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your natural soul - by claire dubois

Whether or not you know that you are beautiful, 

the flowers gaze at you whenever you walk by. 

When your heart feels like stone and you've lost sight of the gifts being given, 

you are still held by the earth beneath you and kissed by the breath of the trees. 

When you've convinced yourself that you're hopeless and that you simply can't fulfill the role that you were born here to play, 

the sky is still whispering your name and the stars are waiting for their chance to sing to you. 

You are wanted here. 

You are part of this creation.

Let your hurts melt away in the waves. 

Let your cries be carried by the birds. 

Earth, air, fire and water are the truth of you 

and when you drop the veil and open to the greater You, 

you will find your fullness in the valleys and the groves 

and bow again to the sacred altar of your natural soul. 

wild geese - mary oliver


You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.


the song of wandering aengus - william butler yeats


I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lads and hilly lands.
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

Reconnect, Recover, Restore, Revitalise: Rewild your soul.

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