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Hello and welcome to my blog formerly called Gypsy-K. Please note that I am only updating this blog while I am walking from Rome to Jerusalem from September 2015. My online home and permanent blog is at You can also sign up for pilgrim postcards and newsletters here. Thank you for being here and supporting my journey. With love and courage, Kym xx

Friday, 26 October 2012

The Evolution of a Rose

There is an Italian proverb that says, "To him that watches, everything is revealed."

I am learning to pay attention to this world. 

Beauty reveals itself in different ways.

When I watch, and notice, I hear the whispers, "This is what life is about."

"When you notice something clearly and see it vividly, it then becomes sacred." - Allan Ginsberg

"Just Joey" roses in our front garden, 10th September 2012

15th September 2012

1st October 2012
1st October 2012

12th October 2012

15th October 2012

19th October 2012

19th October 2012

19th October 2012

20th October 2012

24th October 2012

24th October 2012

25th October 2012

25th October 2012

Sunday, 21 October 2012

A poem: Over night the roses bloomed

Over night the roses bloomed
or maybe it was yesterday
when I was at work
high above the city streets.
in a surreal world of emails and tasks.
my back to the natural world.
the cumulus clouds float over the bay.
The silvery sheen of the perfectly flat pool
carries tankers and ferries out of port
into the terrors of the strait
as I have seen before.

And I rushed home
without really looking
into the sea of tired and blank faces
also anxious to avoid connecting with mine.
In a hurry to leave again
I rushed out the door
seeking only the silver key to lock the gate
then the thick plastic rim of the key to unlock and start the car,
eyes and mind fixed on the next moment in time.
Not here.

Only now,
in the slowness of morn
as I peer out through the parted shutters
I realize that I missed it,
the miracle
or that had occurred
when I was sleeping
or rushing
or earning my living.
I missed the moment
when beauty was born
and I can’t get it back.

On Monday morn
I admired the pending peach blooms
still bound and furled
but burst through the tight green fists
that hid them from view.
only four days past,
their soft arms stretched out wide.
giving all their beauty.
offering all they have
to the sun,
to this day,
and to all those rushing past
with eyes gazing upward
in a heady world of oblivion
just like me.
offering so much that they can open no more
and their core already fading,
peach to apricot to lemon to white,
edges curling and wilting.
Soon death will come.
The ground will beckon
and they will fall
to return to the earth
and begin again.

I am envious of these flowers.
Of a life spent
in complete giving
asking nothing in return
and honoring the call
I wish I had been here
instead of there
to bear witness
to that moment
they first unleashed their love
upon the world
as I now bear witness to their life
and death.

Our garden's spring roses (iphone photo)

Our garden's spring roses

Monday, 15 October 2012

Dropping deeper into transition

Today, the silver skies are bruised and whispering of rain. The leafy limbs of the waratah trees are being tossed to and fro by that invisible force. As I walked along the street, my long brown tresses were picked up and whipped into a knotty frenzy above my head.

Change is in the air.

The wind that pushed against me is warm, heralding the approach of summer. Seemingly overnight, the white blossoms of the wild plum trees have been replaced by soft green baby leaves whilst the pending peach blooms of our garden's rose bushes have burst through the green fists that held them tight and hidden from view.

Finally, I release the breath I have held tight in my chest throughout winter in a long, relieving sigh.

But it is Monday again and so returns the elastic sadness that wraps firmly around my chest as I grieve the end of my slow days, knowing that the next three days will be replaced with frenetic kind of doing that is out of sync with my essential nature. I am the wild bird voluntarily returned to the cage to sing for her supper. There is joy and purpose in the song but it’s not quite as sweet as when it is sung freely sitting in a big old tree.

Throughout the month of October I am participating in soul work called Spirits of Joy, working through 30 days of prompts to explore my truth, beauty, connection, love, joy, dreams and ritual and to share with beautiful like-minded women from all over the world. It is a nourishing experience that is helping me to drop deeper into this time of transition. In the last week I have noticed my breath start moving freely and deeply through my body once more as my body relaxes and lets go into this moment.

Despite the sadness, the confusion and uncertainty that often overwhelms me as I slowly feel my way through this transition, I have a deep faith and a deep inner knowing that everything will work out perfectly in its own way and in its own time.

Here is an extract of a letter I wrote during the week….

Dear Magical Universe

Here are my heart-felt dreams that I share with you to sprinkle with fairy dust and magic so that they grow from these tiny feeling seeds into wild and magical faraway trees.

I have come to learn, dear Magical Universe, that you have been with me all along. Your gentle hands have guided me and urged me on when I have been stuck or fearful. And even when I have turned my back and tried to ignore you, you have never given up on me. You have called me forward, softly and continuously, urging me not to go back to a life that no longer fits. You have led me to the sweet whispers of my own heart, to this place where I have to listen and acknowledge the dormant dreams within.

Can these sacred dreams come true?

Sometimes I still doubt that I am worthy of such happiness and unconditional love. It scares me to confess and share these dreams with you. What if I’m still playing too small? What if they come true and it’s still not enough and I’m left asking if this is all there is?

Right now I feel you urging me to trust my heart and trust my dreams as I have trusted you. You have always been there for me throughout my loneliness, my grief and despair as you have always been there for me throughout my happiest, bliss-filled, love-filled highs. You have shown me throughout my life that things always turn out just fine…actually better than fine and often in a way that I could never have imagined.

And so dear Magical Universe, like the white wispy seeds of the dried dandelion flower, I lovingly blow you my dreams, and I follow with deep faith, my hand in your hand, along this uncharted path, trusting that wherever the dream seeds land they will bloom in the most beautiful and unexpected ways.

With love and gratitude

Bursting blooms, rose bushes in our front garden