J’Accuse…

In which Angel muses on false accusations and names and shames a love cheat!

I’d like to share with you, My Lovelies, in this Secret Sharing Session that there is one ‘special’ man in my life. He’s a Scottie dog, and very handsome with his beautiful glossy black fur. Blush! My heart belongs to my beloved, Scottie boy Hamish, well most of the time!  But Shh, I think we’ll definitely keep that as our little secret! Grab the tissues, curl up on the couch avec Moi, we shall have a nicely chilled Chardonnay and some choccies and join me in sisterly solidarity, My Lovelies, as I share my boyfriend blues. This is a weepie of epic proportions, I tremble as I relate how I handled the heartache of being falsely accused and misunderstood. I’ve had an upsetting day and I am sure when you hear all about it, you will totally agree that I am not my usual bright and bubbly self.

‘Oh dear, what can the matter be, Angel?’ I hear you solicitously enquire.

Please pass the chocs this way. Hmm, can you find the champagne truffle? That’s my favourite so don’t snaffle it! I shall reveal all my Lovelies.

What did I do? Well, to be perfectly honest as I just said, I do not know. I have been struggling with that very question since it happened. It seems that once again, Angel is in the doghouse. Yet again Angel is accused. Falsely I may add. I am as innocent as the driven snow, as innocent as my lovely pure white furry coat. So, I ask myself, and you too, because I just know you will absolutely agree with me (because I am always right) when did it become a crime to be gorgeous? When did it become a crime to be just sooooo irresistible to the opposite sex? Can I help it if I have been blessed by an abundance of beautiliciousness? Some lucky people are just born beautiful. I am one of the lucky ones.

Unlike some I could mention, but won’t. Some like that rotten, manky Bichon Frise Kimbles. She’s a frenemy of mine ever since stoopid Grannie put her on the cover of those rotten books I told you about. I saw on the telly on one of my favourite glamorous reality shows that you have to keep your friends close and your enemies even closer. She is a total ‘wannabe me’ but as I am just soooo much more beautilicious that isn’t going to happen anytime soon. Anything I have, then Kimbles wants it too, and that includes all my many admirers. One day that dog will go too far and the fur will really fly! Grrr…I really don’t know what her problem is. If her fur wasn’t white ‘cos she is a bichon Frise, it would be green ‘cos she is soooo jealous! And as for those scurrilous rumours that I am jealous of her and her manky modelling career … Grumphhh!

Is it my fault if I have the cutest little tush to waggle as I walk my walk?  Can I help it if my bark is a Siren’s call? Can I help being totally magnetic to any dishy dog lucky enough to gaze on my loveliness?  I mean, I am practically drenched in Charisma, like other mere mortals are in cheap perfume. (Ohh, a little digression here. With my innate shyness, modesty and self-depreciating ways, you have to agree it is indeed a highly potent combination! I just know that you will also agree, now you have been made aware of the facts of the matter that I have been treated so unfairly…Hurrumphh. So, My Lovelies, armed with this knowledge, I ask you, what type of doggy person would get mad about things that are totally beyond my control? Have you guessed just who, my Lovelies? Unbelievable isn’t it? Only my favourite, bestest boyfriend…Erm, I mean my only B.FOops, little slip of the tongue there! It is time for Justice to be done. It is time to name and shame… Hamish!!!

Unbelievably, my B.F (that’s my boyfriend) is totally mad at me and I am deafened by the sound of his silence.

‘Porquoi? Angel, surely he hasn’t dumped you, has he?’ you may well further enquire in stunned disbelief that anyone could actually be mad at me, like ever, as if!

And the short answer is ‘I dunno.’ It saddens me to report it is indeed true that we no longer appear to be an item. O’er I hear your gasps of shock and horror. ‘How could he?’ and ‘How dare he!’ and ‘Has be become crazed and rabid?’ I hear you all cry with solicitous sympathy. Help yourself to another chocolate, pass me a Champagne Truffle please, and listen up, this is what happened…

Hamish was late for our date. He had promised to take me for a lovely walk through Tewin woods. There is a very nice pub, The Plump Partridge, at the end of the walk . They do the most delicious food. We were going to take his humans, Henry and Henrietta. It seems you need to swop money for dinner and drinks and snacks in pubs. Hmm, bit confusing, as at home I just help myself, or get Grannie to go fetch. Her training is coming along nicely, I can report! They seem to get a bit irate when I do that in the village Inn. Some people are selfish like that, especially those other diners with way too much on their plates. Chowing down on too much food can make you hurl. Being a helpful canine, and mindful of hurling humans, I have on occasion relieved some of those overfull plates of their contents. It did not go down well. I was stunned at the lack of gratitude from those ingrates. Humphh…Anyhow, I digress. Since Grannie explained the unusual custom of swopping dosh for nosh, I kept my mush firmly out of other peoples plates and resisted temptation, and it is a scurrilous rumour to say my temperance is driven by being firmly tethered by my manky red harness to the table leg! My humans have their uses, especially when they are paying for yummy nosh ups.

I was hungry. Grannie was out and G.G.P had nothing tasty to snaffle out of his sandwich. I am not partial to peanut butter, marmite and apricot jam. Totally rank. So, you can imagine with a rumbling tum I was really looking forward to enjoying a nice pheasant in an apple and cider sauce, roast potatoes and honey glazed carrots and maybe a glass of Merlot to wash it all down. The hands on the clock ticked by. No knock at the door. I texted my boy, there was no reply. What was the matter, had something bad happened? I was worried. I was also very hungry so when Hamish failed to turn up, I took matters into my own paws and leaving G.G.P chomping happily on his skanky sandwich, trotted down the Lane to my boy’s house. I was fearing the worst (he had already eaten) and hoping for the best (my posh nosh up). A couple of raps, a few yaps. No answer. A couple of bangs, a lot of barks and Hamish eventually opened the door.

