Below is a poem, titled Freedom, by Simon Fletcher. It touched a spot for a Jade reader, and for me too.

Freedom

I stroll up to the branching waterfall;
work done, I need fresh air and to be free.

It takes so long to find one’s second self,
it seems, and there you are, a friend and free

of negatives, who tops me up on tap.
Your love’s an ancient waterfall, a free

resource of life that brings me to my senses,
always there, flows from the hills, the free

and purple-hearted mountains, deep in clouds,
where ponies, wilder creatures wander free.

I tumble in your love and, smiling, know
you’ve given me permission to be free.
Simon Fletcher

Yes, it does seem on a certain level that the deepest part of ourselves, when ‘touched’, feels other. So unlike myself, one may think. Another case of attempting to refrain from slapping labels onto experience.

Update:
This morning the sun is shining, pain levels are less and that’s a good thing. Thanks to all who have wished me well this past (two) months. Help has come my way in many forms – and I’m so grateful. Tomorrow is, however, another day….

A horse in a field. The hedges and fences are high, the gate is closed. The wind gets up, her tail plumes, she starts to gallop about. This way and that. Excited, disturbed, turbulent. Confined. All sense of herself caught up in the moment. All sense of her surroundings. Lost sight of. Round and round, tossing and turning, hooves trample. The unnoticed grass beneath her toes.

Been there, ever? Wanted a way out? Tried jumping the ‘fence’? Push through the hedge? Into the next ‘field’, and the next?

Now, the wind drops. Slowly she, gradually, returning to herself. And that which sustains. Munch, munch. Until the next time!

Been there? Ever? Repeatedly? YES! And in children’s stories, I so loved, the horse jumps the gate and gallops about. Free to adventure, meeting challenges and dangers.

And for us? We adults? When the ‘winds’ diminish. Yes, the grass. The air stills. Back to ourselves. Honestly

What does she decide?
To jump?
To push on confinement?
Wait until circumstances
opens the gate?
Eat grass?

All of the above!

NB: You might be interest to listen to this Dharma Talk by Rev. Roland ‘Giving up Everything’.

In my experience, giving up and letting go involves ‘All of the Above’. ‘Letting go’ isn’t in the least bit what we imagine it to be. Thank goodness for the ‘grass’. Thank goodness for that which ‘holds’ us.

This post is for all who put pen to paper to unfurl their minds in the service of illuminating darkness. A worthy and meritorious offering.
The Blog, Dew on The Grass writers have been thinking about Freedom these past days. Here is a poem that appears in a post published today:

Freedom is the unfurling of the hand of self,
finger by grasping finger

Feathers unfold, flutter, fly
Release into the stillness of an ocean sky

A vastness deep
Ripple upon ripple dissipates into the blue-black,
lit by an eternity of stars and moon

The warmth of coolness
The illumination of the night

By Karen Richards

Read the whole post here.

I believe this to be the first post on Dew on The Grass. Timely I’d say, to take another look.

winter sunset
sprayed amongst clouds —
the sound of wind through dry grass

Anonymous contribution (many thanks)

A little lightness and brightness amidst the storms. Merit to all who suffer, one way and another.

Evening in Scotland in December and in Northumberland taken by Mugo, Friday.