Enjoy! It’s a fun work-in-progress. I’m learning a lot about music and recording as I go.


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Songwriting Session

By Belle | Filed in Music


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Learning and growing with my knitting skills is similar to the spiritual path. You can’t fake it. You can’t pretend to be further along than you are. You simply must take each moment step by step, and earn your growth through your actual real skills and experience.

I am attempting to learn lace knitting. A few aspects of it currently trip me up, so that it is difficult to find the next project that will gradually teach me what I need to know in order to continue on my knitting path. If I don’t possess the required knitting skills for a certain project, I simply cannot yet move forward with that project.

I know that I will still get there, I will still be able to progress steadily. But I can’t pretend to be further along the path than I actually am.

This knitting observation makes me feel more comfortable with being my authentic self. I can indeed try to be my best, try to be kind and compassionate and a decent person. Sometimes my maturity level simply isn’t there yet. Sometimes I make mistakes. It’s okay. I am still learning and growing, still progressing steadily on my spiritual path.

Today is a snowy day outside, warm and cozy inside the house. I feel very fortunate as I sit with my mug of coffee, knitting supplies, a beautiful sitting room, a friendly cat by my side.

As I was growing up, I was constantly straining to impress others, to appear to be something I was not. (I didn’t know about my own inherent worth, that is not based on anything outside or anything that can ever be taken away.) The past several years on my spiritual path have been about letting go of straining to impress. That means, bringing in my focus to a sense of authentic personal acceptance.

Being my authentic self feels blissful and right, vulnerable and true. Whether it is my knitting path, my spiritual path (aka the path of Soul!), or Yoga, or writing about the mystical sense of life, it finally feels incredible to be just who I am, just in this very moment.

the ice of winter


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A 7 year journey…

By Belle | Filed in Uncategorized

I began my personal development journey a little less than 7 years ago. The funniest thing is, I didn’t think it was working at all. Within that span of time, on my way toward improving my life, I developed fairly severe anxiety.

Today I experienced my own personal version of Bliss. It was a healthy, centered, grounded, clear headed, & uplifting feeling all at the same time. Not only that, when I went out to dinner this evening, my usual anxiety in small restaurants had disappeared.

7 years ago, I knew nothing about personal development or spiritual paths. That changed when I saw the cover of one particular book at a bookshop in DC. The description on the cover, not the title, is what caught my eye.

The actual book is called “Buddha Mind, Buddha Body.” But that simple phrase is what started my personal development quest out of nowhere: ” walking toward enlightenment.”

Interestingly, despite my awesome & blissful day, I wouldn’t use the term enlightenment. But on this journey, I have experienced many “enlightening” moments & epiphanies.

Growing up, I always looked outside myself for approval & acceptance. It worked for a while because I could fit in as a kid. However, as I got older & became an adult, I needed to shift to gain my own personal sense of acceptance & respect. The problem was, I didn’t know how to shift this issue, & my bad habits of always looking outside myself for approval had gained their own type of momentum.

What worked was always being clear about my intention, even when it seemed like I was merely trudging through layers of doubt, bad habits, and negative self talk.

This is hardly the end of the road. But I know from today’s experience how much bliss and personal acceptance I am capable of. I have tremendous gratitude for my life & my good fortune. 

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Poem Five

By Belle | Filed in Poem, Poetry...

Tangled up in you/ with all of the phases I’ve gone through

the truth is a magnificent truth/ not mere fantasy

epic and proud with the music playing loud


passion and romance combining and igniting/ finally I’m seeing a reason for fighting

fighting for my future/ fighting for a chance/ fighting for a place in this

magnificent dance


not on stage/ never that certain/ I’m up in the rafters or behind the final curtain

fantasies plague my mind until I’ve found/ a place in the clouds

or a smile flashed backwards from some crowd


finding love with you was easy to do/ not so easy to follow

yeah, to follow through

reaching for the stars/ reaching for a sign

straightening up my act so I don’t be left behind


imagining the pretty details like ornate gestures made with a lady’s fan/

but all my gestures come out petty and I stifle my emotions like a man

so many words but nothing to say

so much to make pretty, there’s no other way


Drinking wine by candlelight/ keeping ourselves up in the middle of the night

Dancing and loving and making things more/

more energetic than anything I’ve imagined before


Or did you think I’d forgotten your game?