He stood there all mean and moody looking. He glowered at me and I was confused as to why I got ‘picture and no sound’, why was I meriting the silent treatment? Hmm, maybe he had a sore throat and lost his bark? That illusion was soon shattered when I went to rub noses and he pulled his head away and stuck his nose in the air.

Then to add insult to injury, my arch-rival Kimbles that manky Bichon Frise came strutting along the road, wriggling her tush and Hamish only gave her a wolf whistle. Was I miffed? Yes, I was miffed. You would be miffed. Any girl would be miffed. He should only have eyes for me! And she looked minging with that silky pink bow in her freshly curled fur, matching her claws coated in rose coloured nail polish with a sprinkling of rainbow glitter. Eww…some girls try so hard. Some girls should not bother ‘cos they are just too manky. Just sayin’ Kimbles!

‘Oi Angeeee,’ she shrieked with her rotten squeaky bark splitting the air, ‘Wot you bin up to? I ‘ere you bin a bit naughty, again!’

O’er, a crimson blush spread across my snow white cheeks. Not that I had anything to hide you understand. My conscience was as clear as The North Sea.

‘My name is Angel, not Angeee,’ I haughtily replied, choosing to ignore her scurrilous statement.

‘Hahaha!’ she clutched her sides laughing, ‘Well is that sooo? Ain’t that a right ole mizznommmer then! Tee hee-hee, wot I ‘ere is that you bin a right little devil wiv the boys! You ain’t no Angel, you is a sinner!’

Oh, my cheeks were flaming an unflattering shade of red and Hamish had gone a funny shade of puce. It was not a good look, for either of us.

‘My name is not a misnomer, for your information I am the personification of Angelic innocence!’ I snarled at her, and showed her my teeth, hoping she would back off and Er, shut up. I am all for free speech as long as it doesn’t involve spilling my secrets! My temper was beginning to go at this point. I could see my much anticipated dinner slipping away into just a hopeful daydream, thanks to that manky Bichon and her big gob.

‘That’s not wot I fink and it ain’t wot I ‘eard. I ‘eard from people wot no, mentioning no names, Angeee, but it woz straight from the ‘orses mouth wasn’t it, Angeee. Some dogs just can’t hold their drink! And lots of peeps round ‘ere have seen ya! Go on deny you went on a date wiv Teddy Hot Paws, he’s such a dapper dog, ain’t he?!’ She screeched with satisfaction.

Kimbles models herself on two iconic beauties, Marilyn Monroe and Moi. She fails miserably at both…Grrr…I have occasionally hung out with her and can report she has no class. Ohh I shouldn’t had let her persuade me have that fifth glass of Prosecco. And she promised not to breathe a word about Teddy…and those other boys…Er, not that there is anything to tell, you understand. To add insult to injury, as Hamish stood there glaring daggers at me, she took unbelievable liberties and only asked my B.F out!’ Has she no shame? Purely rhetorical question, as of course she doesn’t!

‘Oi Hamish, seeing Angeee is occupied elsewhere steppin’ out and about wiv ole Hot Paws, if you are hot to trot, me old mate, I’m your gal, so text me and I can show ya me latest modelling pix for Nero dog food!’

‘Yeees, I heard she was occupied elsewhere too, Kimbles, so I dunno why she is around here bothering me! Oh and I have saw such how delightful you look in the Nero ad campaign, I can’t think of any other girl gorgeous enough to do what you do Kimbles!’ he gave me a withering look.

‘Ohhh, fanks me ole mate and I ‘opes I ain’t bovering ya and ya fancy that date wiv a famous model like meself instead!’ Ohhh the brazen biatch!!!

‘Now you mention it Kimbles, I do have dinner reservations at the Plump Partridge that are going to go to waste. The food is delicious there, I had planned on sharing very generously with some charming female company.’ He gave me even more evils and a glare that would freeze hell , then turned and gave manky Kimbles a 100 watt smile that would totally melt an iceberg.

‘Don’t believe her! Hamish please,’ I implored, reluctant to give up that Pheasant dinner just yet. But Kimbles was not about to give up either, she was a total dog with a bone and she viciously played her ace and went in for the kill. ‘I ‘ear that Teddy’s not the only one. You are sooo generous sharing your G.F, Hamish! I hear she’s not an exclusive kinda gal wiv any of her B.F’s, are ya Angeee?’ she smiled sweetly and winked at Moi! I was actually speechless. Who knew? I had been so careful!

‘Is she really not exclusive, Kimbles? Then maybe I won’t be either, unless you want to come in and explain it all to me, Angel!’ said Hamish fixing me with another of those arctic stares.

O’er, I was not happy at the thought of being on the receiving end of his interrogation. Picture and sound was infinitely preferable to ‘fessing up. Not that you understand, there was anything to ‘fess up, well not too much…But discretion being the better part of valour was becoming a very attractive option and I started to retreat back down the path Kimbles had been spitefully leading me up.

‘Do you want to tell me all about it, Angel?’ asked Hamish persisting most unreasonably.

‘Er nooooo…’ I barely managed a whisper. I mean, My Lovelies, don’t you agree there is a code between us girls that what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas and here was whistle blower Kimbles…

‘Kimbles, you are looking really hungry. Shame to waste my dinner reservation so I’m just off to the Pub for a delicious bite to eat, do you fancy coming along too. My treat, a nice guaranteed steak dinner for you, and ice cream to follow, Gorgeous nosh up, just like you, my dear.’

