Poem as Postscript to “What is Creativity?”

You may have read today’s earlier post, including a copy of my response to the above question posed by Talent Flush. I then felt the urge to post at least one poem that expresses my feelings about writing. This poem, Poetry, My Love, was originally published in 2005, in my book entitled, She of the Dreaming Sky, by Pearl’s Book ’em Publisher. However, two events caused the flame of this work to die down to a slow ember: One, the publisher was, at the time, changing direction in her efforts as both artist and inspiration. To whit: We sold about 35 copies, mostly to my mother and sister, plus a few friends. But whew, when I received that contract, oh… I cried. The fourteen-year-old inside me cried; a real publishing contract! At any rate, the other was the onset of my life-changing ms experience, which had been increasing its outward presence in me more and more by the time of publication. A few years later, my publisher graciously released me from the contract and returned all rights to me.

Therefore, I am pleased to present one poem that came from the inner depths of my ever-abiding love for poetry; in particular, the mystical experience of writing poetry:


She is Poetry
She is Truth
She is Love

Who else but Poetry leaves me
yearning at the page like a newly-kissed lover,
offering up my passionate pen
in return for her caress
behind my eyes
behind my lips
along my arms, my hands, my fingertips,
inside my heart?

Who else but Poetry entices me with the
language of ecstasy?
Who leads me into the liquid night of mystery?

She is Poetry
She is Truth
She is Love

She offers me a sky full of words
spilling out of a crystalline bowl,
drowning me in divine simplicity
until I become just a speck of light myself,
floating in the vastness of her womb,
waiting to be born.

Lady Diane Randall
(C) 2013

From She of the Dreaming Sky, by Diane C. Randall
Originally published in 2005
by Pearl’s Book ’em Publisher

ISBN: 0-9740520-9-4
Library of Congress: 2005907841
All rights remanded to the author, 2008


What is Creativity? (My response to a question from Talent Flush)

I’m following Talent Flush now, a WP group that shares art of all kinds through all their pages and sites, if one so desires – which I do! I’m finding my creative spark becoming, once again, a flame of desire, yearning, passion… and it is infinitely more satisfying than any fleeting moments of relief or distraction I have ever encountered. I know that now more than ever. Creativity is in all of us; when it is repressed, whether by internal or external forces, life becomes dull, conversations inane, fears and hatred reign. That is why we desire it so strongly, those of us who do. It can be our religion, if you will; our salvation, our resurrection from merely surviving to enjoying our own lives to their fullest. 

With that in mind, I present my response to Talent Flush’s question: “What is Creativity?”


Creativity is our birthright. It is the aspect of the Creator that we are birthed from, that is alive in all sentient beings. However, it is we human beings (“…spiritual beings having a human experience,” Pierre Teilhard de Chardin), who carry the same purpose – indeed, the same yearning – to create worlds from our imaginations. Everything is creation: from inception, through incubation and nurturing, to life, and then to decay and, ultimately, resurrection in another form. Creativity provides us with the ability to create that which can never decay: language, thoughts, pictures, colors, memories, emotions… and so much more. The forms (substance) may decay, but these creations live forever. Just as God does, just as We do.

There are those of us who are fortunate enough to be born with the energy of creativity more potent, more alive, within our hearts; it is we who “re-member” this at some point in our lives, whether early or late. We are the ones for whom creativity is as important as breathing. Somewhere in our psyches we recognize our inner Beloved, which is our creative partner, our spark. Everyone is born as this created being, but most of the world is so caught up in fear, noise, and need for distraction, that creativity is unrecognized within; unexpressed without.

It is those of us who express our creativity who uplift, encourage, incite, inspire, and yes, heal; who hold up the mirror of Life and ask, “What do YOU see?” That is creativity at its Highest Purpose. We “spiritual beings” have a great desire to connect on a soul and heart level with the entire Universe. Our ultimate purpose, whether on a grand scale or in a personal moment, is to toss the pebble into the pond and, through its ever-widening ripples, remind others how beautiful Life, in all its forms, truly Is.