We promised our promises and made masks that could never

look the same./ Forgive me my petty differences and I’ll forgive yours.

But all my dirty laundry has already washed up on your shores.


A few lyrics are pretty pleasing to see/ messed up differences and

then the meaning is lost to me.

The acausal gears, so a-willing to turn; the cauldron to bubble and those

dark aged witches to burn.


The planes were crashing when I left my place/ and flew out all my bearings

into outer space./ We need you to be crazy and we need you to care.

We all know it’s crazy to have such a burden to bare.

My soul’s on fire with the sharpest light. Acausal gears a-turning and more,

as my dirty laundry makes its case on a distant shore.


The spirits have flown and they’re flying around/ but you’d rather stay

out on the town. The sobbing has once again given this theater away/

didn’t you know it’s an epic play?

Write your own lines and strive to be more/ I’m swimming my way to that distant shore.


Dreams and hallucinations are showing their might/ I’m still here yearning

for a worthy fight. But the fight’s a fiction and the drama a bore.

And the giants are ignoring the stifled message, holding out for grumbles of lore.

Love, love, love with something to say./ You know I wouldn’t have dreamt it any other way.


Spider woman is a-weaving again. Making the best out of these legions of men.

The fields were all burned ages ago./ The corpses buried under liters of snow.

But the sun still shines, requesting a relapse. I’ve thrown the game,

like cautions to chance.


If I knew all the books and could rearrange the ages/ I think I’d still end up with

a few blank pages. I’ll spin my yarn and watch the flowers grow.

I’ll guess my way through those liters of snow.

The ghosts are speaking their message again. Don’t go swimming with the likes of men.


The Beats, those poets, were on to something grand. They anticipated my crazy

in ways you’ll never understand. There are songs to play and lyrics to write.

I’m finally ready to fight the good fight./ You know we’re all gasping for breath;

the pollution in the skies is aiming for our death.


But Mother Nature couldn’t quite be sure. She suspected we were actually holding out

for something more. So as the structures fall and the houses collapse,

I won’t be waiting to listen to Taps./ The wheel of fortune has turned and spoken;

no one wants to be your gosh darn token.


I tried to explain my view/ to the dumbest of them all./ It didn’t go well,

and still Alice continues to fall./ The music is playing and the stars have aligned.

But I’m that needle in the haystack who you’ll never find.

I sang a song for you and your people./ You burned me at the stake ages past

for the good of the people.


But reincarnation’s a bitch and the glimmer is a sign. I whispered those changes

that still haunt your damned mind./ Hope is the bird that flutters its wings/

And Love is the energy that always sings./ I tried to care about the critics who damn/

but I still secretly wished to be/ exactly who I am.

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Poem Four

By Belle | Filed in Poem, Poetry...

staring out at me from the cover of national geographic

eyes that have seen the depths of tragic

not so cozy afternoon/ swimming in the depths of the ocean lagoon

a little too much poverty/ a little too soon


reminding me of the will to choose/ images and phrases dance up from the pages

of the last civilization who never knew it

never knew the best/ only knew the worst

the end came and went/ without any notice


tragedy is bloody or tragedy is mundane

all are giving me reasons to jump past the sane

you don’t believe in magic and you don’t believe in God

the river was paved over with layers and layers/ of concrete

and pavement and unanswered prayers


my prayers came back to me unanswered too/ unanswered, unopened

but I decided what to do/ I grabbed the magic from the depths

of the flickering neurons in my brain/ to see how fast I could leap past the sane

leap into the depths of the unknown


setting fire to the antique furniture/ at least in some dream

we can’t remember who built it/ but my nightmares tell me/ we shouldn’t have trusted

don’t trust the traditions they hand to you cold

the same people who stamped your soul as bought and sold

1984 came and went/ plenty of horror and plenty spent


but in a pretty little town on the edge of the world

little girls were reading and learning to dream

you see/ my dream was the biggest yet/ with daring and adventure and no end in sight