‘Oh yeah! please Hamish, sounds a well tasty dish, Hamish, heh heh, just like you, Hamish. Throw in a glass of Cider or six or seven, Hamish and it’s defo a date, Hamish!’ She simpered his name all breathlessly.

OMG I could not believe it. My B.F flirting with my Frenemy Kimbles? It was too much. I was so stunned. I ran all the way home, with my tail between my legs….

Does Angel really let that biatch Kimbles get away with nabbing her posh nosh up and her premier B.F Hamish???

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All is revealed in further candid confessions as Angel invites you to join her for “Shh…Secret Sharing Sessions” in her trilogy of Tail Telling!cropped-cropped-b-w-paws3.jpg

*AVAILABLE ON AMAZON*

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And the BAFTA goes to…

 

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Beautilicious and Fantabulous Terrier ANGEL… …even if she does say so herself, and she does!!! Woof Woof ;)

Whilst fictional Angel has been busy channelling Marilyn, real life Angel has been hanging out in her puppy play pen as she recovers from her big operation. The little girl is doing well and scoffing a lot of yummies Grannie has been cooking in the cauldron :)

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Do Angels have Paws?

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BEAUTILICIOUS BABY

Regular visitors to my blog will have met  my beautilicious little Westie, Angel. The little girl is almost 8 human years old, in doggy terms she is fast catching me, her ancient old Grannie, up! She is a Leo. I am not. You can work out just who the boss is in our relationship ;) She is small, smart, sassy, and an incorrigible flirt with the boys. Angel loves food, especially if it is mine. If I don’t watch her, she has been known to dip into my wine glass too. Chardonnay is her favourite ;) Her fictional antics in our book (yes, she is an author too!) are very much based on her real life persona. Despite her quite incorrigible diva dog ways  she is  just the cutest, most loving little dog and she has wrapped us around her delectable paws and it goes without saying that we totally and absolutely love our little girl.

Blogging and writing have been very much on the back burner lately. My mind just hasn’t been able to wander down creative avenues. I am feeling a great deal of worry. Angel has to have an operation on Thursday, something called a ‘Tibial Plateau Levelling Osteotomy’ for a ruptured ligament in her back leg.  Oh and her Veterinarian has also mentioned she has a heart murmur…My own heart has been aching. The thought of her undergoing a big operation and being in pain is almost too much to bear, if I could take this from her, I would, but there is no choice it has to be done to prevent further damage and pain. The recovery time for her leg surgery involves 8 weeks confinement. We have bought the biggest Puppy Play Pen and my dear son Ryan has decorated it with fluffy blankets, cushions, toys and  all her teddies. He has also added fairy lights. It is amazing and Angel has spent all week happily hanging out in her new den.

BEDDY BYES FOR LITTLE GIRLS

Throughout the last seven years she has brought so much to our family. How she came to us is a very special story of the Angels working their Divine magic. Back then my beautiful grown up daughter, Jennifer, was a little girl. She developed a total fear of dogs. We live in a beautiful quiet place with countryside on the doorstep. There are lots and lots and LOTS of dogs! My darling girl’s fear of dogs just grew out of nowhere. We couldn’t walk down the hill to school without meeting one. We couldn’t enjoy breaks in our much loved Glastonbury because of the fear of encountering a dog. Dogs were everywhere and it was getting to the point that the sheer  fear of them was severely impacting all our lives. My husband had been very much against getting a family dog. (I had two much loved West Highland White Terriers many years before and would have adored the chance to love another one, but it was  not something that was going to happen…or so I thought…)

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ANGEL’S BEAUTIFUL MUMMY, JENNIFER

One night I had a dream in which the Angels clearly and lovingly told me that if we were to get a dog it would open our lovely daughter’s heart to love and the fear would be banished forever. I told my husband, who miraculously agreed. We asked Jennifer if she would like a puppy of her very own. Again, miraculously, she said YES. We researched all types of dogs and Jennifer decided she wanted a WESTIE!

Thank you Angels! I believe with all my heart that God sends pets into our lives to show us how to share unconditional love, loyalty, fun and friendship.

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Angel and her ‘ little Daddy’ Ryan

Angel  came into our family, just four months old. A tiny puppy who rapidly left her paw prints all over our hearts. Her beautiful human ‘Mummy’ Jennifer gave her new puppy her name (which turned out to be a total misnomer!) totally loved and adored her tiny baby girl and all fear of dogs rapidly dissipated, and Ryan our lovely boy totally embraced training and caring for our little bundle of Fur-ever love. Hubby and I became GrandPa and Grannie to our little pawsome Angel and have had so much fun becoming part of her pack :)

I write books and Angel took me down new avenues, inspiring the children’s books Poppy Paws and Patch, and Poppy Paws written with the help of Ryan, in which we addressed the issues of fear and the healing power of love, and also the crazy and chaotic canine fun and riotious romps  that unfolds in our chick lit books Telling Tails, Angel in the City and Angel Cake….Not bad for a little girl less than a foot tall! Our girl may be small in stature but huge in heart. She is our Pawsome Angel :)

I went to Church to pray today. My prayers, both in our lovely church and at bed time, are usually for all the challenging situations, heartache and sorrow that beset those I love, those I know and those whose sad stories unfold on our news channels. I added my baby girl Angel and trust the Lord heard my prayers, as he has always done.

We would be hugely grateful for healing thoughts to be sent Angel’s way.

 ♥ Bless you, thank you ♥

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Angel all grown up

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Grannie…Do Something!!!

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…She had just served me up my Mimosa, nicely chilled, with a plate of yummy brie and cranberry bruschetta, when the phone rang. I overheard Grannie telling Grumpy GrandPa some utter tosh that she was ‘inscrutable’ and that mystery and imagination added to romance….Eww…I nearly choked on my Mimosa. Romance??? Grotty Grannie??? G.G.P??? Er…No!!!

