Transition

I think it's fair to say this year has been eventful, especially the last 6 months.
2018 has forced me to face some (uncomfortable at times) challenges.
The most recent one has been to see the Kiwi fly the nest this month.
We made a decision a few months ago that our relationship was no longer serving us for the highest good. Life could have so easily have  continued to slip us by, comfortable within the limitations of our partnership.
For all sorts of reasons and after months of soul searching, I finally waved goodbye to the Kiwi who has set off on his own adventures to spend time with his own family in Oz and New Zealand. I wish him nothing but joy and happiness.

Among all the emotional turmoil, this month also saw the completion of a community campaign I set up at the beginning of the year involving 15 tree's being planted in our village in commemoration of the centurion of the end of the first world war. The idea started off by a painting and then some creative writing you can read and see the painting here
The avenue consists of 3 varieties of Cherry Blossom and each one will bare the name of the fallen men from our village on a brass plaque. I am really proud of what we have achieved and hope that they will be remembered for many years to come.

As I go past the trees now, bare leafed and stripped from all signs of life, I am reminded that come Springtime, life will spring forth once more. The naked branches will transform into their greatest potential giving life and service to all that take nourishment and enjoyment from them.

And so as I go about my own daily business this Winter, hibernation is all I have on my mind.

Just like the Cherry trees, I am shedding my leaves, I feel vulnerable, abandoned and sometimes afraid. But as I strip away the old ties and bonds that held me grounded for so long, I acknowledge this Winter is a time for deep reflection, healing and even re-invention, I won't be rushed and when I am ready, I will return to give service within my community.

This song has been carrying me through the darker moments.

Soldiers of the light (revised)

Trees not Guns
By Melissa Simm

Dear Soldiers of the light

As I stand amongst the poppies, I think of what I would write to you. I wish I could tell you that times are different. You like thousands of others, went out to war believing you would pave the way for a better world and yet here we are now, 2018. We still have much to learn.

Fear and hatred, they haven’t gone. But then war could never kill that, war never will, no matter how many guns are shot or bombs that fall.

I wonder what you felt whilst out on the battlefields. What went through your mind and heart when you killed your first man? And at what number did you get up to before you stopped counting? Did you ever see the pain and the suffering in your opposition’s eyes? Were you even aware they had souls too? Or did fear or hatred get in the way like it still does for many of us, even now.

Were you afraid? Were you brave? Did you cry? Were you in love? Because: Only love can truly win a war. I expect you know that now.

And when you went down, did it hurt? Was it painless, was it sudden or did you have to endure a long lingering death, alone and afraid? Because I would be, not of death itself, but of the realisation of true horror we can inflict on another fellow being.

You ought to know, that as you went down, you also went down in history. Your names are inscribed on a plaque in St Nicholas Church, a reminder how war can tear countries and lives apart. A reminder to us all of your sacrifice.

And as we commemorate the 100th year of the ending of the Great War, 14 trees have been planted in the village in your memory. A lasting tribute to your bravery and courage.

A small token gesture to show that we can all choose to make our world a better place. Perhaps we can all be soldiers of light and because hope can make us believe that love and peace can one day prevail.

Thank you and God Bless.