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BURLESQUE

In the death I will seek thee Through the cavernous tickle of your root system Ushering me off to my next post Will I be held sentinel once more? I hope to dance So in death the cabaret begins With silver limbs I’ll carousel ingl the afterlife Long after the last leaf lost The snow shall fall to celebrate this life in death And then In one sun-drenched moment To the tune of an alpine parrot And a cockatoo ripping off bark We’ll unite in death  And our branches will touch once again

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The Inspiration

It didn’t matter that it was winter, that the temperature during the day wasn’t going to get above freezing. It didn’t matter either that I’d never been hiking in serious snow before, let alone in snow shoes. 

What awaited on that alpine plateau in Victoria (in Australia’s high country) was a cabaret of dancing snowgums. Alive, these trees have red, yellow, green and grey trunks. The colour is accentuated in snowfall; moisture seems to saturate the hues. What really took my breath away is when I reached a section of dead snowgums. They were so vibrant in death, their silver branches reaching out towards each other as if desperately trying to reconnect. All of the branches in this forest were turned in towards each other. It was like one massive party except all of the attendees were dead. 

I sat in this forest for a while and got a sense of the spirits in these trees, still so present even though they were in various states of decay. Thank you to the snowgums for reminding me that life doesn’t stop after death. 

What experiences have you had to reaffirm that it’s not necessarily lights out after death? Drop me a note (preferably before you drop dead)...

This print is available from www.davidcauldwell.com and comes with the poem.

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EGO-ODE-IC

When we talk about crushing the ego Smashing it to pieces We talk about crushing a part of ourselves The weeping child in isolation Ignored for so long That the only way it can get attention Is to scream so loudly So abhorrently at times Until veins throb In the hope we’ll listen In the hope we’ll take it to our chests And embrace that which was never soothed Listen not to what the ego critic says Instead see the child tremor behind the spite As hurt as you by venomous vitriol In its desperation to be heard Dissolve the ego Dissolve a magical place within That child with a full throttle imagination A magician capable of creating worlds of wonder You are the energetic guardian of yourself Every step in this life a journey towards that So stand up  Be kind to the part that bullies you into thinking you are less than God For that bully is here to show you Unflinching compassion in the face of hostility And the Divine nature Of everything that lies beneath

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The Inspiration

The poor, young ego. It gets such a bad rap when all it probably needs is a damn good hug.

I think so much of the confusion we feel about ourselves is because we don’t properly understand the role the ego can play for us, and how to connect healthily with it. For me, my ego has put me into closer contact with the positive, magical aspect of my childlike self. And I believe that the ego can enable us to form a healthier relationship with our inner children. It can switch us on to the magick of imaginations seemingly stifled by adulthood. One hug at a time. 

What do you feel your ego can teach you? Is it enabling a stronger sense of connection to your childlike self? Flick me a note below and let’s chew the cud!

Prints available from www.davidcauldwell.com. Each one comes with its own unique poem.

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DRAGON DREAMTIME

Every footstep taken A line written in your personal Mythology A rite of passage   Through No-Time Chronology dissolves during wilderness wanderings Internal and external The order of memories unimportant When awakening in the realm of the dragon Of magick When Dreamtime merges With all you ever thought was real Then you are truly awake

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The Inspiration:

Eleven days in the wilderness does wonders… …for your sense of clarity and direction …for your ability to tune into the true vibration of your being and practise living and interacting from that place …for a poet’s flowery sensibilities The dreaming in New Zealand’s south island is strong, particularly near the Dragons Teeth - a prominent rock formation in Kahurangi National Park. After hitting music festival Luminate for a week, I went straight into an 11-day solo hike. This didn’t seem like such a good idea on the first day when my lack of sleep and dancing endeavours seemed to be catching up. Not great when you’ve got to navigate.

A third of the walk was bush bashing, abjectly at times through undergrowth so thick that the leaves molested my face. Branches poked, scratched and bruised from all angles. And over the 11 days a pattern emerged: Lose “path” (actually non-existent at times, demarcated by rock stacks); scout aimlessly; get impatient; set compass point; bush bash; get totally lost; give up on finding a path, and then find the path.

The journey was a test of trust, of believing I was strong enough to hike through both internal and external terrain. Most of all, it was about being kind to myself whenever I lost the way.

I scrambled out of the dragon’s mouth. I followed animal trails. Head-high tussock plains engulfed me. I lost my legs down sporadic, soggy holes. I listened to the distant echo of bird calls ricocheting off nocturnal valley walls.  