Intrigued, I put my ear to the door and  listened to their hands free conversation some more. Seems they were having a transatlantic telephonic communication as Grannie refused to Skype. Seems he wanted to know just what she was hiding from him and just why she did not want to take a peek at how lush and lovely his Lobelia was looking, delicate and dainty, spread all over the garden back home in England’s green and pleasant land.

Hmm… it was all too confusing. What was Grannie hiding? Just who was this Lobelia? Why was she laying on our lawn…had she, like Grannie, quaffed one or ten Gordon & tonics too many? And just why would G.G.P want to introduce his drunken floozy to Grannie???

These questions needed answered. So once he had finished chatting to Grannie and purely on the pretext of showing my GrandPa the view of Central Park from our 53rd Floor Manhattan Penthouse I grabbed my iPad and face-timed him.

‘Angel, what’s all this utter tosh and rot about Grannie being  mysteriously inscrutable?’ he demanded most demandingly.

‘Dunno, G.G.P,’ says me helpfully, zooming the iPad’s camera full on to Grannie, mush coated in a mud pack and sitting picking her toe nails. After all her manky picture painted a thousand words far more eloquently than Moi, even with my superior literary skills,  could have done…

‘Gumpfffphhh!’ was all G.G.P managed to say before splattering his tea all over his iPhone screen, at that point I only had sound and no picture from him. I was worried and screamed for  Grannie…

‘O’er…Grannie, Grannie!!! please come quick it’s an emergency!!! G.G.P is suffering from revulsion and is like chokin’ and his girl friend is flat on her face, drunk as a skunk in our garden, and is totally incapacitated and incapable of calling an ambulance…Grannie…Do Something!!!’

:) FOR MORE OF  ANGEL’S DELECTABLE DELIGHTS :)

WHY NOT GO WALKIES OVER TO AMAZON

FOR MORE MISCHIEF AND MAYHEM CAUSED BY “THE PAWS”  

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Telling Tails

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Author Angel Nash worn to the Paws watching Grannie hard at work!

Hello my Lovelies!

I am visiting Grannie’s blog from my Manhattan Penthouse and putting my well manicured paws to good use and blogging for her, whilst she is otherwise engaged and not watching what I am up to.  I am more than miffed she has been selfishly blogging about her books and  not my books, can you believe her cheek!!!

‘Where is Grannie? What is she doing? Shame on her! What on earth could be more important than looking after you, Angel?’ You may solicitously enquire, and I shall tell you, my Lovelies.

But, Shh…it is a secret!

Grannie is busy with a matter of the  most mega urgency and import. Can you hear her click clacking away on her battered old typewriter?  I have banned her from blogging and anything else (like sleeping and eating) that does not involve her catering to my little “want, need, nows!” until she finishes the manuscript for my third book- ANGEL CAKE -Look out for the big reveal!!! 

I am soooo excited about my latest book, just as much as when my paws were on creative fire and I penned my very first  Magnum Opus and introduced myself to an unsuspecting world in:-

 “Telling Tails” 

Beautiliious Westie Angel Nash has aspirations of the good life. When Grannie upsets the little Diva dog she takes matters into her own paws and becomes the first canine like ever to become a real, published author! All Angel’s shenanigans are revealed as she candidly shares how she went walkies from a quiet village in England’s Green and Pleasant Lands all the way across a very big pond to N.Y.C.

Angel’s “Shh…Secret Sharing Sessions” are a riotous romp of Mischief, Mayhem, Moan-fests and Musing on hugely important matters, namely Herself!

AVAILABLE AS A PAPERBACK OR KINDLE EBOOK

*CLICK HERE FOR AMAZON AND A VERY SPECIAL KINDLE PRICE*

Why Helloooo My Lovelies,Beautilicious Westie Angel Nash in the house, with doggilicious tales to tell. A rollercoaster of fun and frolics, chaos and canines. So jump on board and enjoy the ride. It's choc full of my top Secret Sharing Sessions about my crazy capers with Grottie Grannie, my True Love Hamish and B.F stealing Frenemy, Kimbles the Bichon Frise! All the gossip direct from modest Moi, 'The Paws'...Shhh...don't tell!© Eily Nash

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The Witching Hour…

Torn From The Heart

Torn from the HeartCruel heartbreaker, Adam takes no prisoners in ‘Affaires de Coeur’. Fate takes a hand in his bad boy ways one dark, stormy night when Adam finds himself at the mercy of a vicious storm. Lost and afraid on a treacherous Moor, crying out for help, in the middle of nowhere, will anyone hear his pitiful plea? Chancing upon mysterious ‘Half Moon Inn’ and beguiling inn-keeper Evelyn Blackmore, could his prayers have been heard? The raven-eyed beauty offers more than sanctuary. Through the hours of darkness, Adam’s fey companion spins fireside tales of love, loss, rejection, and redemption. Gradually he realises the ethereal Evelyn knows him all too well as she rips her preternatural tales from the recesses of his black heart. Evelyn weaves the unravelled threads of his deepest secrets onto the loom of his life, as Adam secretly plots scenes of soft seduction. Will Evelyn fall prey to her guest’s dark charms and be enticed into his web of deceit? Unbeknownst to him, the enigmatic beauty also has secrets and as the Witching hour fast approaches, so do uninvited and hungry ghosts of the past.

With more than a touch of magic in the air the Hunter just might find he has become the hunted…

Available as Kindle ebook and paperback 

*CLICK HERE FOR AMAZON*

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Requiem for a Lost Lover

 

“Come to me and be my wife, I will love you all my life! My love is pure, my love is true, all I have, I share with you. Come Beloved, bide with me, in perfect trust and harmony!”

