A life's mission...
Sat in a deckchair, on the balcony
Light of dawn sweetly breaches
Kissing pastel peaches
On my cheeks
Strawberry
From the coolness of a day not yet limbered
And it dawns on me
Why I’m here
Not in the deckchair
Or on the balcony
But here as in within my skin
And I whisper the words
My mission
My duty
Be love be love be love
With this whisper my body bellows back
Each cell combusts in compassion
Every hair reaches out a hand
Passion permeating out of my skin
Pimpled with prickles of truth
Although I shiver, it not for the wind
That swooshes whistles and whoops
Be love be love be love
Now the sun gladly bathes me
Beaming with a great smile
Praisingly it hails
Be love be love be love
Above me swallows swim merrily
Upon the wave of the whooping wind
I hear them sing
Be love be love be love
Below in the ancient olive grove
Commotion occurs amongst crookedly trees
They cheer
What they’ve known for centuries
Be love be love be love
Sheep hooves rattle and clatter
Bees buoyantly bounce in delight
Dogs ball in laughter
A stream screams with excite
I whisper whilst the whole world roars back
Be love be love be love
I wrote this poem when I was on holiday in Greece with my Mum and Dad. I had not long come home from my first big trip around Southeast Asia and it felt like a special opportunity to spend some quality time with my parents. Going on a family holiday typically included my brother Ed, but he was still travelling in Australia and so on this rare occasion it was just my parents and I.
The three of us coming together, situated on the pretty island of Skiathos, illuminated how our family dynamic shifts and evolves as the years go by. As I grow older, especially with a particular kind of maturing that occurs through the process of travelling, I now see my parents more as the individual humans that they are, with less of an emphasis on the ‘parent’ identification. I feel them more as friends, rather than placing them on the pedestal of parenthood. If anything, the roles seem to be reversing, and I am enjoying taking care of my parents in ways I haven’t before. Gladly I will do what I can to express my gratitude for all their years of devoted service, it hasn’t always been easy.
Our little villa was perched high up on the steep sloping hillside of a very charming, if not slightly merciless hill. The Greek countryside has a certain magical quality to it; the beautiful concoction of herbal aroma wafting through the air; wiry shrubbery tenaciously twisting up from the arid dry soil and old olive trees with bark that is as leathery and ridged as the old olive-skinned fishermen, their eyes glistening with a life well lived, rich stories and wisdom to share.
To arrive at the villa meant revving up the narrow winding roads in 1st gear – as exhilarating as any rollercoaster! I was fortunate to have a room on the top floor with my own balcony overlooking the island below and across the ocean to a neighbouring island. The mornings had a crisp edge carried by the breeze and upon midday the heat would have significantly increased.
I would wake up at 6 for the sunrise. Sunrise is one of my favourite times of the day. The air still, undisturbed by the motions of the day, a peace and quietness infuse the atmosphere, so much potentiality waiting to be explored… but not yet, for now, relishing in extended moments of pause. Slowly I would ease into the expanding space in my body, breath inhabiting more of my lungs as I move into my morning yoga practice. After which, I would make a 3 cups of coffee, deliver two cups to my parents and take mine to absorb the final awakenings of the morning, as the sun invigorates vitality into the world below it.
I had a book with me called ‘The Science of Self Realisation’ written by Satguru Sri Ramana Devi. I’d been to see her just a short while before the holiday and felt very inspired by her message. This book had sucked me in, to the extent it would spit me back out as I drift off staring into space, pondering on the words on the page.
It was one morning, up on my balcony, the air still and crisp, after reading a couple of pages that a wave of quiet washed over me. Whilst looking over the mangled olive groves, the peachy light bathing the hillside and twinkling across the sea, this feeling arose. How can something that feels so quiet, roar within me so loudly. How can overlooking that hillside feel like looking inside and ignite such a deep resonance with all that my senses encounter. And what felt so blazingly true, was this feeling of Love moving through it all.
This is what inspired the poem. Words feel so frustratingly limited at times but I am grateful that a humble compilation can remind me of a time and a certain essence. Maybe you can feel it too, maybe you can’t, it doesn’t really matter. But if this did inspire something for you, I’d love to know, please get in touch.
Written with Love,
Ursula
