David Cauldwell

poetry

Symbiosis

Language of RainbowsDavid CauldwellComment
Symbiosis.jpg

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…

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

Dragon Dreamtime

Synaptic SeedsDavid CauldwellComment
Dragon Dreamtime.jpg

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.

The jagged Dragons Teeth cut an imposing skyline

The jagged Dragons Teeth cut an imposing skyline

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 a line in the comments below…

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

Ego-Ode-Ic

David CauldwellComment

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

Ego-Ode-ic.jpg

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 comment below and let’s chew the cud!

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