 He once whispered those words of love to me. Our vows were sacred for all eternity. Alas, promises my beloved could not keep. Oh how my wounded heart did bleed and weep. You may well ask why did I not have eyes to see through his lies and mendacity? What was my crime or my sin? Why did He let the Stranger in? His words were callous, cruel and cold. It was not my fault jealousy took hold!

“I Loved you once, that much is true, until her beauty stole my heart from you. She is comely, my lover is fair, with eyes of blue and flaxen hair. Whilst you grew ragged, grey and old. ‘Tis your fault my Love grew cold!”

My tears they fell like bitter rain. Illusions shattered, piercing pain. In the winter of my heart, I vowed from her he would part. I grabbed a knife and plunged it deep, his life blood ebbed to eternal sleep. So now beneath the pure white snow, in the rich dark Earth deep below, lay two silver caskets filled with bones. By our silent grave, my ghost atones. Encased in ice, two hearts entwine. In Death’s embrace my Love is once more mine. In Death’s embrace my Love is forever mine. By my side eternally lays his head, even though he is long cold and dead.

 

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© Eily Nash

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Portobello Princess ♥

♥ ☆ ♥ For you Princess ♥ ☆ ♥All my Love Mummy ♥ ☆ ♥

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All is One ♥

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There once was a young peasant girl, known by the name Gaia, she lived in an ancient land, a land that was fertile and abundant in all good things. There were olive groves and fruit trees. There were honey bees and goats and cows that provided delicious milk and cheese. The skies above were azure blue and the seas around were warm and abundant with rainbow fish. The air was sweet with the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle. The birds filled the air with sweet birdsong. Life was good in this land of milk and honey, for everything one needed was there. Gaia lived with a large community of people and laughter and song and dance was the way of life. For they knew life was good and they knew that they were beloved and taken care off, although they knew not by who or what. This security engendered much peace and happiness, and they lived in gratitude. Their Land was an abundant Mother and the skies above their protecting Father. And as Night followed day, and season followed season, the people of this land gave praise for the bounty that was their gift from the Earth.

They honored their Mother Earth for all she nourished them with, her fertile soil in which many crops and flowers and herbs and trees thrived. Her flowing rivers and the sea around, providing an abundance of fresh fish and water to drink. And the jewels of the earth, beautiful crystals fashioned in colours of the rainbow. Their father provided his children with the radiant warmth of the sun, to bring life to that which was upon the earth. He gave them the cool evening breeze and the light of the moon, from which the people marked the passage of time, through the cycles of the moon. As night fell, the skies above were clothed in a brilliant show of stars and planets, and constellations around which they wove stories to inflame their minds and provide excitement. Every now and then, a magical light dance would happen in the sky, a multi coloured display of fantastic and beautiful majesty. Shooting stars and asteroids tore across the heavenly canvas bringing wonder and awe. Life was indeed good. This island, although small, was clothed and blessed in the majesty of nature, and profuse in all that was good in creation. The peoples were tolerant of travellers who chanced their way. They provided hospitality and warm welcomes. They enjoyed hearing about faraway places, of different lands, cultures and religions. They did not feel threatened if the visitors did not have the same belief systems, knowing in their hearts that all was one and that there were many roads and paths to reach Divinity. It was an intangible thing that each and every heart had to feel for their selves. In this place there was no bigotry or intolerance.

One day, Gaia was out gathering herbs, for these were the medicine cabinet of the people, as Mother Earth (after whom she took her name) supported all life, she healed her children when called upon. The herbs rejoiced the child had chosen them, for they knew their path was to grow to heal, and they understood that all was one and that the child also knew that all was one.

A beautiful butterfly caught the girl’s eye and with delight she followed after the delicate creature, marveling at Gossamer wings as blue as the sky above. The girl felt good to be alive and part of all the wonders of nature around her, for although yet a child; she understood the interconnectedness of all things, that simply all was one. Gaia focused on the butterfly’s game of chase, and the creature delighted in this lovely child joining the game. The butterfly knew the child understood that all was one. In time this child would undertake the journey of initiation, such as she the butterfly had done, into the cocoon and transmuting into a thing of great beauty.

Gaia was unaware of the storm clouds gathering, very unusual in this land. Then suddenly there was a downpour of rain. Looking around for shelter she saw ahead the entrance to a cave formed in a rocky hillside. Gratefully she ran into the cave, blessing her good fortune to find shelter from the ensuing storm. The cave was dark and smelt dank. A rough path was hewn from the bedrock, and from deep inside she heard a strange resonance, a toning of sorts. Intrigued she followed the source of the noise, as she moved deeper into the cave the darkness enfolded her. Trustingly, she followed the direction of the strange toning and chanting of unknown arcane words.

The darkness shifted to an eerie gloom, and Gaia saw the passage had widened into a cavern with a sandy floor. She heard the faint sound of running water. Above the cavern there was a light source, a hole in the roof of the cavern. From behind a large boulder a voice crackled;-

‘Who are you, what do you seek?’

The voice belonged to a tiny, misshapen form. A woman clothed in dirty ragged garments. They had the vestiges of a once beautiful blue material, patterned with stars about them. Even in the gloom the girl marvelled at the fragments of beautiful cloth. The woman’s hair was grey and bound tight to her head in thin plaits, and her eyes were small and black as shriveled raisins. With sly interest she regarded the girl before her, dressed in a simple tunic of beautiful linen, her hair long and golden and flowing, her eyes a deep cornflower blue, alive and dancing with curiosity.

‘I have lost my way, and have taken shelter from the rain outside’ said Gaia. ‘They call me Gaia in honor of the Great Mother, the Earth,’ the child smiled happily.

