come true.’

Soul Sisters

I would love to share this simple yet powerful poem by Chole about the importance of listening beyond the voice to reach our hearts, our souls. Head on over for an inspirational poem.

May you keep your heads in the clouds and your dreams close to your hearts. This Sunday is for dreaming. Dream big.

In love & light,

Hayley xx

The Changing of The Seasons

The first day of September, the beginning of a new season. And with every new season there comes change.

If you are in the Northern hemisphere, Autumn is upon you. A time when the trees begin to shed their outgrown leaves. A time when, you too, can turn over a new leaf. Despite this shedding of the past, the ground is decorated in rich reds, yellows, oranges and greens. The path before you is colourful. So take a walk. Breath in the crisp Autumn air as you step into this season of release. A season for laying new foundations.

If you are in the Southern hemisphere, today marks the first day of Spring. Spring is a time for growth and renewal, as you emerge from the season of hibernation. The days are becoming longer; flowers bloom and burst with colour; fresh pinks and yellows and blues. Consider the freshness of Spring. What life do you wish to breathe into this season of growth?  A season for new beginnings and expansion.

As sure as the tides ebb and flow, with every season there comes change.

Self Hate

I came across this talented writer today and felt compelled to share her breathtakingly beautiful poem. It speaks to the heart and reinforces the power and unique beauty of each and every one of us. A beauty that sadly, so many of us forget.

With so much media and airbrushing and ‘ideals’ – Dainty M’s poem reminds us of the importance of loving ourselves; accepting ourselves. For we are all children of God and created perfectly in His vision.

Thank you Dainty M for this wonderful piece written from the heart.

xx

Dainty M.

I hate my body, she said, 

And my heart sank

Because clearly she didn’t think I did a good job creating her 

She began to pull chunks of flesh that I had so intricately formed 

She pointed at spots that I had used to punctuate her perfect skin 

 

I hate my body, he said 

As he used his skin as a canvass for artwork 

Soon enough it was hard to tell his skin tone 

As all I could see were tattoos carved on the skin I had taken so much time to form 

 

I hate my body she said 

As she cut herself up 

Absorbing all the drugs she could 

Just to take her mind off her hurt and insecurities 

 

I hate how I look! He yelled 

Abusing substance more than one could imagine 

Getting so high 

Surely he was about to fall 

 

Why did you…

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The Staff Room Spread

Day 10, Let the scene write itself

My life is mostly spent between home and work lately, so I decided to take inspiration from the staff room since home life offered little in the way of a ‘scene’. Sitting in the staff room, I wrote about the daily battle I witness most days (and experience myself at times) when my colleagues and I are met with a table laden with biscuits and cake from some birthday or celebration; the boss saying ‘thank you’ for our hard work and efforts; the cook getting rid of her left over banoffee pie or cheese cake that wont keep until tomorrow – and decided to turn this scene into a poem with a touch of humor.

“Oh I shouldn’t!” we say – but we do.
“I’m not having any!” Then return, and take two.
We sigh at their presence and tempting existence,
And, succumbing, we scorn at our feeble resistance.

“That’s it! I’ve had one, now I may as well have more!”
“Lorna, cut me a slice the size of a door!”
“Don’t beat yourself up! Have a piece of that!”
(because if you eat some too then I wont feel so fat!)

“I shouldn’t be eating these…” as ten sweets are consumed,
“Y’know, I can’t understand how I’ve suddenly ballooned!”
“Oh – have another slice, it’s probably just stress.”
“Oh I can’t. Oh go on then! Do I look big in this dress?”

(Chorus) “YESS!!!”

Broken Promise

Writing 101, Day 4: A story in a single image

Here I stand as I have stood each day
since you were stolen.
And I would have you by my side should my promise
have not been broken.

My promise to Mother to keep you safe and
Never leave your side.
I told you I was collecting conkers, please forgive me
for that day, I lied.

‘Wait here!’ I said, ‘It’s denser there, not
safe for you to come.’
And off I ran to meet a boy, my
promise was undone.

Your large anxious, quizzical eyes
watched as I did part.
Clutching Bunny, your final wave engraved with
daggers on my heart.

Ten minutes I was gone for but that
time was all it took,
For you to wander some with Bunny, for you to
fall into the brook.

Rows of trees in which we played; leaves
lifted by our laughter.
Now stand before me like forgotten graves and will
Forever after.

Home

Writing 101, Day 3: One-word inspiration

Sometimes, a single word is all you need to get your mind’s wheels turning.

The word I chose was ‘home’. I must still be in the mindset of last month’s Poetry 201 Challenge since I decided to write in the form of a poem. I have never seen myself as a poet, yet I do hope you enjoy my take on ‘home’.

Tell me, where is home?
Is it the place that one has always known?
Or the place where time is spent the most
In between travelling from coast to coast?

And tell me, am I alone,
That I should not identify with home?
Those familiar scents of toast and wood,
Reviving memories of all things good.

And please Sir, what of home,
If you should spend your days there all alone?
No callers since your family has flown.
Would this remain your safe, sacred home?

What say you? What is home?
For should I settle and no longer roam,
I shall coin a bosom to safely lay
A fine home of heart to see out my days.

Mourning Dove

Poetry, Day 10: Pleasure, Sonnet, Apostrophe

To know you, to hold you; is a blessing;
Forgo you I shall not, be mine to keep.
And although there are times I am stressing,
you hold me close should I grow tired and weep.

You bring with you the scent of morning dew,
Your dewy droplets rain upon my face.
Washing away my weariness and blues;
Showering me with your love and your grace.

Bequeathed to me your boundless wells of love;
A gift I cannot keep for only me,
But how to awaken this mourning dove,
When her wings remain folded at her feet?

Lift these shrouds so she might fly
you are her wind, her stars and sky.

What if?

Poetry Day 9: Cold, Concrete Poem, Anaphora/Epistrophe

Bittersweet

Poetry Day 8: Flavour, Elegy, Enumeratio

Eager feet are stretched on tiny tiptoes at the gate,

Her faced is pressed against the slats, she waits.

Occasionally she retreats to make a daisy chain or two,

She’s been waiting there since lunch, waiting just for you.

And never was there a time that you should arrive late,

But for a child unbound by time, it is best to wait all day.

Picking at the grass a little and humming her idle tune,

She climbs atop the lower slat to steal a better view.

And there, as night does follow day, at the foot of the hill she see’s

Your jet black hair and smiling face; “He’s here he’s here!” she squeals.

And whirling with delight and joy she watches as you near

The best feeling in her world is when she has you here.

Your weekly visits are her joy, her sweet chocolate-raisin treat;

Her walnut whip, her Beano mag, her dance upon your feet;

Her bear hugs and her tickles and her favorite matchbox cars;

Her message in a bottle, purple rain and air guitars.

Those days, though gone, they do live on forever in her heart.

But never has it been the same since the day you had to part.

Chocolate raisins now taste bittersweet upon her tongue,

And as the days turn into years she wonders if she’s waited long.

Eager feet are stretched on tiny tiptoes at the gate,

Her faced is pressed against the slats – she waits.

Tameside

Poetry, Day 7: Neighborhood, Ballad, Assonance

The streets are decorated there
In dirty paper hues.
The beauty seems to disappear
Beneath the litter strewn.

The whole town seems to wear a shroud
A deeper shade of grey.
The sun is masked behind the clouds
And rarely comes to play.

As people walk their faces bent
Against the bitter rain,
Those souls who leave wish to repent;
those who stay refuse to change.

Red bricked houses line the pavements
Like tightly packed sardines.
Inside, souls yearn for the day when
One can fulfill life’s dreams.