February 2006

the gush post…

by Leonie Dawson on February 22, 2006

speak with passion and others can
feel the power of your words.
stop making sense and
start making love.
sometimes i think speaking and dancing
were separated at birth
and are longing to find each other again.
~ ben lee

This week I have been blown over, again and again by Ben Lee.

First by his music – his latest album “Awake is the new Sleep” {cover above}.
Love soaked, aware, joyful music. Conscious. A collection of love songs to the universe.

Then by his words – through his blog.
Love soaked, aware, joyful words. His conscious journey.
His time in India with Amma. Falling in love with the world and with himself.

It is so beautiful to see someone outside of us doing this. Speaking this and living this.

Can I gush anymore?

“woke up this morning
i suddenly realized
were all in this together
i started smiling
cos you were smiling
and were all in this together
im made of atoms
youre made of atoms
and were all in this together
and long division
just doesnt matter
cos were all in this together”
~ All in this together, Ben Lee

other things i can gush over this week:
:: japanese fashion illustration:: thich nhat hanh’s “peace in every step”
:: india arie
:: sacred earth designs
:: posters from 1920s paris
:: wild earth art
:: watercolour paper
:: my gorgeous goddess sister sonya coming to stay for the weekend
:: nancy faulkner art
:: rainbows spilling on paper
:: josephine wall desktop wallpapers
:: the man i love and his blue sky eyes…

equinity and divinity

by Leonie Dawson on February 21, 2006


me and jeremiah, dec 05

the sound of a fiddle starts up…
and somewhere in the space between the music beginning and a song starting,
i get lost in the past. i find myself on the back of a horse, riding the dusty trails behind cattle on our farm near Bowen. i think i was 10.
the moments merge and fuse so closely together, it seems only a heart beat away that i was there. or maybe the two co-exist together now. that consciousness meets this consciousness.

i was a cowgirl when i was a kid. the smell of horses is still my favourite scent in the world. my little sister and i both have a peculiar obsession with the scent of our saddle shed – leather and oils; dust and years.
she and i would make up our own radio station as we rode along towards the cattle, singing songs, making announcements. SisterFM.

those were the days i remember in books:
the green wind
my story
famous five
i would stay up to the early hours of the morning reading obsessively.
the bookworm cowgirl.

i am a long way from home and the horses.
the books still remain, and somehow the dusty trails, the plod of cattle and the sway of horses has become embedded in me. the moments meld and interweave.
i am living the dream she dreamed of on that horse.
she is living the memory i dream of now.

“Spirituality is the sacred center out of which all life comes, including Mondays and Tuesdays and rainy Saturday afternoons in all their mundane and glorious detail… The spiritual journey is the soul’s life commingling with ordinary life.”

~ Christina Baldwin

love sonnet to you

by Leonie Dawson on February 20, 2006

it feels fragile there,
on a leaf,
waiting for your wings to dry.
it feels fragile being outside of the boxes of mind.
it feels fragile leaving the tightly woven cocoon.

i feel it too.

each of us taking courageous leaps of faith,
leaving behind the dark warmth of cocooning,
to find the light.

each of us on our little leaves,
buffeted by the wind,
concentrating so hard on:
hold on hold on hold on.
each of us feeling
alone and small
and a teensy bit broken.

i feel it too.

but what happens if we stop looking at our grasping feet?
what happens if the butterfly looks around?

it will see that its shaking leaf is attached to a twig.
that twig forms part of a tree.
and that tree – that whole damn tree is covered with leaves.
and on each trembling leaf is a butterfly.

imagine that.
a whole tree of butterflies around you.
all feeling a little bit courageous,
a little bit unsure,
and a little bit just like you.

just waiting to take flight.

a whole tree of butterflies.