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    All through the month of June you can experience the Shakti Magic with Shakti founder Siobhan Harper-Nunes. The on-line series includes Take Me to the Top which covers our professional development, Choose your Happy – yes that old shakti fave and If You Don’t know where you’re going, a must for business women. And last but not least, Siobhan’s signature session, Design the life you Love. The sessions are on Mondays at 7pm from 12th June. Click here to book your spot or to find out more. Please see below for the sign up links for the individual webinars: 12th June: Take Me To The Top: 19th June: Choose Your Happy: 26th June: If you don't know where you're going: 3rd July: Design the life you love: We love you babes, and this series was created just for the girls!

  • My funeral - my words

    My body is just a shell Don't waste any money on any extravaganza Share stories about me with each other Wear bright clothes Touch each other's souls Come with a smile Clap a little, dance a little and cry a little if you wish You will not be able to see me because my body would perish but my essence will be so very close to you. Remember that while you might be weeping I will be laughing. If you really feel that you want to spend some money to mark my homecoming then feed as many mouth as my age, plant trees and just love one another- your dead a long time. You don't need to pray for my soul to be in peace, my soul was at peace when I was housed in my body and when I merge with the over soul, the universe, I am free and totally at peace. Share happy silly funny deep stories don't hold any- thing back. Find the cheapest way to dispose of my body and check my third drawer in the office I've already paid for my funeral! Peace be with you. By Paramjit Oberoi

  • Hopeful

    In terms of the sanctuary, most of us will go back home after an evening out and that will be a safe place, but for 1 in 4 women an 1 in 6 men, home is the least safe place they go back to. Re- lationship abuse can happen to anyone it doesn't discriminate Sadly, a young neighbour recently ended her life leaving 3 beautiful children. This was triggered by an unhealthy relationship. this is the impetus for this poem. It's dedicated to her. Hopeful. Deep breath, Chin up, Shoulders back, Chest proud Now silence that voice that speaks on repeat, saying, "you're not allowed " You're not allowed to leave... "Nah sis please don't be deceived" You're not allowed... "Nah sis pick up the car keys" Too bad to stay.too invested to leave... You're sucked in...latched on.. sayin to yourself "I need to stay for the sake of my daughter...or. I need to make it work for the sake of my son" You can't leave ...becomes you won't You won't leave... becomes you don't Meanwhile your reflection is becoming a stranger And Your thoughts and emotions signal red flag. emotional, mental, spiritual, even physical danger... By now the cost of being free, Feels so high that you abandon the idea of liberty, And continue to live in what feels like some form of domestic captivity By now it's not what THEY DO TO YOU that's affecting your health, ..It's...what... theyre ...keeping.. you from doing for yourself. Your thoughts, perspectives, beliefs are all tangled and mix up Your feet feel stuck .. You're Drowning in emotional bruises and scared by spiritual cuts Spinning your world off its axis ..and those seemingly irrelevant subtitles and nuisances. they...twist your internal organs, suck at your soul.. You may or may not have heard... of the term coercive control This sweet little one ... this daughter or this son. This precious gift of life who came through me.. How dare I destroy a birth right, and taint a beautiful legacy. Leaving isn't easy, there is no perfect exit.. You have to dig deep, to rebuild your life and fix it... It may take help from professionals, family, friends . ...and a well-made plan Deep breath, chin up...start your life over.... If I did, you can.. By Denise Amory-Reid

  • The Red Mist

    I am all things Greek in the uniqueness of my rage. I am Medusa's head - tangled plaits flapping in a non-existent breeze as they wrap viper-like around your neck and squeeze. Did I mention my eyes can also freeze? I am Zeus' Missus Hera - when thwarted, best abort all plans. I stamp, I shout, I throw things about, possibly the most expensive items in the house. I chew wood, spit it out, lucky, lucky you, if my blood does not shoot past it's boiling point, Id hate to disappoint. I've even driven my man to madness - I'm that bad, and he that sad - when I've finished my badassery - believe me. I am Circe if my partner upsets me - I am that sorceress who changes men to swine. Mine is the wrath of all the Gods of the Sea - see me, read, tsunami. Iam Nyx Goddess of Anger, the shadowy, shady lady of night - if you do not do right by me. I am worse than Chaos - his tears are bathos beside me. I am banshees wailing the doom of those in or out of the rooms I prey in - crying so shrilly the Moon shivers and drops her head. I am The Egyptian Book of the Dead - translated - funerary text for all who vex me. Beware my frown. Do not allow the red mist to come down - for when day falls away and night makes it's play everything must drown. By Elizabeth Uter

