Earth's Heart

A conversation with the heart of the World…

The tears you weep,

           I keep

              within

                 me,

   they wake me at night

when it feels

  as if the Light

       has left

           us

for your heart

   is my heart,

       I feel your pain

          as the soft grey rain

crying out for the caged ones,

   the starving ones,

            the unseen tragedies,

                       the cruelties kept hidden

where polite people cannot know them,

   but still they rise

         unbidden

as wailing ghosts in their nightmares

       their minds have blocked you out

     but their hearts are tied to you

  and must open to you

as a spear stabbed cruelly

  left me gasping,

     fainting

on the edge of heartbreak,

  your cries

my heart,

   your heart,

       trail them in their sleep

screaming them awake

 they try to drown them

             in a bottle of vodka,

or a line off a mirror

        that stares emptily back up at them,

or buy them off with false gold

 that next to your sunshine has barely a shimmer,

   not even a glimmer

        of your beauty

              after the rain

they reason with logic

and big words to explain the injustice,

divorced from emotion,

    because it would hurt too much to feel

        the horror of your Real

if they thought before they ate

  and saw the misery on their plate

     they would choke in guilt and shame

and so they choose not to know

   what “civilisation” daren’t show,

they look away

   and shadows

cloud over the day

the killing for fun

because they’re taught we’re not one,

      Earth which spells heart,

  how can they even think we’re ever apart?

  oh!

      my heart,

          your heart

 beats within mine

      in time

 with the song of our dream

    as a stream

will eventually meander down to the sea

  oh heart,

    my heart,

 their hearts

will still open

    and

weep with me

  that the beasts

the innocent

    should be wild and free

Christine Jordaan, 2013
© 2017

    

 

For everybody who loves the animals....

A Blessing for the Eco-Warriors

Earth
   Mother,
    these hearts
      these weary, aching hearts
they break anew each day
   a thousand ways
these brave warrior hearts
     bleed for the animals

          and You

Please lend us strength to handle the horror
that we might stay strong
   Guide us in our actions to take
       inspire us on our paths
that we may have Heaven on Earth
the way You meant it to be

Angels stay with us
  protect us on our journey
     bathe us in Light
these weary Warriors
    fighting the good fight

when all is Dark
   and our flame flickers and sputters
let us know Faith
    and healing with love
Yours
   and our own

When we look ahead and see a barren Earth
 dead and empty of the beloved beasts
remind us of winter
    and the seed
deep underground
   which always blossoms in glorious color
when You have decreed

When we feel hatred
and would become less
   remind us
that only through love
    can we transmute the evil

Shine down
   the silver-gold violet ray of transmutation
and a waterfall of stardust of love and inspiration
    on this faltering Earth

Bless and protect all these healer-warriors
 and when it all feels too much
   let us lay our tired heads and aching hearts
       down on your Earth body to rest in your stillness
          and let the birds sing us to a place deep within
where we know everything will always be ok
    because You are always
       here
         with
            Us

(Christine Jordaan, 2013)

I have decided to ask this blessing each day for you and for me to help us with the horror - you could all join me... and this energy will build up like a golden pool on the inner planes where we can go drink... and also visualise the silver-gold violet ray of transmutation which transmutes wounds into wisdom.... and dark into light.... shining down non-stop on Earth 

this crazy planet spinning through the multi-verse

I hear the Satanists pray every day for the evil to continue ruling Earth.

I love the way Muslims incorporate prayer throughout their day.

So this love of animals is an attitude, a wish, a prayer...

Its a way we live here on Earth

And the horror we have to somehow bear

is easier when its shared

Before I used to keep my spiritual musings and writings on another blog... but its only when we heal the rift in our psyche caused by our split from nature and the Sacred, will Heaven come to Earth.

We need to bring the Sacred into our daily lives and doings....

   and see nature as Sacred ground....

then there is just no way we could kill it or pollute it

torture it, maim it, wear it....

Be blessed.

Unbearable Pain

They cut you,

precious you,

  peeling away your skin

your life

   as you lay just alive in agony

utterly shocked at the horror

of

   Us

All this pain so some empty human could wear your skin

next to theirs for the pleasure and the status

for their pleasure and vanity

you died,

precious you,

with the horror of

Us

in your consciousness from your birth to your gruesome torturous end

What a miserable life you were bred into

neglected

unfed

unloved

cold

huddled in terror

you waited

to meet your grand destiny 

that Mankind the Civilized had in store for you

and humanity became a little less human this day

that they peeled your skin

your life

away

while you lay just alive in agony

utterly shocked at the horror

of

   Us.

