Simurgh

Simurgh

A creature old as time itself,

Sits behind my shoulder;

Multi-coloured with glaring eyes,

Remains as I get older.

Mysterious beast with seven tails,

Flowing feathers downward trails:

Not a bird nor dragon,

Nor borne of Mother Earth;

Heavenly host of magical myth

Not from the flames, your birth.

You symbolise the unity

Of Heaven, and of Earth:

Personify integrity, not

From a place of mirth.

You fly on wings in timeless space,

Hold your head, heart strong grace,

Proud as a peacock, eyes that see

Part of the Universe, part of me.

Strength of Leo, Griffin like grip,

Guardian Angel, on my trip.

A healer, physician of

All that plagues mankind:

I searched so long,

My skin for you to bind.

An artist took a needle,

Drew deep into my back

Cut the skin, her canvas,

Coloured inks plus black.

And there you have it,

My tattoo, my Simurgh

My creature,

My permanent feature.

© Liola Lee 2007

I had the tattoo done towards the end of the last century. So, it is pretty old now. It was my first tattoo. I spent years searching for the right tattoo, then I found it. A Simurgh which symbolises the union between Heaven and Earth and is as old as Time itself. This was my first but not my last tattoo. The image is not great and to be honest the tattoo of my Simurgh could do with brightening up BUT as it symbolises being as old as time itself I am comfortable with it’s faded edges and outlines. I accept it as it is! It is what is it is, and that is just fine! The poem was written when I was on a poetry site named Poetbay some years ago. The Tattoo was created around 1999/2000. 

Blessed be!

Liola

© Liola Lee 2007

 

 

 

 

Wellies, Weebles and Wobbles

While working at wheeling my barrow into the field my foot became well and truly stuck in the mud. It felt as though my foot was sinking, and sinking fast. It was a horrible feeling as I felt almost as though I had no control, and would surely fall flat on my backside at any moment, which may have been preferable to falling down flat on my face or maybe not?  The more I tried to lift my foot with wellie boot intact, the more I felt, I was being sucked into the sludge in squelching splendour. I am pleased to report that I managed to keep my balance, my boot stayed on and I did not wobble like a weeble and fall down. (‘Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down’; Weebles were little egg shaped toy people that could be bought when my eldest son was just a little boy. A popular toy at the time). Actually, I did wobble a bit but quickly found my centre and stayed upright. However, falling down was a distinct possibility!

We all fall down at times. Sometimes we fall suddenly and unexpectedly, and at other times we see it coming and for some reason that we cannot fathom, we just cannot stop ourselves, no matter how hard we try, and down we go.

But here is the thing! We can fall, and stay stuck in the mud as it were OR we can get ourselves back up after a fall,  and work out why we fell in the first place. Perhaps we were not looking where we were going. Perhaps it was external factors at play that we had not prepared for. Perhaps it was trying too hard not to fall down as in what we resist persists. Sometimes when we try really hard not to do something, we end up doing it anyway. Why is that, I wonder? So what can we do, if we are to avoid falling down and getting stuck in the mud?

Well, I did not have to go into the field yesterday if the truth is to be told. I could see that Storm Dennis had turned the field into a quagmire of brown squidgy silt of sorts. No, I did not have to venture forth but venture forth I did, and why did I do that? To quell my OCD about keeping my field poo free. Yes, I did say ‘poo’ but I am talking here of horse droppings. Keeping the field clear from horse droppings reduces the worm burden in the field. Some people are obsessive over ‘poo picking’ (myself here included), and others are not. The bottom line is that I could have waited a day or two but chose not to wait. So, getting stuck in the mud, and having a NFE (Near Fall Experience) was of my own making but I did not fall down and get stuck in the mud, though I most certainly could have. I regained my balance and my composure, and came unstuck and stayed standing. The ‘poo’ was picked up as it were, and promptly without any pomp and circumstance, disposed off on the muck heap back on the yard. A job well done!

The moral of this story is that sometimes we can find ourselves stuck in the mud. Sometimes we fall, only to get ourselves back up, and move on. Sometimes we manage to stay upright after a few wobbles and keep our wellies on!

Blessed be!

Liola

© Liola Lee 2020