  • When I die

    A list of demands feels peculiar coming from the dead, a bit like when you find a lost shopping list lying lonely on the street, or a pinned-up notice whispering requirements in the crowd of junk on the local shop noticeboard. Each of them belong- ing to the hands of a disembodied spectre, though I suppose that factually would be correct for my position. I would like to be burnt to a crisp, cinders, ashes to ashes a la David Bowie's request. This is so my partner can smush me up into a diamond, leaving maybe a finger or a toe to be scattered out to sea. I would like to be a diamond so I can sit fabulous- ly on a pinky, winking up at him as he goes about his daily chores. Id like to let him feel the joy I felt under every touch, every caress of his skin on mine, A diamond is solid too, reminding him that what is created cannot be destroyed, it merely changes shape: like water to ice, water to steam, chocolate to a happy belly. To the sea with the rest of me, so i can swim with the fish and fly with the gulls. A medium once told me she saw me as a sea bird, and I'd like to join them to make her right. An adventurer, eagle eyed, the troubadour of the waves, singing their poetry out to the cliffs, caves and sky. By Grace Radford

  • Words

    Words carry energy. Words can raise vibrational frequency When we use words for good and select them mindfully… They can send a heart swimming in a sea of love, erasing feelings of insecurity, re-charging a tired mind with injections of positivity. Whether it’s what we write….read, speak….or …hear Words, can shape and determine the beauty of our day…or month, or our year Verbs and adjectives Paragraphs and sentences Accompanied by mixture of tones and melodies Delivery seasoned with gesture’s and body languages Birthed out of ruminations and inferences Words can hurt, ..heal….or ….harm Cause upset, or keep you calm A shout… a murmur….or a ..mumble Words can humiliate, …..stumble or humble… They mould the life and mind of a child More than sounds, that pass through the larynx, into the air and linger for a while In your home, the words you choose contribute to the psychological environment... ….the development of temperament …Forming internal talk, dictating an outward walk.. Contouring emotions, perceptions, beliefs, and ….day to day thoughts Even a delicate whisper in the ear can be a vital step towards change and transformation So clapped at the beginning of  this poem… now ….here is a call to action Question is.. Will you choose to bridle harmful words….. pause and think ….before speaking? Will you….consider how…when you walk away… your words leave a friend, sibling or child… feeling? …can you clap once again if you agree… that words can transform… …….carry energy…. and raise vibrational frequency… AXÉ"…beautiful…people…. season your words with life's good force.. love… vitality, grace and sincerity. by Denise Amory-Reid

  • I see you.

    I see your dynamism I see your power I see your beauty I see your courage I see your victory Yes Queen Yes. I see your elegance I see your style Walk that walk The world is your catwalk I see your evolution I see your wisdom I see your joy Live for joy... I see your desires and they are beautiful. I see your determination How you keep on going having faith in what you want I love your fire! Keep blazing your own trail and keep shining. I see your generosity so beautiful in your giving I see your willingness Every single day. I see your wholeness I see your majestic excellence radiant in your own unique expression. I see you Black Queen and I am not the only one who knows you are a black queen

  • A Super Woman

    A beautiful woman she is, in her dark long curly hair, she walked with confidence and ease.. Her bright eyes accentuating her pretty oval face, in a warm gentle smile she shone wearing a smart yellow dotted dress with black tights and black shiny boots. She kept her head held high as she stride, sometimes she walked on barefoot, always walking with grace. There was a spring in her step. She looked so elegant and radiated in femininity. Her smile shone from afar; you could almost sense her presence. She lit up the room where there was a sense of gloom. She spoke gently in a voice so dainty. Pride wasn't her thing; in humility she sprung. She cared for others, just as she cared for herself. She loved others, just as she loved herself. There was something about her, something special; you couldn't put a finger on it. She was so free and relaxed. She walked as though she was floating on alr. Her gaze was special, her eyes bright, and her mind fully present. She is a super woman. by Rosalie Dias

  • Inside Me Is A black Eyed Animal

    I place my feet in the world, it feels so cold, and I want to scream. My heart's racing, I don't feel good, and I look for someone to blame. Sometimes I feel shame, I have a frown on my face, and rage in my heart. I want to talk to somebody, but there's no one around. I want to shout, but I think I really want to yell. It's like sounding a bell, but no one's listening, I can tell, no one understands, how I feel, I think they're going through the same, they're crying too. We're all in the same boat. Then alone I sit under a tree, watching the birds fly, clouds pass me by. I sit there in silence, with my eyes closed. Then I hear a voice, it's so calm and gentle, I feel it coming from within my soul, "Be still and know that I am He. I sense something in my heart, it's gentle, it's sweet, and it's touching, it feels like a presence of love and light. And that's the higher power, flowing with love, streaming from above. It's full of grace, that put a smile on my face. It's there, it cares, for you and me. By Rosalie Dias

