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.

change, Connection, God, Inner child, Intuitive, life, love, Messages, musings, One, philosophy, relationships, Revolution, Source, Spirit


Do you know what I find really difficult is unlearning patterns that are looked upon as healthy but to me personally they just aren’t for me anymore.
Each to there own – this isn’t a criticism just something I’m personally feeling into after noticing these patterns shift from within my life.
I don’t see that Earth needs healing nor people.
Yet maybe our view on ourselves and Earth could be shifted from looking at things that need “fixing” to acceptance.
I sat with someone today who was feeling ill, I refrained from healing them or giving advice and just sat there, present, pretty much silent and as love – it was eye opening on how quick the recovery was as I wasn’t projecting my feelings and worry all over them too. (Not always easy, I know but I wasn’t trying to hide these either I had full faith in the lesson and greater plan).
I truly believe everyone is a healer, we are all able, God doesn’t have favourites.
It’s maybe how we look up on others and situations as problems, as oppose to seeing the gift and the lesson which is in the learning and unlearning of what comes before us.
It’s quite likely I’m being shown this in this post as there is no definitive wrong or right, all perspectives equally valid.
This is not intended to offend but I really wanted to reveal my personal discoveries.
So many people struggle to be seen, be heard and taught of their own capacity and ability to go within themselves.
They feel they are not enough, inadequate, missing something because they haven’t been shown or taught that they to have all within.
Nor taught to look to who/what their belief is God, universe, higher self, source within themselves without the need of control, rules and restrictions.
Do we need to control all on the outer by perceiving to help, does this mean we don’t trust and have faith that we’ll be provided for unless we do it for others or ourselves.
I understand this could equally be said for me writing this, I am aware of this and this isn’t an attempt to control or covert but most definitely to speak my truth from a place of love and open balanced awareness.
I don’t have all the answers, there is no perfect.
Have you ever chosen to actually not speak for a day, a few days, a week and listen and feel what goes on in your body….it speaks volumes.
Have you ever stepped back when people, animals are asking you for something and asked yourself am I doing this as a programmed response, a need to be kind, is this person or animal infront of me teaching me to say no or to become aware of my inner avoidance of needing to be busy so I don’t have to deal with what’s lurking underneath.
Could you redirect them into themselves or to God.
Do you ask what this is teaching you too.
Unconditional love is an all encompassing state off being and in this we see divine perfection – no need to intervene. I have experienced this, so I can say this is truth.
Maybe we could look deep within our being and ask, if there was nothing to heal, fix, accept or change, what exactly would we be doing, what would life be like, would you hold the same beliefs or any in fact.
Just something to ponder upon.
This is where I am at and it’s not easy, pretty or straightforward. As someone who has always done for others I’m really questioning why I’m doing things and how I can bring a healthy balance to giving and receiving as I most definitely feel the call to do so.

Reflections – Helen Rebecca Hart.

Art, change, Connection, God, life, Messages, musings, One, philosophy, Poetry, Revolution, Source, Spirit


Is there such a thing as presence.
If this now is now then.
Each moment hereafter.
Not now yet a then.
If I feel the now and then then.
Who is it that sees that one in that now.
They don’t feel that restriction and focus of now then now.
If one observes the observer.
MY mind awry.
Feeling beyond words.
Yet none feeling.
Is this real.
As the observer, observes, who observes yet again.
What writes this poem.
When the first is present now.

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



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.
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, ascension, change, Community, Connection, life, love, Messages, MOVEMENT, musings, philosophy, Poetry, relationships, Revolution, Source, spirituality, Trauma



Bound to break free of the patterns imposed on we.
From lives gone past.
Ancestral longings, locks last.
Bound to we.

I cannot carry the weight of these chains no more.
Denial isn’t an option.
Nor running and chasing.
No score.

Meet me face to face.
Dare you will.
Face our inner demons.
Consciously, still.

Meet me face to face.
Mirrors are loud.
In this space.
No masks allowed.
Discomfort turns red.
Hidden gets loud.

Take this into ourselves.
Feeling all that’s shroud.
Drop the guard.
Playing proud.

There is no war.
No power trips.
It’s for us to rise in our own ships.

Can you commit to healing all within.
Can you commit to yourself.
To break this bill.
Can you lay your weapons on the floor.
Let us pick up a rose.
For our very own hearts.
No need to impose.
Chainbreaking the goal.

I’m done with these energetic hidden games.
Peak out from the curtain.
No need for shame.
I’m not willing to be part of the hunger games.
I lay this to rest.
I will not remain.
In the hall of blame.

Burdened by binds of years gone past.
A fairy tale in duality.
A nightmare that lasts.
I need one not to make me whole.
This is not what I propose.
I care to break these binds.
For I, my self.

If you cannot rise.
Then drop your pull.

Beating heart.

Art + poetry – Helen Rebecca Hart.

Art, ascension, Connection, God, life, love, Messages, MOVEMENT, One, Poetry, relationships, Revolution, Source, Spirit



I sit here in silence.
Yet can there be silence.
As no sound.
Clothes against bare skin.
Soft, smooth, held free.
Air breathes along the palm of my mind.
Clear, cleanse, crystals, close.
Mother earth pulsating.
Brown sound upon the wings of our hearts.
Our feet melt, merge into her skin.
Father Sky drops blue, pink in an ocean of freeze.
Golden light abreast the sun.
Glitters upon ones knees.
Water washes through.
A trickle in the glass of time.
Fire rides sensualy through our being.
Blue power, strength o mine.
Spirits of the trees.
Insects are the keys.
Ancestors standing strong.
Never alone.
Nothing nor no-one to long.
Old stories die hard.
Source sings our souls song.

Written by Helen Rebecca Hart.

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


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.
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.