I took the sparks from the songs I heard/ and walked past the edge of that forlorn world


you never saw me/ you never knew

but the Universe felt the shimmer/ and the Universe grew

the Universe grew once again/ past the prisons and soldiers and sad sad men

past the places where the women hide/ clutching their children and staying inside

the Universe grew past the stables where horses once stayed

past the fields where once the lions played

the end of our world came and went/ we’re better for it/ the lessons had all been spent


yes that was hell/ back in 1943/ all the bombs exploded and no one survived

but we’re all back here again to stay/ here we are again/ back in the play

the walls of the theater are larger than this day

you don’t believe in your soul or the journeys that it takes

but we fly just the same with our hearts and our aches


those tragic eyes staring out at me/ from the cover of national geographic and all that data can’t see

with blind minds and frozen hearts/ the river paved over and the bombs all sent

the end of the world came and went


I dreamed the dream I wanted still/ my dream came true with a sparkle of magic

I learned that life can be much more than tragic

Shakespeare’s house will be built up once again/ and my vision restored to that day I learned how to swim

and now I swim and I sail and I fly and I surf/ I breathe underwater and come back to the surface


there is magic still/ the Spirits live again/ my dream came true/ my hopes took flight

you slept through the darkest night

but I was awake and I met our fate/ I taught fate to sing and I promised fate treasures

fate climbed out of hell/ and joined our new place


I swim in an Ocean with infinite depths/ I fly through a sky where planets are inhabited

I dream and I hope of the best magic brings/ my vision is clear and my Heart sings

this is a tale that was unknown before/ you won’t believe it and that’s how I’m sure

the dream of Love is much more real/ than the end of the world and the river paved over

tragic eyes will see joy once again/ all the trees will return and truth will shine on friends


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Poem Three

By Belle | Filed in Poem, Poetry...

We’ll spike it to ya, cause we’re the ones who call out the ugliest

Never believing, never conceiving, there is some fault in what we’re perceiving

We will critique, hand you your list of errors, with dread approaching,

never dreaming that we’re encroaching, on your beautiful sense of freedom.


We’ll spike it to ya, with an air of superior “grace,” never guessing that we are

the ones with such mud on our face. I’m lost in this persistent illusion,

shadowboxing as they call off the season; I’m still morose with this apathy and confusion.


We’ll spike it to ya, with sarcasm and glee, hoping this is the nasty comment that will

put you out to sea. Never believing, never conceiving, that there is such fault in the ways

we’re perceiving. Attacking and defensive, sparring and offensive, offending the best and

defending the worst, all while showing off our account, our purse.


Freedom is calling, as my heart is sobbing. All of these stupid social errors have been my

absolute undoing. I had such a way of insulting you to your face, as I demanded a launch

into outerspace. It’s too ridiculous to be believed, yet all too true.


I’ve been lying and scheming, all the while forgetting my dreaming. I’ve been dancing to the

hollow rules of social norms, like a trotting horse always taught how to perform.

Anger won’t even be the proper response to such hollow and ridiculous shows.


Snakes, I’m told, peel off layers of skin, the better to inhabit the real one they’re in.

I’ve never seen it for myself; the wall between me and nature is a thick barrier.

There are conflicting stories about the snake. Religion says the snakes spoke of sin.

Paganism says the snakes will show you to that spiral path within.


I’ve been wound up like a mechanical circus monkey. Taught how to speak and how to

perform. Such a lot of nonsense, just an incredible waste of time. Such a waste of the

wild and beautiful world of Nature that shimmers within me.


They say the time is only and always now, that nothing good comes from anger.

Like a wise and sensuous snake, making patterns across the ground, I will shed the past.

It was a waste of time, at least it couldn’t last.


Traditions rise and traditions fall. Dynasties loath to let go, after it all.

I will break free of the hollow performance dance, break free of the

tretcherous trance. I will be free, and I will dance naked underneath the cosmic stars.


There’s a true dance that will unleash the wildest and the best of me.