  • Dear Daughters

    If you are gender stereotyped, encouraged to wear pink, play with Barbies instead of trains, dream of being a princess instead of a priest, to be nice instead of bold, quiet instead of outspoken, accommodating instead of demanding... If you are given the message on repeat that your body is there for others - to judge, scrutinise, touch, evaluate, compare and enjoy.. If you are labelled bossy, bitchy, brassy, blonde, uptight, ditzy, frigid, pretty, loud, or pretty loud... If you are sexually harassed, cat-called, date-raped, coerced, or God forbid, worse... If it's enshrined in law that you at 14, 24, or 40 matter less than an embryo.. If you become depressed, anxious, bulimic, anorexic, as you obey the instructions to make yourself smaller and smaller till you disappear... If you abandon a brilliant future because you didn't see yourself reflected where you wanted to go... If you partner up and fall into what seems to be expected instead of what you want... If you find your bookshelves, music collection and government full of male voices... If you find it normal and unremarkable that the divine feminine in you is ignored, trampled and disregarded... If you experience the most sacred hour of giving birth as a time to be poked, prodded and dictated to by the patriarchy, and are then told not to complain because you have a "healthy baby'... If you're told "No-one wants to see that" as you try to feed your baby... If your voice is ignored, interrupted, unwelcome, silenced... If you receive the message that it's safer not to try in case you fail, and failure isn't safe.... If you find yourself pitted against and sepa- rate from other women... If you feel shamed for bleeding, orgasming, sprouting hair, flesh and breasts... If you are saddled with memories of life- times of violence and cruelty... If you tune out from your own dreams and desires because it's just too painful.. If it turns out everything in the Earth is not yours because you're a woman... Then my daughter, I didn't do enough. Being your mother makes me brave. Knowing that you will be left with what I couldn't change makes me want to fight as long as I have breath. By Zoe Challenor

  • I was 16

    The feeling of grass strands in between my bare foot. The smell of freshly roasted nuts at the Christmas market The touch of human kindness skin to skin The taste of cherries on my longing tongue Snuggling up in fresh cotton bed sheets after a nice warm bath. The once familiar safe smell of my mothers scarf she'd never leave the house without. That one pair of comfort joggers that I would wear to death. The sound of my dogs bark. I was scared of it when I was a child but now it grew comfort to me. I don't even remember what most of these felt like. I don't remember how wholesome a hug was or even the taste of cherries. But not remembering my mothers over- powering smell makes me the most mad. How am I supposed to re enter a world after having all my basic rights stolen? How can I wake up in my own bed and not even recognise it? Why do I startle at knocking on a door? Why do I jump at my fire alarm? Why can I not listen to a school bell chime without it taking me back to that place? An environment meant to protect me has only made me a freak in society. i had to reteach my self skills u develop as a new born. Wis whole personality was stripped and lam this frig He piece of China that will shatter at any loud noise, alarm or touch. Tam this big messed up monster of ptsd and discom. fort. My home is not my home atleast it doesn't feel like it. What type of person feels more comfortable in a psy- chiatric ward than their own home. What type of person misses a place that scarred me in ways I will never be healed 16 I was 16 years old stopping my friends from suffocat- ing themselves to death I was 16 years old with wrists bloody and scarred. "I was in a shark attack" "it was my cat" "I really like tigers" When are these excuses going to wear thin Most people are scared of death or spiders where I am scared of short sleeves I am scared of Summer. I am scared of my phone pinging at 2 in the morning incase i have to be a suicide helpline and try to convince my friend there is more to living when we know in a world as fuck up as this you have the right to give up. At 16 I had the ambulance on speed dial. At 16 was trying to save everyone around me while I was the one needing saving. What did they think was gonna happen when u put a bunch of suicidal teenagers in the same place for months. What was the actual logistics for this. I can't be chased up stairs without thinking it's my friend chasing me with a knife again. I can't listen to knocking without thinking of my friends head banging the walls. I can't have my fire alarm go off without thinking it's the incident alarm. And I can't ever get that childhood back that I missed. I can't ever get those social skills back that I lost by being a ptsd driven warning sign. Everyone keeps their distant like I'm a hazard like I'm a ticking time bomb about to have this massive break- down if they get to close. So I fake a smile I fake a laugh and I fake a personal- ity because I don't know who I am anymore. I don't who they want me to be. I please them with a smile. I please them with a hug. I please them by making them laugh. Because as long as they think I'm normal I am as long as they don't know how screwed up I am I'm not. And as long as they are happy I am. By Saffy Cox

  • My Pain

    Sometimes the pain I carry inside me is so strong that I have to run away from what I know, from the world, from people, from dog and cat ... I have to stay alone and sink into this pain until the top of my head ... Feel it with every millimeter of my weak body ... Immerse myself in it and become One... The one that burns and freezes at the same moment ... The one that causes physical sensation and thus leaves me numb, insensitive and dazzled by the pounding silence that screams inside like a scared little child longing for his mother .. By Magdalena Breitkopf

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