Sunday, December 29, 2013

Opening Doors

The View From the Top
Gillian Cornwall, c. 2011

There it is, everyone. The new year looms on the horizon but, why does it matter? It's just another day, right?

There is a part of me that believes this but there is another part that appreciates the imposed marker in time, an opportunity to consider and review how I live the life with which I have been blessed and to think of ways I can live well. 

I have had times of hardship and I appreciate the veil between a life of ease and a life of difficulty. There are changes that can take place in a breath. So many of us are but a pay cheque away from hardship, the possibility of homelessness or a bad choice away from abuse and debilitating lack of self-esteem. 

It doesn't always take money to make a difference, though cash can be a powerful tool for change; however, it does always take time - the most valuable commodity. As I consider what I will do differently in 2014, I will ensure that I continue to make time to help others, time to listen, time to share and love my fellow creatures. 

There is so much we can do to see each other better, to improve our relationships, to love without holding and without need. I truly believe that if you give of yourself freely, by giving universally, you heal your own soul and the soul of the world, for we are truly one, inseparable in the energy of life. 

I am grateful for this platform, across which I have been able to share my words and thoughts with you over the years. I am grateful for the friendships I have made through social media and the endless opportunities to learn and grow through my on-line and in-person communities. 

As we follow our paths into 2014, I wish each of you a full life and an open heart. May the universal love flow through you and fill you as a fountain. Be fluid; be open; be full. With love to each of you.

-Gillian Cornwall, c. December 29, 2013.

Hulopo'e, Lana'i, HI
G. Cornwall, c. December 2012.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Comfort and Joy

Me and my brother, with a
somewhat stern looking Santa
c. 1965

Christmas time, I lay under the tree staring up through the fresh, outdoor sent of the scotch pine, my eyes blurring with the mystery in the strings of clipped, painted bulbs of blue and orange and green and red. The delicate, sparkling, colourful ornaments of an impossibly thin glass dangled precariously from the ends of the branches and the stretch of golden garland was carefully wound 'round the circumference of the tree from the angel atop to the bottom boughs. The whole process was completed by my brothers and me, as strings of silver, tinsel icicles were artfully tossed on select branches. We tried to keep these out of reach of Sarah, our Siamese cat, lest she ingest them in some sort of untimely, seasonal attempt at her own demise. Occasionally, we found evidence of her tinsel snacking in sparkling litter box 'parcels'. 

Back under the tree, I lay pyjama-clad and lost in the magic of the season. I was small enough that this tree land was a fort unto itself. For a day, perhaps even more, there would be peace and I would be lost in a world where kindness prevailed amid the songs of the season played on our Zenith High Fidelity Stereo System. This was a world of reindeer and Santa Claus, surrounded by mysterious packages wrapped in papers depicting dreamworlds of sleighs and horses, snowmen and silver bells, snowflakes and stockings spilling over with treats. 

May it always be a time to rest, to spend in loving kindness with those for whom we are grateful and may the scent of a fresh forest or a string of sparkling lights always be enough to bring you comfort and joy. 

With gratitude to each of you, for your love, your kindness, and your willingness to get up every day and do your best through good times and bad. You are loved and I am blessed for all the wonder you share - simply through your desire to live with love and kindness as the soil within which you have planted your roots. 

May every one of you share comfort and joy this season and every wish for a happy and healthy new year. 

-Gillian Cornwall, c. December 22, 2013.

Sunday, December 15, 2013


 The Beach at Hulopoe
Lana'i HI
Gillian Cornwall, c. December 2012

Awareness is a process and, self-awareness, in its entirety, impossible to achieve as the human animal is too amorphous in its being (or, rather, its becoming) to pin to a moment of complete self-understanding; nevertheless, I attempt to gain on the state, if only to get a brief glimpse of myself, a flash in the headlights and then the taillights a second later. 

In these fleeting moments, I am aware of the unstoppable nature of self. I acknowledge the chips and cracks, the wear marks and the pieces that still shine - the whole lot held together with duct tape and glue and bits of string. All of these restoratives made of moments of courage and strength and desire to go on.

It's all that I am. There is no magic, no special anything. There is just 'me', standing naked and flawed and prepared to continue - expecting nothing and hoping for the best. The scars on my landscape are bold facts, integrated into the fabric of my being. They teach. They remind. They are the key to change - both the way I think and the way I behave. 

I accept myself as I am now, in this moment, and this acceptance allows me the depth and breadth of peace required to maintain the open channel through which love flows, deep and eternal, with integrity. 
-Gillian Cornwall, Edited: December 15, 2013.

 The Beach at Hulopoe
Lana'i HI
Gillian Cornwall, c. December 2012 

Angels on the Water
Lana'i HI
Gillian Cornwall, c. December 2012 

Sunday, December 08, 2013

The Gift of Evergreen

peaceful moments
senses heightened

I walk among these winter woods
of evergreen,
every green.
From western winds, a carpet laid
in pine and spruce and cedar 
with every footfall fresh.

Branches gathered
fingers stuck with pine sap scent
this air freshener
the real McCoy.

Intertwining perfect circles
still damp
with the whisper
of the first snow fallen.

Rose hips of red
Snowberry bunches
of winter white
all bound in birch
a ribbon found.

Nature's gift
a perfect lift
for spirits fading
running ragged
the season nears.

I hang this wreath
upon your door
The symbol, strength
The circle, friends

-Gillian Cornwall, December 8, 2013.

Sunday, December 01, 2013

Love Poems

The Fortress
Your walls, stone thick
with pretty pikes as soldiers lines
gleaming fierce, wet with rain
'neath this spring sun.
They taunt and point
while pink petals cling
to your metal and stone
blown from pretty plum patches
through this pretty city.

No matter how hard
you try to be hard,
all I see is beauty - 
for I, water, 
I permeate stone,
every drop of me 
in you deep,
in your guarded 
castle keep.

-Gillian Cornwall, c. April, 2009

Open House
I love you.
You may step inside me and wander at will
through the halls of my heart.
Throw open the blinds,
the better to display all that I am. 

See if it is somewhere you would like to hang your hat for a while.

There are no ties to bind you,
no closed doors to lock you in.
I take no captives here.
It hurts too much to hold.
I only wish to look into your eyes
at day's release,
to behold some love, some joy, some peace.

-Gillian Cornwall, c. October 10, 2002.