The Hub Bubble Journal

  I had an interesting call to handle this morning. During the course of my regular calls to the line which I offer my service as a psychic reader I received a new caller. This person was so overwhelmed that someone she deeply had feelings for was suffering emotional pain due to loss that she felt a need to reach out with a message of love and support to the gentleman.  Her dilemma is that the person she clearly loves is already in a commitment with all of the trappings that come with being an integral part of an established unity. Though her call did not focus on anything of surprise to me as I receive many just like it her intensity was off the scale to reject any association with responsibility for her own happiness. On the one hand the person of interest concerned was always making everything all about him and pushing her aside. On the other hand she is aware he has past trauma regarding abandonment which he has disclosed to her. That he should take responsibility for his ...

He was the pied piper of dreams. Was the orchestra proud?! Tooting melodies serene; The orchestra sublime, glorious chorus bringing dusk, Pied proud glorious feathers of heavenly shades, Piper tooting chorus of beautiful birdsong velvet; Of melodies bringing heavenly birdsong in harmony, Dreams serene, dusk shades, velvet harmony ends. This challenge was to write a complete square poem of 7 lines x 7 words that display the same words vertically as well as horizontally, but forgiving of necessary punctuation, usually 24 hrs to complete. Absolute fun, not aimed to be a tongue twister though. I just couldn't bring myself to let go of this one. We do take for granted a lot of nature around us, maybe we don't even notice the birds a lot of the time, so to take time to recall the sounds and focus on not just how they make us feel but to bask in the wonder of how it must be for the birds ... to have this marvellous interaction with each other and create such beauty all around simply b...

  As far as an eye's stretch over the last lamb the flow of the heather sails flush against the sun; Belting out indigo waltzes hummed in tune with the wind turbines repeating whirl .. Sky to land, sky to land, sky to land, the last dance saved for the harvest moon. All the time layered between seed to plant creation of colour from the bee to the lover; From the slow, quick step, quick step, slow whipping air light spinning twirls... causing a fragrance to bleed  its flavour into the waking furrow. Nature can really dance aligned with us ... just know when the balance is right!

 I do not care that he did not say sorry. It pulls my heart only that he did not feel it. Coveting of my words - private, laid bare  and vulnerable, innermost feeling; not his experience, not his truth! Plunged like a wound to my soul. In the discovery not of his sharing my words  as his to own, not that, but in all the loss; I lost years .. staying, waiting, being unaware that all he did to bring me down, to discredit me, was done to hide his deed.  That thrashing of my soul was not innocent. It was contrived in every motion, gesture, hammered out. No emotion, he was not present, not ever with me. He knows yet still hides and exalts himself. He cannot see beyond the perimeter I know is there. This makes me sad for life, for truth is never his, nor will be. He cannot release his inner self. I have a way to let go of my pain that is bereft to him. We can all be hurt by betrayal but the hardest part of any experience is to have to accept that no matter how much you car...

  Campassion tilts the heart, until ready to pour. If there was any evidence of where love had begun; If I could plunge my hand into the belly of my soul, to bring forth the sapling of its origin, crisp and fresh; As the newborn truth of my desire for your happiness, would your doubts be quenched ... or recomposed as fears? In our quests to express the bond with what we know within and the frustrations we can feel to the lack of awareness in others ... it is in that wise moment that the deep truth touches us to reach toward compassion ... the tilting heart is always open.

 Seasons skip, the foxgloves refuse. An array is imminent, they have learned the wall but not the sun; elegance but no scent. A small buff moth is thrown to the cool breeze, lost nomad seeking shelter dances into the shadows; no charisma without light. Tomorrow the sky may shimmer as foxgloves yawn to the warmth, sunkissed silhouettes caressing the wall like rain. Everything around us will remind us of just how glorious all life is, how every living organism depends on another ... all can change, be affected by the elements one on another. Precious nature relies on our protection. 

 You told me that the butterfly would always bring me news, Your presence I could count upon if she did dance around my shoes. When I woke up I wished for one to bring you close to me, Then as I sat out in the sun she sought to land upon my knee. Now my eyes pool silver rain as I look down to greet  A splendid butterfly ballet all spritely around my feet. We don't always see what or who is around us in our every day pursuits or take the time to realise just how beautiful and important every being we are connected to is. How wonderful to know this presence even though it may not be in our immediate gaze.