‘Pah.’ Came back the rude, curt response from the wizened old crone..

‘What should I call you?’ enquired Gaia politely.

‘I am Alizza the Watcher, but you may not address me so. You have not the knowledge or status to speak the name of one as elevated and spiritually advanced as I!’

‘May I sit with you a while, and listening to your teaching, Mother? The child asked unperturbed by Alizza’s hubris.

‘You would know of my wisdom? I am happy to tell you child the ways of the world. Come sit by my side at the fire and pay heed.’ She rasped with a degree of satisfaction.

There was a fire pit set within a circle of small rocks, and from it the flames danced and swayed as a slight breeze played around them. Gaia stared intently at the fire, enjoying the pictures in the flames, and the sight of the Salamanders,those elementals charged with guarding the element of fire, and they in return regarded the child and knew she was one who understood them, and all things and that all was one.

The ugly Crone was impatient to begin her teaching and coughed harshly. In a voice that was deeply meaningful in tone, she began.

‘These, child, are words of wisdom given to me by Masters, and only those who are as spiritually advanced as I am can access the Wisdom of the Masters. For I am a Watcher, and follow the Path of the Star. Heed ye well!’ She jabbed a bony finger with a cracked and dirty nail at the girl, for emphasis.

The child smiled, continuing to watch the magical show the salamanders were putting on for her delight.

‘The purpose of creation, child, is to leave this place and ascend upwards to the Star. I, who have followed my spiritual path so diligently, by toning my tones and chanting my chants, will soon be able to leave.’ she said piously.

‘Do you not marvel at how advanced am I to be able to do such a thing? Do you not aspire to be as pure in spirit as me?’ she questioned.

‘Hmm’ mused the child ‘Are you alone here?’

‘Alone? What, with my incredible spirituality? I do not need mere mortals in my holy Presence. I need to remain unblemished and untouched from their germs. That is why I wait in the cave till I can leave heavenwards. I know I will not return here for I am just so advanced. The Star needs me with its celestial magnificence to watch over the minions below.’

‘Do you never see other people?’ enquired Gaia.

‘Ah, No’, said the wizened old Crone. ‘Once there were some who came to seek my teaching. I saw they were lesser creatures and just did not and could not understand. So I realised to keep myself pure in spirit I had to retreat deeper and deeper into this cave, where they could not taint me with their base natures.’

‘I would love to hear your wisdom,’ said the child.

She was a child who loved to experience all things and learn the different ways of people, understanding there were many different types of person and they each could choose different paths to travel up the mountain to touch Father Sky. And again the child understood that in all this diversity, ultimately all was one, for each in their own way would eventually touch Father Sky, whatever path they had chosen to walk.

The ugly Crone continued…

‘The path of the Star showed me that by prayer and devotion I can leave this place and be one with the Light.’

‘Where does the Star reside?’

‘Why up there’ the Crone pointed to the hole in the roof of the cave.

‘What does the Star look like?’

‘Like this’ and she pointed to a fragment of starry material.

‘Can anyone see the Star?’

‘Oh, No, Only one who is willing to follow the path of religious observance. A Practitioner such as I, versed in knowledge of The path of the Star.’

By now, the storm outside had passed, and night had fallen. Everything was quiet and still. The ugly Crone bid the curious, chattering child be silent.

‘It is time for devotion; my star is calling to me. You may observe, but be quiet as I, an illumined one, will commune with the Holiest Highest Star.’

The child looked on, wondering what marvels the Crone would commune with. Alizza went and sat on a boulder under the hole in the roof, a thin taper in her knotty hand. She looked up and began the low chanting and toning noise again. Slowly a picture of rapture appeared over her ancient face, as her gaze went towards the hole in the cave roof. Intrigued, Gaia too looked up, and was perplexed to see a tiny star, which she recognised as Antares, a bright star that guides one to see the constellation Scorpio. Gaia knew the night sky well, for oft times she had slept under that heavenly canopy, watching the majesty of the waxing and waning moon, and the beauty of the constellations and the stories they told. She knew the magic of seeing shooting stars and comets blazing their trails across the universe.

Yes, there were so many wonders in creation, and once again Gaia smiled understanding that One was All and All was One; and that the magic of the sky was a magic that was in her and everything else as well. So it was with interest she regarded the Crone, lost in her rapture at the sight of Antares above the cathedral like structure of the cave’s roof.

Eventually sleep fell upon Gaia and she curled close to the fire and slept deeply. The child was content, dreaming of the many layers of creation and existence, dreaming of universes held within atoms and universes so large her mind could not hold the thoughts. A raindrop on her nose startled her to wakefulness. The Crone was bustling around making a brew from hot water and some lichen she had scraped from the walls of the cave. The insipid brew bubbled in an earthenware pot, placed precariously on some burning twigs. She invited the child near.

‘You looked so happy watching Antares’ offered Gaia to the busy old woman.

The Crone looked puzzled by the question. She clearly had no idea what, where or who ‘Antares’ was.

‘Child, I was in Rapture communing directly with the Star of the sky. I have sat in my cave for decades meditating on the nature of divinity, and I am truly blessed to have seen this wondrous sight. I know that because of my advanced spiritual understanding one day soon I will ascend and join Star! Pay heed to my teaching child; ask what questions you need to further your own limited understanding. Who knows, maybe one day you too will understand the advanced teaching of the Star!’

This time it was Gaia’s turn to look puzzled…

Tentatively she asked, ‘Mother Crone, why do you work so hard to reach Star, for is not Star in you and you in Star, for Mother Crone is not one all?’ she continued with enthusiasm and passion, ‘Does it not feel oh so good to travel on the wind as it blows through life? To feel the whisper of the gentle breeze that cools the skin? Or a raging, howling hurricane that sweeps away that which no longer serves? Knowing the wind is the Divine’.