Christine Jordaan (2013) 

The picture that I wrote this about... I could not post... I can't look at it.  Its too unbearable to look at.

What are we doing to the animals??

Lament of Gaia

It was Springtime

   and you were a child in my forests

        in awe at the splendor of the towering trees

I gave you rainbows to smile at after the storm

   and butterflies when you slipped and fell down

       a whole garden of friends in all shapes and sizes

with feathers, and fur

     scales and claw

      so much for you to love

            and to love you

I sob now

  those forests are torn down 

      and tears of acid raining on dead ground

You have grown away from me

   slipping into a treeless realm

where my soft sunlight cannot reach you

  I sing to you on the evening breeze

but you have built walls to shut me out

     and discord has entered the lands

In this,

  the autumn of my being

   the colors are fading fast

I am wilting,

   dying

my meadows are silent

   empty

but for your ghosts walking the dreams

  of happy summertimes

My waters are poisoned

      shadowed and grey

  the merry ones do not leap and dive

all is empty and dead

 choking in plastic

   and foul green slime

vomited up by your industries into my once crystal clear rivers

Will nobody save me?

Where is my Love

  in this twilight of my story

     where on Earth do You linger

  

     My heart?

Do you lie dreaming on the tides of yesteryear

    locked in a  happier embrace with me?

       are you lost in what could have been

have you seen

what they are doing to Me?

Awaken!

    Night draws near

cloudy and cold

  I have need of you

Hold up your sword

   and fight the good fight

defend your non-human brethren

as I gave you my flesh and fruit

 my Sweet

   as I sheltered you

now awaken the Son within

   to shelter them

or else

   I am lost

I will sink back on these dead petals in despair

     and winter will come

but this time it will not give way to spring

    No, I will become ice

you will not know me

   and then I will crack

      torn apart by the lack of You

as my heart is tearing now

   I will be no more

     not even a whisper

for no voices will be left to sing of me

you will be gone

  abandoned your form

      perhaps found a new heart

All will be dead

      lost

my beauty forgotten

Or shall I erupt in wrath as a woman scorned

    lash out in rage

        great burning rivers of gold

pour down with ash and mud

    until I have covered every last sign of you

        the mockery you have built

these monuments to your vanity

     towering high

they will crash and crumble

    back into dust

You have ripped away my forests

torn the heart out of my body

    consuming all

leaving nothing for your animal family

the beautiful fabric I weaved for you

was full of life and joy

    now it is rent with bloodstained gaping holes

the horror

    the despair

         seeping

slowly covering all

   is almost too much to bear

Come back to me

   come back to me

come dance again in my fields and flowers

   bring your harps

      your words

and love me with music in the moonlit hours

it is nigh midnight

   we’re on the brink

you and I

   shall we go plummeting down

or soaring up high

to a new way of being

  here

   in love

together again

it is possible

   if you could learn to share

     and care

harming none

  if you could just realise that

       All is One

Christine Jordaan (2013)

© 2017

For all the fallen gentle giants

Qumquat,

 you will not come down to drink today

   nor tomorrow

       nor any day

  the birds are missing your gentle presence

       in the cool forest glades

          at the heat of midday

You are now a memory
  a dream of the trees and savannah

    an echo of a song the wind whispered to the sun

        of a picture She painted when the world was born

Your well-worn trails lead now

   to sad empty spaces

     down at the river at dawn

Qumquat and all the Fallen

     we mourn you

you were gentle and humble

    asking nothing

        except to live

free as is your birthright

   we mourn you

You are gone

     cruelly murdered in greed

tusks sawn from you

     lives torn from you

left in the dust

    in agony

        to bleed

Qumquat,

you will not raise your trunk to the sky again

   to smell for the cool summer rains

or lead your trusting family safely

through the golden-green plains

your noble silhouette is missing

against the setting African sun      

     the full Moon shines down for you

but you are gone

     you are gone

Qumquat,

   we honour your spirit as a pure chord

sung in a Divine chorus of birdsong

as a brilliant green ray on the rainbow

      after the storm

the light of the world is now muted

   even the stars look dimmer and forlorn

We are the richer for you having been amongst us

and the poorer for your passing

And if at all you watch over us

   from a place much kinder to you and yours

       please forgive us

and in these darkening days

     send the angels down to light the way     

        Home.