Like an ancient Chinese lady, my feet will finally be unbound.

Maybe my anger can be taught to change into fierce wisdom.


I would have appreciated being taught useful knowledge rather than a history

of nonsense and lies. Sometimes I still mimic the mechanical circus monkey

I was so good at being in the past.


The wall between me and Nature is getting thinner. Now it is merely a cloak,

a veil. Or a cobweb that sticks to my fingers as I push through that barrier.

My lantern light is strong, and I will stride through this dark night.

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Poem Two

By Belle | Filed in Poem, Poetry...

Demon spawn, messing up the front lawn

Unleashing the images of my Psyche/ thousands of lions and monsters and demons at a time


You thought you could contain me/ Make me simple, stupid, and plain

But I am that Universal Force/ for which you don’t even have a name


Zombie girls/ won’t put up a fuss

they will simply wait/ until your civilization gets turned into decay and rust


Demon spawn, messing up the front lawn

the ladies of the world think it’s high time to create a little bit of psychotic mess


You don’t get to name me, you don’t get to contain me

The fury that fans my flames/ comes with a force of Nature/

that won’t leave you ever the same


Simple and pretty/ with skeleton lies

Hiding the truths that won’t really ever hide

Beauty won’t ever really be the same/ the psychotic monster within me

finally wants a Name.


The plain and simple Image will never contain/

those primordial forces of Nature/ that you’ve forgotten to name.


It was me/ as the zombies

And it was me/ as the monster

And it was me/ carrying the sword, calling out every imposter


Demon spawn/ messing up the perfectly kept front lawn

Pretty girls in summer dresses/ hiding every ferocious Monster

But some facets of life can never be tamed


You brought back so much from the wild, to be treated, you thought,

as a mere trophy. But this primordial force that can’t be named

will also never be tamed


These demon monster zombies/ won’t be tamed

not by anyone/ not ever/ especially not by the likes of you

You think you have everything figured out. You’ve decided what is

precious and true.


I defy the boundary lines

I defy what’s considered “good”

and every last thing that should

grow deeper and bigger and taller


This ferocious Monster of infinite size/

is tired of your petty lies

I’m a holy terror who can’t be tamed/

I’m wild/ I’m Free/ I create my own Name


The sewer erupted all over the front lawn/

The smelly decay doesn’t even cause harm.


Soulful and wise/ of infinite shape and size

Terrifying and kind/ at the very same time

I speak in voices that cannot be traced

I see the look of horror on your face


Strength and Power are my true, honest, and loyal companions.

I will no longer be intimidated/ I will no longer be afraid.

I am the spirit and the nature of forces

that I have conjured, that I have made.


…But on a lonely island with a hidden shore

I realized that I didn’t want to fight, I didn’t want to battle any more.


Strength and Power are the foundation of good fortune, safety,

security, calm, and contentment.

Women have roots to their Goddess Power.

Women are strong fighters, growing stronger by the hour.


I will not be impressed by your history of lies.

I’m not sure why our true strength should take you by surprise.

Brainwashed by the lies and the horror of “men.”

But this is my castle, and the fools should learn how to swim.


Away, away… Flee and go.

Retreat from the horror you created,

Let it all go.


I am within you, and you are within me.

Infinite patterns of interdependence that anyone

with true vision can see.


Your cruel jokes will never make me smile or laugh.

Your cruel illusions and lies don’t fool me any more.


What have I dreamed? And where have I been?

I dreamt a nightmare infested with the horror of “men.”


The Universal Goddess forces which contain

within them the infinite cycles of re-growth,

are infinite oceans of cosmic Truth and Power.


Don’t fool me.

You’ve gasped your last, at this “late” hour.

…With that, my cosmic ship/ sails for a different shore.


You won’t fool me, never, nevermore.


I see things much differently.

I have a vision of my own type of

Goddess Skies.


The false dynasty is crumbling and falling away.

You can’t even afford to stay.

Flee, flee… go and run.

I conquer the skies, the moon, and the sun.

Your last hour came and went.

Crumbling and decaying,

your viciousness

long since


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