And in he walked, guitar slung low by his side. Casually pulling up an old chair, he sat in the corner without introduction or occasion and began to play.  After an assault of practice strums, the pace picked up, his fingers picking and plucking furiously at the strings. Two hours earlier, she had wondered what had driven her to this ancient city where she had ten euros to her name and no Spanish language skills to speak of and yet as she watched him from the other side of the room, she inched her glass down slowly, barely hearing it touch the table. Her heart had stopped beating and she forced herself to breathe.

Perhaps the universe was rewarding her for her courage after all.


Manifesto for the Reborn

This is the day when I back myself

when I give back to myself
when I bestow the compassion that I have been
seeking from others
on my own wanting flesh and aching bones.

Today I take down my high fences and
replace them with boundaries and I
survey the terrain of this heart of mine
and see that it is good.

The day I fit my own mask before I fit
the mask of others around me.
the day I draw a line in the sand and say
this is who I am, and I am
wild and fierce but I am

This is the day that I will go out on a limb and
expect the universe to meet me half way,
acknowledging that what I put out is exactly what I get in return
and that if the devil turned up on my doorstep
it is because I summoned him there,
and that yes my addiction to self deprecation and atonement are
often the same thing
and that yes I may have followed him into
hell and done deals unholy,
but I walked back out again with my
head held high
and that carries both weight
and worth.

This is the day that I will pledge to write my way through
but not at the expense of my sanity and
whilst I will not contribute to the noise I will make a promise
to speak my truth, mindfully.

Today I bow before synchronicity and simplicity.
small moves and simpler words.

I surrender to possibility.
with the knowledge that our memories do not make us.
and that sometimes we cannot reconcile with the choices we’ve made,
but still I tear the pages out of my book, that are black and
heavy with ink and tearstains
and I offer unto myself my own redemption,
knowing that
I cannot save the devil,
but I can save

This is the day I raise a glass to all that has gone before
as I take my rightful place in a new world
and while the road may be long and fraught with danger,
every step I take is a choice.

I have a choice

and I am stronger than I give myself credit for.

I am alive
and my time starts



The Call Home

The most challenging dynamic that ever existed is hands down, the human romantic relationship. Wars have been waged, honour defended, rules bent and then broken, promises made and destroyed, tears and blood spilled passionately, sometimes silently over the question:

Who does my heart belong to?
Where do I call home?

For women such as myself – who find the concept of monogamy and settling down tempting but ultimately confounding – it can take all of the strength that we can muster to put on our armour and step outside and face a world rife with subconscious, silent criticism and projection when it comes to everything We Should or Should Not Do in a relationship.

So it might come as a surprise to you that the one that calls my wild heart home, is my best friend, my husband (my third), and the love of my life. I am nothing if not a walking contradiction.

Do you want to know the truth?