Smiling happily Gaia chattered on excited to be sharing ‘…and the joys of letting your spirit become one with the Condor. Soaring heavenwards and riding upon the wind, majestic and powerful, magnificent wings outstretched and all at one with the wind, on our journey across the vastness of the sky.’ The  child continued to share the excitement of her experiences. ‘To fall as a drop of rain, blown by the wind into the fast flowing river and feel what it is like to flow over the smooth rocks; and be tickled by the bulrushes, to move as one towards the vast ocean and just know that every raindrop is part of the vastness of the mighty ocean….’Smiling happily, the child continued,‘….and Mother Crone, that which brings me the most joy is when I become one with the beautiful trees and feel myself strong and solid upon the Earth. I love the feeling of my roots burrowing deep into the rich warm soil. I love the feeling of the goodness within the Earth sustaining me, feeding me. My branches reach towards the heavens, and I sustain life, for the birds and insects to come to find shelter above me and below me; as they eat the food I give from my berries. And my leaves glisten in the warmth of the sun, and cool to the stars above. Oh, to be a tree is truly magical Mother for then one is completely one with Mother Earth and Father Sky!’

Gaia’s eyes shone with happiness as she relived her shamanic journeys, she did not see the disgust and distaste on the old woman’s wizened face…The acrid smell of the Crones infusion filled the cave. Helpfully, Gaia reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out the little bunch of sweet smelling herbs she had gathered. Gently she added them to the pot and said a little blessing. The bitter smell was soon replaced by the pure and healing scents the herbs released.

‘Oh, that is so good Mother Crone; will you drink from our brew?’ Gaia tenderly asked.

She saw the Cones eyes were weepy, and her body was stiff and rigid from rheumatism. Gaia knew the herbs would help and heal. Nature’s apothecary had a cure for every ailment. One just needed to go to the trees, the flowers, herbs and crystals for their assistance.

With a howl, the Crone arose and with her temper boiling over, she kicked the earthenware pot hard. The hot contents spilled over and splashed onto the skinny legs of the incandescent Crone. Her ugly face contorted in rage as she screamed at Gaia:-

‘What witchery! What wicked sorcery! What foul blasphemy! You dark thing, you dare come into my world and speak such nonsense! Be gone bad thing! Thou have no knowledge! How could I, an illumined one, teach you whose head is so full of nonsense….all is not one foolish child, the star is all there is…now go!’

In absolute shock, and with tears streaming down her face, the child turned and ran through the darkness of the cave. She barely knew how she reached the outside. She sat with her arms wrapped protectively around herself, sobbing at the Crones cruelty. Could she have got it so wrong, after all she knew she was a child with so much to learn. But those people, who were her own, understood; wracked with longing for home she began to weep again.

Slowly, she became aware of a presence, and a warm feeling enfolded her. Raising her tear stained face. Gaia realised the Sun was shining brightly and the rain had bathed the world with cleansing water and everything looked so fresh and new. A multi-coloured rainbow arched across the azure sky. The birds were singing their sweet songs and the insects were busy humming and the honey bees buzzing and so much life was all about. A little white feather fell from the clear blue sky into Gaia’s hand, and above she saw a white dove in flight. Smiling, Gaia rose and turned for home for the child just knew all was one….

Later that night, deep in the cave, as the Crone settled down for her devotion to the Star, she was amazed to see a bright light streak past the narrow opening in the cave roof and as the comet passed by she heard the child’s wise words as they echoed in her empty heart and cave…

© Eily Nash ~ from ‘Torn from the Heart’

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Lonely Loom

Deep within the darkest heart of Night

Dance slender beams of soft MoonLight

Penetrating through the dank and gloom

Falling upon a forbidding Castle Tower

Where sits a lovely Lady in her Bower

Lost in time, she works  her lonely Loom

A tide of tears falling upon ethereal hands

Entwined around enchanted, silken strands.

The Lady of Shalott Looking at Lancelot, 1894 - John William Waterhouse

The Lady of Shalott Looking at Lancelot, 1894 – John William Waterhouse

Taking numinous threads of silver and gold

A story of a  Knight’s chivalrous deeds unfolds

With armour, steel and steed, he rode to war

Forsaking his Lady Love on Sceptred shores.

Blithely breaking his promise of a Wedding band

       For the glory of King’s Crusades in a foreign Land

Her beloved sailed righteously across the seas

Enemy and Gallantry brought him to his knees.

For the Templar’s cause the Knight gave his life

Forfeiting his vow to make the Lady his wife

Falling on faraway fields, his life blood ebbed.

Love lives on, though her Knight is long dead.

Eons of time encroach on the shadows and gloom

Awaiting her Lover’s return, she sits by her  loom

Lingering midst rot and decay, still she trusts

Love eternal will raise him from ashes and dust.

Perchance, your steps  take you through the ruined walls of the Castle Keep, By pale moon light and night’s embrace, you may yet hear the Lady Weep.

© Eily Nash

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Benediction of the Trees

tree

I took this one Summer’s day on Paradise Lane, Glastonbury, after paying my  respects to the magical Oaks, Gog & Magog ,who live in the field opposite this beauty. The story is from my book ‘Wychwood~Winter’s Child’.

Ellis was aware the sun was hanging low in the sky and would be setting shortly. She would need to make haste to avoid the impending gloom that would descend over the woods once the golden Orb had disappeared into the horizon. As the overgrown path meandered downhill, she kept her gaze fixed upon where she was going, so as to avoid stumbling on loose pebbles. A glint of light caught the corner of her eye. Stopping in her tracks she became aware of a perfect circle of chestnut trees in a little glade. Their branches slowly swaying and leaves quivering and dancing in rhythm to the music of the breeze. Golden Sun light twinkled upon verdant leaves and dappled over the deep brown nuts that littered the forest glade, cracked open from their protective casings. An invitation hung on the air.