(c) 2013 Lady Diane Randall

The Bride (My Entry to The Modern Faye Magazine)

Hello, fellow bloggers, poets, butterfly watchers (just saw one come up to my window!), et al! I feel happy that I accomplished a short-term goal of submitting a poem to The Modern Faye Magazine’s Annual Poetry Contest. I was introduced to LaFaye Art Studios/The Modern Faye Magazine through…WordPress, of course! They “liked” one of my poems. This year’s theme or guideline was to write a poem corresponding to a piece of very fine artwork. Used to be, I could cook up a poem based on art, a tarot card, or even a leaf falling outside, with no problem. For some reason, this took a little more effort. Perhaps it’s because I don’t write new poetry as easily or as often as I used to (although NaPoWriMo in April jolted me out of my comfort zone!). Believe me, I miss the old days when I just had to write a new poem, a few scribbles – anything. But, I digress. Just feeling a little wistful, I guess. 

I do want to write about “editing” poetry. With this submission, I felt the need to edit, and I was right. Made some good changes. But that begs these questions: Am I editing my work, or merely changing it? Where is the stopping point for editing? There are no answers to these questions. They come upon us as we are writing. They come up again when we decide to post or publish.

I had a difficult time of it in April, because I do feel some editing, or at least a review of the material, can be very helpful, especially a few days’ post-draft. I edit as I type; I re-type, reformat, highlight and delete (or move!) stanzas.

In the end, it’s all subjective. Just like life. Everyone’s perception is going to be different. Somehow the “good” (or “great?”) poets have learned a few basics along the way, and the rest is up to the soul of the writer, and the audience he or she attracts due to our innate universal harmonic connections. With that, I present:


The Bride


the day, perfect: sapphire sky
white windswept tresses
caressing eternity

the Bride
seeks refuge in the garden
her private retreat shadowed
by dark tresses, blue hydrangea;
she recalls Grandmother’s perfume

that’s the moment it shows

but only to this artist painting
this poet musing
no passing guest to witness
but, just now,
sullen eyes betray
Grandmother’s regret as her own

neither child nor innocent
as she was a day or lifetime ago
she just needs a moment

then back to Groom and reception

eyes sapphire bright

she goes



Lady Diane Randall (C)

The Great Gatsby: The Many Ways Spirit Speaks to Me

Dear Friends, Bloggers, Dreamers all…

I am having the most intriguing series of synchronicities – and I love it! I love it when Spirit finds a door that’s wide open in me and pours through me in wave after wave of imagery, messages from disparate places & people, dreams, etc… all to reveal what’s really going on deep within me and perhaps, with others in my life. I have so much to say, I hardly know where to begin. It’s that way with Spirit revelations…whoo! Because I want so much to heal my inner self, and I’m open, open to all that is Good, all that is Real, so that I can be available not only to myself but to those I love, and even, perhaps, to thinking of a future that, unlike Gatsby’s, does not end in Death, but in Rebirth; a new me, and yet the Real Diane. I’m thinking now how interesting my gladness in keeping the nom de plume “Lady Diane.” Nobility in humility, or vice versa, or…?

TWO NIGHTS AGO: Watched The Great Gatsby, 1974. I hate sad endings!

YESTERDAY: Received notice of a post by Cristian Mihai about the version of the film, The Great Gatsby. Cristian Mihai states that he has read the novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald every year since he was 13 I believe … he is only 20 years old, brilliant and entertaining:

YESTERDAY: My Post to Cristian Mihai about The Great Gatsby
(Spoiler Alert! Includes Dramatic Spiritual References to Me!):

I don’t believe in coincidences… everything is connected. So I’m VERY interested to find out why I just watched, for the first time, the older version of The Great Gatsby with Robert Redford – last night! And here just now, after coming down from a depressive outburst of tears and confusion – I went outdoors and spoke to the trees and cried, cried, cried… then I decided I would do other things (spiritually speaking) to understand…this wave of emotions…but FIRST – I decided to check my email to see if anything new came up that would speak to me. And here I find your post, Cristian…about the new (film)… with the absolutely amazing Leonardo DiCaprio. SO, I don’t know what it means but I am over my own tears and will contemplate – and probably post something – about this connection…

(Soul-Digging Continues As I Lash Myself to the Stake of Healing Fire!)