Qumquat and all the Fallen

     we mourn you

you were gentle and humble

    asking nothing

        except to live

free as is your birthright

   we mourn you

© 2017

 Christine Jordaan, 2013

Maputo Elephant March 04 October 2013, Mozambique

Today I marched for the elephants.

I marched for the right of a species to simply carry on living

And I marched too for my soul

the right of my soul to dance in joy in the full ecosystem that Nature gifted to humans

not to just exist in the barren wasteland that Mankind is creating

And I marched for the right of my son to grow up with elephants as part of the human psyche

not with their memory a story to be told with regret and too-late-tears

And I marched for all the other beings in all shapes, colours, and sizes

who are suffering under Man’s occupation and dominion of Earth

And as I marched

with the sweat pouring into my eyes

and the drumbeat of Africa inside me and around me

proudly holding my banner high

I do not think that in all the colourful chaos

anyone noticed the tear slip from my eye

Today I marched for the elephants

with adults and children

of all races and creeds

in 43 cities around the Earth

we marched for the Gentle Giants

Brutally slaughtered tusks hacked from their faces whilst still alive

in front of calves who traumatised often do not survive

whole herds gunned down or their waterholes poisoned with Death

     WE CANNOT LET ELEPHANTS DRAW THEIR LAST BREATH

Today I marched for the elephants

and for the integrity and compassion of humanity

and which needs to now SHOUT OUT and say NO MORE!

We left at 5.30am today on 2 speedboats across the bay of Maputo...

Thankfully it was beautiful weather.

Enoques Zavala coaching our chants

On our way...

Waiting at UEM still practicing our chants

Thanks Patricia Guerra for organising sponsors for our awesome T-shirts..

                                                     
                                                 Rodolfo Cumbane from MSR

What do we want... save elephants... when do we want it - NOW!!

 Who does ivory belong to?  Elephants!!

Home at the end of the day... sunburnt but exhilarated...

Thankyou to Enoques Carlos Zavala - my co-plotter and thankyou to all our wonderful sponsors, without whom this would not have been possible:

Athol Emerton, Luis Kanje, Wayne Fraser, Construa, Sargres Restaurant, Kevin Fleischer,

and Armando Guenha, Rodolfo Cumbane, Patricia Guerra, Laurie Gill, Roy Jansen van Rensburg, Karel Meyer, Anifa Bacar, and Bruce King for all their kind assistance.

And to all my Machangulo marchers the Elephant Warriors
and to every person in Maputo that joined us!

And to the OccupyforElephants people for inspiration and moral support!

LOVE you guys!! 

No more cutting our forests for dirty oil.  

We have all the technology we need to live sustainably WITH the Earth not OFF it.

Stay OUT of the Arctic!

All other species have just as much right to be here as we do. We do not own them or Earth.

And HELL NO to GM crops!

Next march?? BAN Canned Lion Hunting 15 March 2014 - SEE YOU THERE!

World Elephant Day

 Happy World Elephant Day!

Sr Rodolfo Cumbane, from the Maputo Special Reserve, came to talk to the kids from Mapanga and Nhonguane Schools, to explain why the elephants, and nature, are important.
Clap hands! Much appreciated.  Thankyou Rodolfo, and anytime you are in the area, shout!  I will happily come drink a beer.

Another kindred spirit!

Rodolfo in action

Innocence, a Ranger

Dear Fat Cat

Fat Cat!

You sit atop your pile of gold

      of broken dreams

            and promises sold

Don’t you know that it’s lethal

      the power that you hold?

Did you forget Umuntu Ngumuntu Ngabantu

   or how it feels to be hungry?

Fat Cat!

  Get out of the concrete jungle

        take off your shoes

go sit under a baobab with your spine against its trunk

   and wait to connect with the wisdom of the Earth that sustains us

Can’t you hear Mother Africa weeping for her lost children and animals

   for her polluted streams and oceans

        doesn’t She sing in your blood anymore

             don’t you know its together we stand

                             or together we fall?

Fat Cat! 

   There is no more cream if the cow is dead!

Fat Cat!

   I am the umKhuhlu tree

         standing as a woman on a battlefield

surrounded by dead bodies of loved ones

     I am the wilderness

  which you are allowing to be desecrated

     horns and tusks hacked from my body while I'm alive

        I am every consciousness that is staring out a cage

                     instead of roaming free in the wilderness as is my birthright

                I am being raised just to be shot by foreign cowards

                        and then my bones and carcass sold

                            instead of decomposing into the soil of my Africa

                                  to return home

Fat Cat!

