Monthly Archives: April 2011

soul garden

at times I glimpse her

from the corner of my eye

in the garden chair

she shows today

smiles at the blossom-rain

mild air everywhere

a soul-scent

spreads as a rose opens

and opens …

I look again and she’s gone


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blissful Easter time

my son and his friend, wading in the stream after a run


Waggons Wells


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webs and networking

Some time ago I took this photo of a carefully designed spider net in my garden.

I have a serious question – it seems to me that spider webs are deteriorating. They still do the job of catching food, but they are irregular, arbitrary and carelessly designed. Is it my looking, is it that I tend to come upon haphazardly made nets as a reflection of my own state of mind, or is it a general condition of our time reflected in nature?

And yes, there are as many metaphors here as you wish to apply, the general lack of human engagement, the lack of stillness and concentration, and the virtual meaninglessness which pervades so much of our web and networking activities included.


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what would you do?

this is a dream shared by Cara, which Ana recorded in her diary. The dream appears in chapter 23 of – Course of Mirrors – when Rufus gets hold of Ana’s diary …

I am a passenger on a large vessel that is sinking. Its bow gradually keels under. At about 90 degrees, the movement stops. I look through the porthole at stern and discover why. The ship’s anchor is caught on a protruding rock. A hammer hangs next to the porthole. I can smash the glass and save myself. But I must alert others. Who can I trust?  If word of rescue spreads, the panic will bring a stampede of passenger to this porthole. The balance of weight would be upset and dislodge the precarious hold the anchor has on the rock. We would all sink to the bottom of the ocean.

A vexing problem … ?


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unique moments that nourish

I didn’t hear the knock. Around lunchtime I found surprises in the porch – the Mexican hammock I ordered – arriving on this perfect sunny day, and a book – The Four Elements – by John O’Donohue, sent by a friend as present. And it’s not even my birthday.

So here’s heaven – the stillness of a garden, being held snug in the the most comfortable thrice woven, rainbow-coloured hammock , suspended between earth and sky, belonging to my inner world, watching the blue space through treetops with tiny swirls of apple blossoms landing on my hands and book pages.

I read J. O’Donohue … the primary world …  the world that is invisible … within us … And he talks of Meister Eckhart … Nowness … ah … and he quotes some of my favourite poems … The Tyger by Blake … The Song of Wandering Aengus by Yeats …

This afternoon, all my multiple selves enjoyed peace, a unique and deeply nourishing moment of gentle movements in the silence of my garden.

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learning to use their imagination should be mandatory for politicians

A UK government spokesman says, ‘… it takes a lot to grow a business.’

It takes a lot more to grow human beings … since the last century we have mindlessly implemented deep and longterm damage to our planet’s self-regulating system. Such power requires the moral and ethic responsibility to take the wellbeing of future generations into account.

A diverse gene pool provides the resources to survive adverse conditions. Effects that cause a loss in genetic diversity risk extinction of whole species – including us.

Put the red tape where it belongs. Why, for example, does a council fine people for having a sack stick out of a wastebin yet allows businesses to pollute our water and air, and destroy for generations to come the ecological balance of the one body we are all part of ?

you can use your vote …

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it’s this kind of day …

I climbed into the plum tree

and ate the grapes I found there.

The owner of the garden called to me,

‘Why are you eating my walnuts?’

Yunus Emre


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… the decisive element …

‘I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element. It is my personal approach that creates the climate. It is my daily mood that makes the weather. I possess tremendous power to make life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration; I can humiliate or humour, hurt or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis is escalated or de-escalated, and a person is humanized or de-humanized. If we treat people as they are, we make them worse. If we treat people as they ought to be, we help them become what they are capable of becoming.’

–         Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

A programme on today’s radio 4 by Melvyn Bragg brought a play of ideas …

Neutrinos, the small, unseen spectators Wolfgang Pauli proposed in 1930, turned out to be the weak force that travels at near speed of light through the densest of materials …

I apologise for the crude simplification jumping over decades of research … Enrico Fermi developed the first theory of beta decay and coined the word ‘neutrino’ in 1934, while Cowan and Reines did an experiment in 1956 that eventually brought them a Nobel Prize.

Neutrinos are produced through sun-quakes, the nuclear reactions a sun produces, our sun included. There are billions of these particles passing through our bodies right now.

What if all the information circulating the universe was carried by neutrinos? In which case, consider Goethe’s conclusion –  that we are the decisive elements –  and the question – what do we invest our thoughts with? And what postulates do we leave for the next generation?

These invisible particles could be the medium recording information since the big bang (or the many big bangs, what do we know), and the medium for thoughts, transmitting anything from compulsive resentment to love. And depending on what wavelength we tune into, these weird particles could even be the medium for a timeless omnipresent spirit of guidance that allows freedom of choice …

Think also: akashic records, an ancient concept,  and morphic fields, R. Sheldrake.

Yes, I know what you’re thinking, she’s nuts, ha, ha. But I’m not the only one …

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I’m patiently waiting for my professional review re: ‘Course of Mirrors’ since the story has made the editor’s desk on the Harper Collins authonomy site in February. Reviewers are known to take their time. To ease my nerves, I tell myself the story is so offbeat they won’t know what to make of it … ha, ha.

In the meantime I edited my body, my garden, my kitchen, my wardrobe and next will be all redundant papers  –  over six-year-old accounts, client papers, minutes, proofs, sacks and sacks of paper will go to a confidential shredding agency. I call it purification, weeding, clearing, recycling and space-making.

And having gained all this fantastic space – new inspiration will sneak into my writing …


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Joys of Spring

Still hanging about like a rag-doll after a nasty flu. Calling it spring-sweep is an understatement. Brain in white-noise-mode – skin electrified – want sleep but can’t sleep . I detest pain killers – so I suffered, ha ha, and felt sorry for myself. So much to take care of, so much to do, sniff, sniff …

During the last two days my cough turned dry and compulsive. This is where I finally remembered my Homoeopathic  supplies – three powders of Bryonia during the night, and hey presto …  I was reminded of Hafiz … good company, Hafiz 🙂

File:Hafez - By Mahmud Farshchian.jpg

Hafez image by Mahmud Farshchian



My Sweet, Crushed Angel
You have not danced so badly, my dear,
Trying to hold hands with the Beautiful One.

You have waltzed with great style,
My sweet, crushed angel,
To have ever neared God’s Heart at all.

Our Partner is notoriously difficult to follow,
And even His best musicians are not always easy
To hear.

So what if the music has stopped for a while.

So what
If the price of admission to the Divine
Is out of reach tonight.

So what, my dear,
If you do not have the ante to gamble for Real Love.

The mind and body are famous
For holding the heart ransom,
But Hafiz knows the Beloved’s eternal habits.

Have patience,
For He will not be able to resist your longing
For long.

You have not danced so badly, my dear,
Trying to kiss the Beautiful One.

You have actually waltzed with tremendous style,
O my sweet,
Oh my sweet, crushed angel.


(I Heard God Laughing – Renderings of Hafiz by Daniel Ladinsky)


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