ascension, change, Children, Christ, Connection, God, Inner child, life, love, Messages, musings, One, poet, presence, purpose, relationships, Spirit, Trauma


When your heart is yearning.
Pour yourself into yourself.
It yearns for you.
It longs for you.
It calls to be heard.
To be held.
To be here.
Not there.
Love is not found in another,
Nor is happiness.
For you are love.
Crack open and let it flow.
If you hand the key to your heart
To the one.
Let that one be you.
Nobody else deserves the honour.
Of all of you.
There’s no need to give yourself away.
It’s a painful existence.
An open wound.
A melded plaster.
A painful seperation.
When you long and yearn.
Pour yourself into yourself.
No other can fill you.
To be filled.
Call for source, the divine, God, Christ.
Whoever you choose.
That spark you see in another.
That light you feel you need.
Is source.
Fill yourself up.
Please don’t give your heart away.
Most definitely not to me.
I am not the one.
I’m unsure if there is another at this point in time.
Outside of me.
Time will tell.
What I do know from life is.
When yearning, when not filled.
I/she/he could never meet your expectations.
They’re not what you’ve imagined.
Don’t give yourself away.
At least not to me.
When they said no it meant no.
Stop trying.
Save yourself the heartache.
I’ve been there too.
Yearning for someone who isn’t interested.
A painful existence.
Wondering why.
Trying, forever trying.
Save yourself for yourself.
Fall into the arms of the beloved, source.
Pour yourself into yourself.
Your heart yearns for you.
To give up the fight.
To come back home.
Held always forever held.

Written by Helen Rebecca Hart.

Art, ascension, change, Children, Connection, God, Inner child, Intuitive, life, love, Messages, musings, One, parenting, philosophy, presence, purpose, relationships, Revolution, Source, Spirit



If someone is always viewed as a beast they will always be a beast and dictate your life from the shadows.
When did a child turn into a narcissist or co-dependant….when did the child turn into the swinging pendulum of it’s polarised parents, grandparents, ancestors, society.
I’ve found Narcissism is always fed by the beastly status.
When you allow yourself to see under that hard exterior, shell, there lays fear, pain, suffering.
A petrified child fearful of showing their pain to the world that’s why they play games, psychoanalyse, hide, find your weak point to hide, to hide so you cannot see their messy humaness and raw naked, sensitive vulnerability.
When you refuse to feed the game, they have no prize to focus upon.
I’ve seen this from observing pained children who have grown into numbed, apathetic adults.
I saw a beast of an ex partner turn into stone yet show a glimmer of humaness if only for a second.
Imagine if you shed the layers of illusion, if you can hate so much, imagine how much love you can experience.
The beast within us all dies and the charge, pain and judgement within dies when we accept ourselves, our expansiveness, capabilities, limitations.
I’m not interested in fixing anyone, taking on projections or playing games.
I’m not interested in being right, this most likely will not be a popular post.
I’m not advocating anything here.
However I do not see beasts.
I see contrast.
I see more opportunities to unite with myself as the world on the deepest levels.
I feel my own validation.
Love me or hate me.
It’s yours to hold.
Labels separate.
Love just is.

Written by Helen Rebecca Hart.

Art, ascension, change, Children, Community, Connection, God, Inner child, Intuitive, life, love, Messages, musings, One, philosophy, poet, Poetry, presence, relationships, Revolution, Source, Trauma



I write this from my heart.
A heart that’s been punished by self and others.
No war ever won.
A mind that’s been ravaged by “trying” to get out of the victim mindset.
Looped in a pattern of trying to get out of the victim mindset.
Roar into an oppressor.
To hide behind the walls.
Flip, flop, round, round.
A body that’s been worn down, torn, separated and belittled by others and I,
pushing the get out of the victim mindset pill.
Is there something fundamentally wrong.
Is it just me.
No it isn’t.
It’s quite likely anyone and no-one stuck in duality, polarity.
Hidden wounds, hidden life behind the curtain.
In one form or another.
A pill with a very bitter coating that poisons the spirit within.
A pill pushed as it’s an ulterior motive of the hidden one within that may not accept it’s own inner victim and prefers the deceitful power a mask of the oppressor.
I have contained both.
I’m no saint, saviour or demon.
At times they can come and say Hello when triggered.
“Hello” remember me.
“Not again.”
“Ooh let’s play.”
Neither better nor worse.
Both generally circulating around the core sacral wounding, falling into a pit of despair.
Seeking, seeking always seeking.
It may be temporarily satisfied by false sense of achievement called competition and winning at life.
It may be temporarily satisfied by hiding out, escaping from the noise.
It may be temporarily satisfied and filled with food, pity, hiding, superiority, alcohol, drugs, plant medicines, relationship, lack of relationships – anything basically.
Never satisfied – insatiable.
Don’t try anything.
In fact try nothing.
Don’t even try that.
Those voices inside.
Those tired, weeping wounds.
Orange, red and black.
Open raw.
Allow them to bleed.
Pour them love.
Welcome them to your safe home.
In time, they’ll return.
As one hand in hand.
Yin to the yang.
Yang to the yin.
Knowing it couldn’t have been any other way.
Always whole and empty.
For not though.
Do no thing.
Don’t even do that.
Find the space inbetween.
Yet don’t look.
Always breathing.
How is that?

Art + Musings – by Helen Rebecca Hart.

Art, ascension, change, Connection, God, Inner child, Intuitive, life, love, lyrics, Messages, MOVEMENT, musings, One, philosophy, poet, Poetry, presence, purpose, Revolution, Source


I welcome into my life all that was aligned and pushed away.
I welcome into my life trust.
Trust to allow the walls to shatter into a million pieces of foam.
Foam to form.
Foam to fade.
I allow steps inward.
Closer, closer.
No need to run.
No need to chase.
Allow the discomfort.
No games.
Allowing the illusions to move through my being.
Wash away the mess.
White mist.
Pure form.
No dust.

Art, Connection, fun, Inner child, Intuitive, life, light language, love, lyrics, Messages, musings, Mystic, philosophy, poet, Poetry, relationships, Source, Spirit


Neon- orange.
The chills.
Joy sublime.
Creativity opens.
Sensuality high.
Breathe in the colour.
Movement ignites.
As the fire within.
Peaks sexual highs.
Shivers my spine.
No timber in sight.
Nor pirate.
Yet Parrots speak.
No eyes.
Velvet within.
True inner bliss.
No sin.

Written by Helen Rebecca Hart