After my comment to Mr. Mihai, I meditated, then watched another classic movie, “Beware of Pity,” because the title seemed worth researching, given my situation. Another tale of the paradox of privilege, of self-centeredness versus our true nature of compassion, of the dangers of naivete’ leading to betrayal, and alas, too late – death rather than rebirth, regret rather than redemption. 

DREAM ALERT! My Subconscious Invites Itself to the Bonfire!

Last night, I dreamt of my secret love… Robert Redford. Actually, I dreamt of a man I’d worked for many years ago, who had recognized my talents (for writing, especially!) and promoted me to his department. His name is Ron Gable and he looked very much like the Robert Redford of my time and, like Robert, is a good man, a trustworthy man. I dreamt that I was trying to get closer to him and pointed to the television that was playing The Great Gatsby of 1974, and said to him, “You know, when we worked together, you reminded me of him, and you still do.”

GATSBY SPEAKS TO ME! Directly from the “Real” Land of WordPress!

This morning, hung over from my own melodrama, contemplating the dream… I opened my email and there was a “Like” from a blogger known as “Gatsby Luxury.” His site is resplendent with glorious photographs from the new version of the movie. I reposted my note to Cristian Mihai and added:

Well, thank you again, Gatsby… I may not live the lifestyle but I have a great deal of thought on the character of Jay, of Robert Redford, and I definitely want to see the new movie because Leonardo takes a character and makes it come completely alive and real. And maybe that’s the conundrum, here, because I don’t know that Gatsby ever felt completely alive and real, except when he was in his hopeless romantic fantasy world, hoping against hope that Daisy would leave Tom… and save him.

THE CATALYST FOR MY DRAMA: Contained Within a Most Inconspicuous & Non-Fiction Post THAT GATSBY “LIKED!”

The post “Gatsby” liked, written just before this series of events came about,  was my desperate plea about my dog, Sadie, who has become too much burden for me to bear. And my tear-full healing last night, was dramatic; I hugged the trees outside and could not stop! I looked to the skies, looking through the branches of trees as they answered me not. The catalyst for this drama? My dog Sadie, my daughter Rebecca (who is Sadie’s Real Mommy), and the burdens I bear as a MS patient, living in a community that is half-helpful, half-stressful; half-normal and half-crazy.


THE DRAMATIC REVEAL (Drum Roll, Please!):

And could it be that I am, at this moment, embodying – or begging for release from – the “Gatsby” story that is mine? Here it is: Perhaps I don’t know if I have “ever felt completely alive and real, except when (I) was in (my) hopeless romantic fantasy world, hoping against hope that (Robert Redford, Ron… or anyone close to that ideal)… would save (me).”

If You’ve Read This Far, Gather Up Your Angels – You’r’e Gonna Need Them!

The path to healing everything hidden within is not easy, my friends. It takes courage to release our false hopes, to dig deeply into our souls, to release our fear and self-pity. It takes great courage to speak the truth as we know it once we realize we must speak it, if we are to Live. It is, however, the way – the ONLY way – out of hell and into the Ultimate Reality known as Heaven on Earth. This is true in any religion; the language and verbiage may be different, but all practices and prayers lead to the same perfect place.

Thank you and blessings to all!

Lady Diane Randall

Have I Mentioned I Have MS Yet? A few words (or more…)

Hello, readers! No poem to go with this one today. While browsing (not perusing – I learned that word means to study, to go over all the details of the object being perused – I always thought it meant a little more than skimming, that’s all!). So, while browsing “New Health Paradigms” WP blog by “Robert,” I wrote a reply and thought I’d repost it, and preface that with a few of my thoughts on Multiple Sclerosis and health of all kinds in general.