Gently stepping over the fallen nuts, Ellis stepped within the circle of trees, noting by the girth of their trunks and the strength of the long outstretched branches, that these were indeed Grand Dames of the woodland. Very old and very wise, gnarled and knotted yet strong proud and beautiful. Their outstretched limbs intertwining and interconnecting with each other, embracing each other in an intricate lattice-work of wood, which seemed to grow tighter and more close-knit as Ellis moved towards their centre.

’Ah the circle is cast!’ she thought.

And within their protective conclave she became aware of a quiet communication,the whispers of the wind danced between each sister tree. With a jolt she realised that the trees were speaking not only to each other, but also to her! They were imbuing her with a sense of themselves, of what it felt like to have roots that sank deep down into the verdant rich dark soil, their root systems mirroring the branches above, all interconnected and intertwined. Ellis felt a tingle in the soles of her feet and with a start realised that she had sunk ankle-deep into the earth. She did not feel any fear, just an awareness that her toes, bones,nervous system and veins seemed to be growing and extending beyond the confines of her flesh. She was growing roots. Roots that meandered through the earth, touching, connecting, wrapping around those of the trees that surrounded her, and it felt good. Ellis raised her arms up high in sheer joy, and once again felt the tingle, and her fingers seemed to elongate, the flesh, veins, bones, nervous systems stretching, stretching up to the tall branches, connecting into those of her sisters around her. For Ellis now felt at one in the circle of the Horse Chestnut sisters.Above her upturned face, the sun in a final swan song burst through the density of the leaves, bathing Ellis in a golden light. It felt so good to pull the light of the sun into her body. She felt it travel through her limbs and trunk, and then as the sun sank on the horizon she became aware that all was momentarily dark. From the deep blackness of this void a light began to appear, whirling before her eyes. The motion slowed to a standstill, and a perfect golden hexagon had formed. Within the six golden points of the star was a silver tree, branches perfectly aligned with the upper points of the star, and root system stretched out in symmetry over the lower points of the star. A blinding flash of light exploded in the centre of her head as the symbol was absorbed through her crown chakra into the very core of her Being. With the words ‘As Above, So Below’ reverberating around the cavern of her mind she knew, in that moment, the cosmic synergy of heaven and Earth. She fully understood the importance of trees, fully sentient beings, working in Divine Service of Source upon the Earth.

Darkness closed in on her.

Stirred to her to her senses by the loud chittering of excited birds, Ellis was surprised to see the Sun rising. She found herself lying curled up on a carpet of springy moss and sweet-smelling chamomile, under the protection of one of the huge Chestnut trees. Stirring to remember how she had come to be here, a whirl of thoughts flooded her mind and senses. Had it been a dream? Feelings of being one with the trees, of having roots that stretched deep down into Gaia’s warmth and received sustenance and grounding; of having strong branches that stretched heavenwards, and feeling the warmth of the sun as it brought life-giving energy down through her body? She recalled the feelings of pleasure of having beautiful leaves, and bearing flowers and fruit that in turn delighted and nourished. She smiled remembering the shelter she gave to the birds of the air and the insects and creatures of the forest and pleasure of wood nymphs coming to dance and play. Most of all, being of service to the Source above and beloved Mother Gaia below.

As Ellis stood and stretched, she noticed a young sapling by the strongest and oldest tree. From one of it’s tender young branches a glint caught her eye. Stretching out her hand, she felt a familiar tingle and there in her palm lay a pendant, formed from a gold six pointed star, on which the form of a tree was wrought in silver.

And the young tree seemed to whisper on the wind, ‘My gift to you, my Mother…’

As above , So below.

✮✮✮

© Eily Nash

Posted in AUTHOR, FICTION & POETRY, LONGREADS, PARANORMAL FICTION, SPIRITUALITY, Uncategorized, WRITING & BLOGGING | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Dandelion Dreams

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Sweet Dandelion

Do you wait patiently for me

To come along and set you free

I’ve heard plenty an aged tale told

of the dreams a Dandelion holds.

Is that so little wishing flower?

Do you have such magic power?

 I give you my dreams , fly free,

Bring my true love back to me!

Scatter through the fields and trees

Soft starburst on the gentle breeze

Treasured seed falls to Mother Earth

Within each one the promise of rebirth

…And so the dance of life goes on…

© Eily Nash
I took this photo of the  beautiful littleDandelions  on a perfect Summer day
in a lush field in Glastonbury, on the Sacred Isle of Avalon.
The words of the little poem were inspired by a place I love so much….
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The Veil

THE VEIL

At the Twilight of the day

When the sun has died away

I dream of you standing there

Fading light upon your hair…

I am reaching for your hands

Across time’s shifting sands

Beloved, come to me, I implore

Entwine our Souls for evermore

Do I yearn for you in vain?

Do you not suffer as I do?

Hear me cry, feel my pain!

My aching Soul calls to you!

At the dying of the light

And the coming of the night

Like the ebb tide of the sea

You are fading far from me…

Alas our Love cannot prevail

From this place beyond the Veil

Adieu, Beloved, I go in Grace

Returning to Death’s dark embrace

 © Eily Nash

DSC01597

A Cypriot Sun set across Chrysochou Bay from the shores of Argaka

Posted in DEATH, GOSSAMER THREADS, MYTH, POETRY, SPIRITUALITY, Uncategorized, WRITING & BLOGGING | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments