On the 4th June last year I was in Cape Town with my beloved family to toast to the beginning of my 33rd year of life. We were brought together not by this milestone, but to mourn and celebrate the death and life of my father’s mother, yet were deeply grateful for being together. One … More Birthday Memories
Consistently finding peace in my heart, despite all external pressures and events, whenever I turn my focus inwards. A warm, dry vehicle when rain is softly soaking the earth. Breathing into patience, and letting it subdue frustration. The comfort of warm vegetable soup when the family is tired and not in perfect health. Unwinding into … More Gratitude
Soles joy-blistered from Dancing in the autumn gold, Bidding welcome to darknening days. I threw back my head and laughed, whooped In a room of swirling energy and shared delight. We twirled and leapt, Stomped and stretched, Sweated our prayers and opened our hearts As we bid farewells to old patterns And cleared space for … More Autumn Equinox
His words have replayed in my mind many times since they were delivered, gently and following a warm hug, this morning: “You’re a powerful woman, Laurel, and you need to reflect carefully on where you choose to put your focus.” I find myself in tears again at the feeling of loss evoked each time I … More Letting Go
My immediate consciousness upon waking was the brightness of the light and the exquisiteness of the song, just seconds before it cut – mid-lyric – to silence. I, capturer of lyrics and memories, could recall only the outline of the voice. ‘Who was that?’ I asked, not quite sure I was awake, yet aware of … More Sleep-drenched
Trawling through my old poetry file, I stumbled across these deeply familiar yet long-forgotten words, which as a teenager I knew by heart: “I exist as I am, that is enough. If no other in the world be aware, I sit content. If each and all be aware, I sit content… I dote on myself; … More Song of Myself (from Walt Whitman’s ‘Leaves of Grass’)
“The only thing you can do for the dead is to sing to them. The hymn, the virology, the kaddish. In the ghettos, when a child died, the mother sang a lullaby. Because there was nothing else she could offer of her self, of her body. She made it up, a song of comfort, mentioning … More Singing to the dead
It’s a little unsettling when a complete stranger can tell you more about YOU than most people that know and love you. Here’s what a remarkable stranger had to tell me. Can you guess how she knew all this, without ever having spoken to me before? “You are mutable: changeable, adaptable, moving with the times. … More Self-understanding, acceptance and love
Posting old photos using various camera phones taken during my travels. filtering in black and white (obviously) and currently focusing on usa parks
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Laurel's Reflections 