It may be of interest to some that today, I discontinued my subscriptions to the major online and print publications from MS organizations. Why? They do offer a lot of information, a lot of support, and I do not deny that many people love being part of support groups both online and in person. However, so many times when I read these publications, my fears are triggered as they explain the dis-ease and what “could” happen to me physically. I do keep up with doctors but have no specific need to learn all there is to know about ms. Some people do, and also people donate to these organizations so that amazing research can be done. My own family donated quite a bit when my daughter and I participated in a “MS Walk” fundraising event.

I do not focus on myself as “an MS patient,” although it is because of ms (I prefer the smaller letters) that many of my preconceptions of what my life should be – or may become – changed drastically. It is, I’m sure, the path to true freedom and self-awareness, or my path I should say. When we can accept “what is” (think Byron Katie & Eckhart Tolle’s teachings), many other options open for us. I was so very busy as an adult, sometimes in unhealthy ways, often in what people would see as healthy ways. But busy is busy, pressure and stress build when we don’t slow down and take quiet time every single day. I did meditate before and was heavily involved in spiritual goings-on; but as I mention below, without de-constructing the stress patterns that were deeply embedded in my psyche, I was on the roller coaster ride that leads to hell, over and over again. Highs and lows, like drugs. Addicted to distractions and relationships (oh, those can be completely distracting from knowing oneself!).

So, I am living a much more serene lifestyle, I am doing what I love (writing!), and I am much more open to allowing the messages that come to me to shift my vibration in a much more substantial, long-term way. In this regard, my life is better than it ever was. Not everyone would agree if they saw me! There are many things I can no longer “do,” or do as often or as well, but then again, there are many things I no longer “have to” do! And “taking care of myself” is my number one job.

Will I be healed or cured someday? Perhaps. There are holistic/scientific (these are becoming one, as are spirituality & science) discoveries every day that give us hope that any dis-ease can be eliminated from the beautiful cells of our bodies. In the meantime, learning to know my body, to manage triggers such as stress, using adaptive equipment and letting myself rest physically and mentally, receiving disability income and living in an apartment built for people like me – all of these factors contribute to my well- being, as well as those I mention below.

Thanks for reading (listening! because we do “read aloud” in our heads, don’t we?), and I hope that some others with Multiple Sclerosis, or any other dis-ease, will find some resonance in what I write. I do use some medications to manage my symptoms, and I do eat as my body asks me to… which is quite different from a lot of holistic or allopathic advice I receive. I cannot do raw foods, fasting, vegetarianism, or high-fiber. Perhaps someday I will be able to, but accepting and  loving my body as it is, is much more important to me than trying to push something – even something natural – on myself that I’m not ready for.

Dear Robert, Thank you for liking my post/poem Stars Making Love. If you read my “About Me” you’ll find I have ms which I have called “multiple stress.” I believe that’s where it comes from more than anything; certainly living stress-free is a major factor in NOT progressing (mine is called Primary Progressive MS). But it’s un-doing, de-constructing the stress patterns that are key. I have studied, meditated, and continue to grow and to KNOW that it is possible for me to heal from this and every thought pattern that is not in harmony with the Universe. I have a wonderful spiritual therapist and amazing old-school brilliant doctors (retired volunteers) who help me manage my health but don’t push medications on me. I do take some meds for symptom management; perhaps one day I won’t. No, there are no medicines for PPMS; there are several for the other kinds, but some doctors would be very willing to “try” out some meds on me, research trials and tests which would only worsen my symptoms.
Anyway, thanks to you and the many voices of intelligent, caring beings on this planet who are sharing who they are, to bring harmony to the spiritual/emotional/mental and physical health of all beings.
PS to those who ask about “grounding” – it doesn’t have to be the beach, it can be hugging a tree or walking barefoot on leaves; even applying essential oils to the soles of the feet. Sage-smudging. Focusing on breathing in and out of the crown and root (feet) chakras. Meditating that you are at the beach, etc. Patting a dog or cat for a few deeply-present moments. I’ve had to come up with alternatives! And they work… it’s the intention and vibration that does it. Namaste’

Blessed be to All. Thank you, Universe, for providing me with all that I need to thrive, and to be myself always. Amen, and so It Is!

