Art, ascension, change, Children, Christ, Community, Connection, Death, God, Intuitive, life, love, Messages, musings, presence, purpose, Source

NEW WAYS CAN’T OFFER OLD REWARDS.

NEW WAYS CAN’T OFFER OLD REWARDS.

I’d like to offer a message of hope.
A message of hope to those that seem to live in a way where their work, truth, self, existance, needs, being is seemingly unnoticed.
Maybe you feel unseen, unheard.
Maybe you’ve stood back to allow.
Moved forth to take action.
Tried to co-create.
Followed your truth.
Changed patterns.
Created new beliefs.
Created new waves and ways.
Still no great success, healthy partner, abundant cash flow etc…
I’d like to offer a message of hope to let you know and please only take what resonates.
That one person or selection of people that truly hear/heard your words are far more powerful than a million followers.
Success is in the alignment to all you are.
Success is the ability to live your truth.
Success is living and breathing your true life which I believe is destiny and path.
We were never meant to compete and compare.
Each person’s life individual to them and their lessons.
Maybe you imprisoned yourself in your creations at some point.
The way out can be slow.
If so true liberation awaits.
You aren’t your creations nor the work you do.
They aren’t the labels adorned either.
We are the all.
All of life.
All of love.
Fullness.
Wholeness.
Emptiness.
Dark.
Light.
All inbetween.
You are your validation.
You are your success.
You are the recognition.
Look at what have achieved for yourself.
Within yourself.
Within your family.
Ancestral lines.
You may not see the ripple effect of that which you’ve brought to life just yet.
One day you may.
One day you may not.
Know this though.
All is connected.
Working together apart – apart together.
You were and are enough with the first beat and every beat of your heart.
You are just as much enough when the last beat ends.
Your first breath – life.
Your last breath – a new life.
No additions needed.
For anyone.
For everyone.
For all.
We are all.
In breath.
In living.
In connection.
In a vastness one could never mentally comprehend.
You are enough.
By the time you read that I hope your felt that within yourself already.
With love, I hope this message finds you well.

Written by Helen Rebecca Hart.

Art, ascension, change, Community, Connection, Death, God, life, love, Messages, MOVEMENT, musings, Poetry, rebirth, relationships, Revolution, Source, Spirit, Trauma

THE GATHERING.

THE GATHERING.

We gather to unite.
We gather to call.
The flame to the fire.
The wild through all.
To love.
To rise.
Slumber from sleepy eyes.
A flash of light.
Thunder.
To heighten.
Numbed thighs.
Surge penetrating through feet to crown.
Purge demonstrating release throughout.
Hold yourself dear one.
You are not alone.
The golden.
The christed.
The rainbow.
Your home.

Poetry + Art – Helen Rebecca Hart.

Art, change, Community, Connection, Death, God, life, love, lyrics, Messages, Poetry

BUTTERFLIES.

BUTTERFLIES.

Life so tender, shaky.
Feels hot when it rains with snow.
Life is so fragile.
In each moment we never know.
What comes next.
If it shall.
Any where.
Any way.
Brow to born.
Born to lay.
Or even if this.
Our dying day.
Each breath of life.
A tender hand.
A glimpse of love.
God’s golden hand.
The eye of fate.
A church bell rings.
A skipping rope.
A child that sings.
This shaky ground.
We rest upon.
Butterfly wings.
An angels song.

Poem – Helen Rebecca Hart.

Art, change, Community, Connection, Death, life, love, lyrics, Messages, musings, Poetry, rebirth, relationships, Source, Spirit, spirituality, Trauma

FEATHERS.

There’s this point in time where you realise you’re the one who’s betrayed you the most.
Denying yourself of your true self.
Fitting into an old scene.
Dying in each day.
Holding on to old pains, hurts, lovers, ways.
Not seeing you as you truly are.
A vision that cannot be seen with words.
There’s this deep conflict.
This anger, terror, rage, foaming, forming.
Rotting inside.
It’s not there to hurt you nor another.
It speaks in the silence.
It has the answers of self betrayal.
Denied pain, denied joy, denied tears.
In a world where we’ve all been a victim and perpetrator.
We choose to see ourselves as one or the other.
Like there is a good and bad.
At the deep core of both is fear and betrayal.
Fragile, rotting, shaking, bed wetting, fear.
Self rejecting, abandoning betrayal.
What does your heart desire.
If you move through this fear you find life.
Fragile, shaking, breathing, fresh crisp air filled life.
Breathing bounty into your being.
Who are we.
Who are we not is the question.
Everything yet nothing.
Nothing yet everything.
See to flow with life as breath.
You have to loosen the grip.
Allow yourself to be all.
Experience all.
Like a baby.
Allowing each breath to pass through.
Without needing to know there is a breath.
What it looks like or what it truly means.
Just allowing the rise, the fall.
The black and white and colour as all.
To truly live is to accept all of you, of all.
In that there’s no acceptance visible.
It ceases to exist.

Art + musings – Helen Rebecca Hart.

Art, ascension, change, Death, life, Messages, musings, Poetry, rebirth, Revolution, spirituality

VERSUS.

When change is upon the breast of the mantle.
When the change is so fierce.
New, bold, unknown, inhibited space.
There is no answer available.
A hot liquid honey pouring upon the body of self.
A numb body that won’t allow recognition.
A miracle right there before your eyes.
A wall that lives between the miracle and the eye.
A new layer of authenticity peaking through the blinds.
Swayed back and forth.
Extremes.
Be nice, smile, think of others, bypass your desires.
Roar, anger, wilderness, darkness, a mighty presence.
No more.
Good boy versus cave man.
A war within ones pores.
Thrust, throw, pull, dissect.
It’s ok they didn’t mean to hurt us.
Rip, tear, roar, thrust.
There’s no space left for masks.
Only one will remain.
In truth.
We wonder what truth looks like.
Yet throw it away.
Judging the other.
I’ll never be like that.
So easy to run, hide, reject.
Face to face.
There’s no room for clones.

Art + musings – Helen Rebecca Hart.