love, Messages, One, parenting, poet, Poetry, presence, purpose



True love.
It is delicate yet very present in it’s presence.
It cannot be owned, possessed or taken.
It is full, filled and fully felt.
Without sex in sight.
It is not an object of beauty.
It is not brought on by the eye.
Love just is.
Love is an ever floating pink mist that cradles you without taking you.
Love is a heart opening full flowing force.
Minus force.
It holds no control.
Nobody owns love.
It has no status.
It is not dependant upon sexual desire.
That’s lust.
Many man have confused lust for love.
Love isn’t an erecting force.
It is soft, delicate yet is full bodied in it’s taste.
Love doesn’t speak with a tongue.
It has no need to be told.
For if you are telling of love.
It’s not that.
Love just is.
A baby an image of love.
An embodiment of love.
Not an object but pure life.
A Mother or Fathers love does not bind nor attach.
It guides, it allows, it accepts.
It’s felt with no hands steering a wheel in sight.
It’s not an adornment but an embodiment.
A pink mist from the inner core.
It envelops the one.
It’s in it’s words, breath, touch.
All without a plan.
It touches all of those around who feel.
It brags not of what it has done.
An inner outer blanket.
A warm supportive hand.
A vision, no eye.
It isn’t blinding.
That which binds.
That again not love.
Love doesn’t ask for a thing nor does it give with intention.
It isn’t taken or given in greed or lack.
It does not come with a photo or image.
Yet desire does.
Again not love.
Love a state of presence.
You’ll feel it when you know.
It cannot be held in permanence.
A force of vibration.
A pink caressing mist that softly holds.
Yet fully flows.
Love a heart filled presence.
No words truly explain.
True loves vibration.
No claimant in sight.

Written by Helen Rebecca Hart.

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, Christ, Community, Connection, life, love, Messages, One, philosophy, poet, presence, purpose, Source



One hears of transcending the body or mind.
You are not this.
We are not this.
Yet you are not that.
Transcendance I found, isn’t a doing.
There’s no need to even speak of it.
It cannot be understood logically.
Nor taught.
In this I wonder why I am typing this out.
Yet I desire to bring you truth.
It is not an achievement, a goal, a focus.
Nor a non acceptance/denial of the body or mind.
Nor a dissociation.
In my experience – all that I can reflect upon.
It’s a total acceptance and embodiment of all we are, in our entirety.
No accolade received from this.
Then somehow all dissolves into one.
Not even that.
Here, present, aware.
It isn’t something that comes and goes.
It holds no separation.
It doesn’t hold.
I see, feel, be no seperation from my body to yours by way of energy.
This doesn’t make me wise.
The body just is.
It’s beyond explanation.

The closest way I can explain is and even in this I spoil it’s truth, simplicity – beyond words;

I am a blanket as is everything in existence.
You a thread as I, as is a tree yet I don’t see thread, feel thread just waves are present.
As frequencies rise and fall the blanket flows, curves, rising, falling, flowing the blanket is there yet it isn’t.
This wasn’t something sought.
This doesn’t make me special.
Absolutely no sepation not even oneness.
It just happened.
As does the mind.
Never wasn’t.
Just thought it was.
As an instrument.
God breathes through our temples.
Even God ceases to be identifiable.
No feeling of I or you, even we.
There this blanket that spans all that is.
Even the blanket is non exsistant.
Nor is there non existence.
Nor nothing.
Nor nothingness.
Nor nor.
This to me is transcendence.

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, change, fun, Intuitive, life, love, Messages, musings, Mystic, One, poet, Poetry, presence, purpose, rebirth, relationships, Source, Spirit



Never a fan of fairy tales must you know.
Something seemed odd.
Rather a no, no.
Knight came on his horse.
White, shiny armour intact.
She said, “Why wear the armour.”
Is your heart bruised and bashed.
I was told it was needed to rescue you dear.
She said, I don’t need rescuing, listen here.
My motive is love.
It is eye and ewe.
The horse a mystery.
Donkey once knew.
They all looked and laughed.
Walking separately.
Liberation at last.
Never was a prison.
Seasons and weathers.
We all have hearts.
One heart.
Well I never.

Written by Helen Rebecca Hart.