With great love and appreciation,

Lady Diane Randall

Another Mother’s Day Poem-Holy Mother

This is the poem I was thinking of posting for Mother’s Day but could not find in my folder… well, the faeries, pixies, and such LOVE to have fun with me, especially if at the end, I am reminded to be humble. Herewith a poem with similar feeling to the blog and poem I posted earlier… but then again, deeper, stronger… This poem actually comes from an image I could “see” in a Persian rug I had for several years. I loved having this rug by my bed, for nighttime and waking reminders of Her presence:

Holy Mother

Oh, holy Mother…
strong and strange to my seeing,
my hearing, my loving, my being

strong and strange
to the fears that hide behind my heart
who claim I am bound to their illusions
with chains I bought, blind and unaware

Oh, holy Mother
hold me in your strange and perfect gaze
speak to me of loving, of being
in your heart’s dreambeat I feel within

hold me, holy Mother
hold me even when I flinch
try to push away… hold me

hold me, holy Mother
hold me and the children
who struggle within me
whose cries and pain I’ve called my own

hold us all, holy Mother
hold us strong and firm as you pour Truth
into our eyes, our hearts, outworn memories;
and do not let us go

until we release fears guilt pain
until we cry the tears of all we have lost
into the soil that you till and swirl
for the new seeds we will sow

until we melt into your flowering love
reborn in you, as you, holy Mother
as mother, daughter, sister to all…
as the Infinite Love That Is


Lady Diane Randall

Happy Mother’s Day…

I am so blessed! To be a mother to a beautiful being of light, my daughter, Rebecca. We are so very close in spirit and heart – but 7,000 miles distance apart! I’m so happy for her emotional growth and life-blossoming that I cannot “miss” her very often. Distance and time are illusions anyway, especially easy to deal with in this 21st-century time of technology so we speak or chat quite often. I am also very blessed to have the title of “Mom” to my son, Tim; although we rarely connect on the physical level, he is in my heart always and somehow, amidst perhaps conflicting emotions, I am in his.

At any rate, we all have had a mother or mothering influence in our lives, and the true treasure lies in my belief in the “Great Mother,” Gaia, Mother Earth, She of Many Names but the truth is, She Is. She is the true beauty, nurturing, and strength that we all crave and need. Whether or not we receive(d) it from our “birth” mothers, we have Her, and She is in the birth mothers, She is in our hearts and souls, guiding, loving, reminding us to be who we truly are, reminding us how perfect we are. Call Her “unconditional love” for that is what She Is. She will not lie to us; she speaks to us in our dreams, in the clouds, in a song, and even in the memories of our childhood. Call upon Her whenever you feel the need for that healing touch, that warm embrace… or the need to understand and love the mother you are, or the mother you have; indeed, the universal aspect of mothers everywhere.

The following poem came from a healing dream I was blessed to receive:

Blue Stone Prayers

They covered us in blue stones
my daughters and I, blue
of the deepest tears
the sky could ever cry

they sang to us the prayers and songs
we’d sung so many lifetimes ago

then dropped the stones, so deep, so blue
into the swirling ocean,
cresting and falling
against rock, shore, and sky

like prayers
like songs we’d sung so long ago
of healing from tormented days
and nights of ambiguous fears

we sang our prayers and songs
with these women, these faces of the Great Mother,

and became the deepest ocean
until our dreams were troubled no more

we forgave ourselves and those
we’d forgotten

and our hearts were troubled no more

Lady Diane Randall