I am a Child of Africa

         don’t you see I have a gun in my hand

      instead of food?

Fat Cat!

  I am a Woman of Africa

            I carry the collective memory of years

                of systematic rape of your wives and daughters

Why do you not protect us? 

   we are not pawns to be used in your wars or bartered as cattle

Fat Cat!

What did you used to dream when you were small

    when you imagined your destiny?

Did you watch the sun setting behind thorn trees on the bushveldt

or listen to the drum of thunder in an afternoon rain shower?

Fat Cat!

  don’t you know you were born to be a majestic African Lion?

not a spoilt domesticated kitty

  purring around the ankles of the

   morally corrupt, empire-building, global Elite

You were BORN to be king

Half the countries on this continent fought brutal and bloody wars

  to shake off foreign oppressors

    who divided us along imaginary lines drawn in the sands

why have you now prostituted us to Asian countries

     for our natural resources? 

why are you pimping us to another oppressor

with a terrible human rights history

   and abuse of nature?

why are you allowing foreign syndicates to enter our lands

    and destroy our nature and communities?

They do not belong here if they do not respect our nature and our people

Fat Cat!

  do you have no faith in us

        or love of us

    we have all the talent and creativity and resources we need

      right here to sustain us

Fat Cat!

   Our mineral wealth is here to FEED OUR people

          not to arm our children with guns to go shoot other Africans

Fat Cat!

  I am AFRICAN  

    have you forgotten you are too?

Inspire us to look inwards to Africa for inspiration

   not to the West

    where the children of its broken society are fed on pornography and drugs

nor to the East

   where the government elite still keeps the common man chained

       whilst touting the line of “best for the people”

but instead underneath us

  to our roots in the deserts of the northern cape

    from the rolling hills of emKhambathini

     to the majestic spears of Quathlamba 

Fat Cat!

When you die

  and your material form falls away

   to pure consciousness

  when all human-engineered boundaries

      of race and class and species

      are revealed to be the shackles on our ankles

keeping us chained in servitude

   to the Evil that currently rules our beautiful planet

  when you look down on earth

and only notice Soul, not form or colour

     will you not be ashamed of what happened on your watch?

Fat Cat!

Please roar out and become our Lion…

Please instill in our children pride in our natural heritage and inspire them to protect it by your example.  

Please say NO to the trade in rhino horn.

Please destroy any confiscated horns and ivory.

Please outlaw hunting safaris and canned animal farming practices.

Please safeguard our coastlines for the visiting whales.

Please ban the longliners wreaking havoc in our waters.

Please remember who you were born to be.

by Christine Jordaan, 2013

The Garden

A bubble-gum pink Rose is nodding to Herself

in the sunlight outside my window

having drunk Her full of early  morning tea of dewdrops and mist

She sways sleepily

dreaming

The Oak Tree

stands proudly full of birds

now and again sending an acorn thudding down to the grass

where Ants are busy, always busy

carrying a bug carcass away to their winter pantry

like a miniature Olympic relay team working hard together

The Garden is a family

of all shapes and sizes

chirping, foraging,

and croaking in the pond

some rooted

some flying

some working

some dying

but all intertwined in the Story

If only Humans played nicely and accepted their role

and their time to briefly shine

knowing there is growing

and then going

peacefully on

if only we accepted gracefully our part in the Story

instead of our arrogance in thinking we are the whole book

They closed our eyes 

you see

cut the connection to our angels and guides

leaving a chasm gaping wide

which They fill with Want and Fear

and so the little human ants scurry off to church every Sunday

the one day they try to be good and live as They tell us we should

and every other day

stuff their greedy little paws

with more and more

and MORE

forgetting just to watch

the dreaming Roses

They don’t tell us you know

that if we were to go

into the Garden at Midnight

our hearts would be healed

They don’t tell us because they cannot charge a fortune for this

it’s free

though probably soon

some greedy fool will bottle it and sell it as Therapy

I know

and the Rose knows

that soft rain on our heads

is better than my old Friend a bottle of Vodka

and the Oak Tree laughs down

and says if I could put my feet where his roots grow

I would really know

but I have to inform him

I am no fan of mud squishing between my toes

though I did try it once in the interest of healing

I laugh

and the Oak Tree laughs

and the Rose knows

                 by Christine Jordaan 2012, Mom's Garden

Santa Maria village and surrounds...