Posts by Tara Rose

“I love how you take something from a day and write it in a beautiful way,” he said, eyes shining bright as stars in the night with appreciation in his heart. “Well, it’s not hard, when it was beautiful to start,” she replied, smile wide, lost in his unbelievable blue eyes.

Lazy, not-so lazy Sunday, Nothing to do but cleaning, sweeping, dishes, laundry. Writing, sorting, spreadsheets. Poetry and daydreaming about how much I want to be doing all of this with you.

What is love? Psychologists give many theories. As do neuroscientists, anthropologists and philosophers. But I will stick with the musicians, romantics and painters. And, of course, the poets. Ahhhh, the poets. And keep on meeting you in love. Cuddling, talking, laughing, sharing, dreaming, growing, deepening, softening, flowing, kissing, licking, holding, caressing, sighing, moaning. Making love…

A friend gave me a gift for my initiation ceremony. A beautiful, large conch shell. There was a condition. If I stopped training with my teacher, I needed to return the shell. I didn’t think much of it at the time. Six months later, I left the teacher. One year later, I am now returning…

The perfect moment, in the perfect bar, on a perfect couch, with perfect cockroaches on the perfect wall, having a perfect conversation, next to a perfect couple, sharing the perfect drink, when he leaned over and gave her a perfect kiss.

Lost in a sea of cushions. Lost in eggs. Lost in caffeine. Lost in winding conversation. Lost in real life stuff. Lost in friendship. Lost in connection. Lost in swimming in the spaciousness between. So lost. Yet, so found.

“So sensual. So tantric. Starts as a poem, then becomes a story, then becomes a life philosophy….” Ah, my beautiful friend, thank you for seeing me, for feeling me so deeply. Words directly from your heart find the cracks in my body armour, pierce into my heart and detonate it open.

Letting the hot fire of “you’re not good enough” rage in my body. Quelling the mind’s attempts to extinguish the pain. Watching the deeply buried trauma nodes burn, burn, burn. Sitting on the pyre of my past. In deep gratitude for the being I am today. That is learning to feel so much. In deep…

I witness you shedding your life, Shaking off old skin as you sit in the fire. Visions, clear, shining one moment, Muddied the next. Let the weight of your being relax. Allow yourself to be guided, carried. Your new home, in all its splendour, awaits.

Sitting on raw earth We offering ourselves. Blood to dust. In love we trust. Calling in your womb lineages. Calling in mine. Receive the transmission from my DNA, my stem cells. No more pain. Spread the ash of the old over your body as an honouring. My blood speaks to your body. Circling around your…