I weaved through the saddle of the Needle’s Eye and stumbled past the Drunken Sailors. I bathed in Lonely Lake and felt part of everything. I wild-camped on ridge tops beneath moon and stars. I watched morning mist hover over Boulder Lake. Branches drew blood. One whipped my mouth during an uncontrolled slide down a mossy waterfall. I ended up in places few people would have ever contemplated their existence while frantically chewing dried mangoes.

It was eight days before I saw people, two men aged 71 and 68. Their buoyancy and vigour was inspiring. I hope I’m that fit when I’m their age.

What kind of wilderness experiences have you had, and how have they inspired you? Drop me a note…  

Prints available from www.davidcauldwell.com. Each one comes with its own unique poem.

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SYMBIOSIS

Silence, for this is a connection not easily heard Yellow flowers sway in sultry zephyrs Merging, pirouetting pollen throughout the forest Blissfully moved by a force born of surrender I do hereby give myself to this wind Origin unknown, but trusting its thermal thread Spiraling in geometric swirls Indigo corridors to the land where soul tribes roam Sacred caravans devoted to the turning wheel of alignment

The Inspiration:

How many of us stop to ponder the movement of clouds above city skyscrapers? How many of us take time out of busy schedules to go and sit in the forest and watch all of the interactions bustling in Nature?

I lived in a forest for two years, surrounded by nothing but trees on all sides. I had the great joy of eating meals on my balcony, of observing the way the black cockatoos come into the forest a couple of days before of rain. I watched echidnas rummage in the rock wall I built, foraging for ants. I saw glow in the dark blue mushrooms at night. And I realised how everything is interconnected. And how humans are an important link in that process, even though we seem intent on excluding ourselves from a relationship of cooperation, preferring, instead, one of control.

If we don’t listen, then how can Nature divulge its secrets?

What secrets have you divined from Nature? Share any magical sit spots or tales of Nature connection in the comments below…

Prints available from www.davidcauldwell.com. Each one comes with its own unique poem.

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KUWANI, QUEEN OF THE NILE

Down the corridor of her eyes Deepest recognition Remembrance stirring  How my body has yearned for hers For many moons it has dreamed Of fluttering away in the frolic of her eyelashes Of being held still in her embrace Unlocking everything with a single smile Priestess, siren, confidante, lover Your iridescent sovereignty hums deep within my cells Your spell paves corridor complex No choice but to follow this intricate design Your eyes, Kuwani, the perfect mosaic Sun sizzling brightly brimming over Nile banks Across time lines Priestess of pearls weaves ways Ties ribbons around the waist of the world

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The Inspiration:

A love affair across the ages.

The girl on the train. The boy working in a café. Strangers, yet the body recognises them. From somewhere.

This poem/piece came after a Temazcal, or traditional sweat lodge. Just before entering the darkness of the lodge, my eyes locked with a beautiful girl’s. And it was literally like walking down a corridor back into Egypt. I haven’t seen her since, and perhaps whatever connection I felt doesn’t need to explored in this lifetime, but I’m not so secretly hoping that our paths cross again, and that maybe I’ll get to sail down the Nile in the eyes of an ancient Priestess.

For you, Kuwani, and for anybody else who has ever been beguiled by a fleeting encounter that leaves a lasting impression. Share you stories by leaving me a note...

DC X

Prints available from www.davidcauldwell.com

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IMPLOSION

And I became a planet Magnetic belt cummerbund fast around my girth I watched thoughts nasty and nirvana-like travel towards it Held by geometric stasis Turned around The love I yearn to give to others Put it into myself The love I yearn to give to others Turned around Held by geometric stasis I watched as thoughts nasty and nirvana-like travelled towards it Magnetic belt cummerbund fast around my girth And I became a planet Dream big… How many of us are stunted by the opinions of others, paralysed by peer review, or have social constraints that make us believe we’re smaller than we are? We are the size of planets! Well, when tuned into the vastness of what’s inside we are. Walk past a mirror and sneak a quick look from a different angle. Don’t be surprised if you catch a glimpse of cosmic rings around your midriff, or a moon or two orbiting around your head.

The idea behind implosion is to not explode our energy out into the world. That is, not to project our crap onto others. To take responsibility for what’s ours and put the love we want to receive from this world back into ourselves, so we can then share it with others, as opposed to needing something from somebody. This just creates yucky interactions of disempowerment. So dream big. Think yourself a planet. How do you orbit? What’s your place in the solar system? And how does your gravitational field affect those around you?

Let me know by dropping me a note...

DC X

Prints available at www.davidcauldwell.com