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My Life and Poetry

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Preface: I am not sure if I need to explain or justify my style of poetry. Once a critic asked me if I was offended by him labeling my poetry as 'accessible. ' I laughed and loved it. I write to be heard. If I stumble upon some clever literary technique I can almost guarantee it was by chance. I tend to write from the heart, not the head.

I am currently enrolled in a three-year diploma in Spiritual Science, and during class on a Friday evening we were doing an exercise that didn't particularly resonate with me. However, the 'good little school girl' inside of me likes to always follow the directions and not cause a scene. I also tend to force myself to endure class no matter what is going on and tell myself that being on the path of enlightenment I need to buckle down and find value in whatever is presented to me. You know, 'find the good' etc...

Anyway, in this case, it felt like there was something inside of me screaming to get out of there. I did my best to ignore it, and at the same time scaring the wits out of myself by imagining that the whole room would stop and stare at me if I were to get up. After a few seconds of this, a sense of adventure came over me...and I thought to myself, "I wonder what would really happen if I did get up, would the world really end?" So I did. I stood up as quietly as I could and zipped out of the room. I was hot yes, and felt like eyes were boaring into me, but in reality I don't think anybody really noticed.

I went outside and took some deep breaths of air, and to calm myself I sat down to write. Poetry is my failsafe technique for balancing the extremes of emotion no matter what they are, and I wrote this poem.

Voice of your heart
by Tamsin Rothschild

It is in the minutia and the microcosm

Where the state of sublime resides

Fine tuning to the pulse of freedom

Following that invisible voice

No matter what.

It says:

'Get up and go...'

And you say:

'How come?'

And it says: 'Don't ask me that,

Just go.'

And your hesitant heart flutters, not wanting to upheave.

And you falter.

And then you go.

And that soft wisp of the angel breath

Becomes a distinct voice, strong and clear.

And then there is no hesitation.

You know and you follow.

And your heart leads.

And you are beholden to no one.

But the steady voice of your heart.

This experience, culminating in the gift of this poem, was for me a testament to the value of following my heart.

Many of the poems that I have written later become little jewels of support and encouragement. They are with me and in specific situations or circumstances I find a few lines surfacing in my consciousness, almost as a reminder of the past experience from which they were inspired. In this case, when I have really needed to mobilize myself in times of challenge or fear, I have found myself repeating "Your hesitant heart flutters, not wanting to upheave." My nature is to always keep the peace. So when I need to have the strength to share what is true for me, even if it may cause upset I remember this experience and I have all that I need.

It is a blessing to be a writing poet.

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