In This Moment…………..

I love to read by candlelight. 

As dusk falls outside, a chill breeze passes through the house. 

The candle flame flickers in response, instilling life to the dark shadows around me.

I take a moment to enjoy the serenity of  silence that only night time can bring.

The sensual, earthy aroma that accompanies early Autumn has filled my house, bringing with it a multitude of memories infused with bittersweet emotions. It feels as if there is no demarcation between inside or outside. Both worlds are incorporated into a seamless, unified reality of which I too are intimately connected. 
A deep tranquillity settles within my heart and soul. 

It seems that this very moment will last forever . When all worlds become one an eternal stillness is created within which any sense of duality is lost.
Through the open window I see the black velvet of the night sky peppered with small pinpricks of light. Moonlight highlights misshapen clouds as they scud silently across the horizon. Her silver phosphorescence cast upon the landscape as if to lovingly caress her nocturnal kith and kindred. 

I draw comfort from the sight, the same stars and constellations that were there at my birth and have been with me throughout my life. They continue to provide an exquisitely beautiful backdrop to so much of my life, both past and present. 
Out to the porch overlooking my ramshackle garden, my ears are met with the distant mewling of fox cubs. The occasional solitary hoot of an owl adds testament to the incoming night.

A single pipistrelle darts around the street lamp seeking to snare those insects drawn to its fluorescent light. 

A small field mouse scurries through the undergrowth, halting only to sense for any nearby predators that might be hidden amongst the shadows.
I remain as one with the Earth and with eternity. There has never been any separation between myself and the universe. For I feel that deep inside myself I have borne witness to this world since the beginning of time. 

It feels that all of my ancestral memories are within me. There is no physical recall of events, just a deep and soulful knowledge. 

There is no fear of the future for this has always been so and will be forever.

Thou Art That..

Although to others I appear as simply yet another human being amongst millions of other human beings. The expectation from them is that I too operate and act from a similar perspective. In that I will to some extent seek personal, ego related goals. That I will endeavour to make myself secure by the acquisition of material wealth. That I will have similar external interests involving media driven activities of which I am assumed to have a shared predilection. 

This is the hard part, as I by and large do not. 

Living within a society that lives out and expects individuals to adhere to an anthropocentric ideology  is, for me, completely unnatural. 

My empathic spiritual journey has now led to perceptual changes in the way that I experience the world around me. 

I am as one with the Earth. 

My human body forms the flimsiest demarcation of my soul, for my soul too is at one with the Universe. 

Out in the forest the feeling is intensified. 

In the wilderness, the air in my lungs once expelled becomes one with the wind. The breeze then wraps itself around my human form, caressing my hair and skin. Evaporating the thin sheen of sweat on my brow, which had once been part of one of the great oceans. Although the presence of blood, bone and sinew are to be found within me, they too are only borrowed. One day, upon my passing, I will again return to the Earth from whence I came and from which I have never truly been separated. 

Even in my humanity I can sense the other. 

The autonomic consciousness of the bee as it almost preturnaturally carries out its duties to ensure the survival of his hive. 

The feral mind of the fox, raw and unencumbered by a superego seeks to satiate his hunger. 

The various parts of the dense undergrowth, clearings and landscape that give rise to their own genius loci. That speak subtly of sublime nature spirits, evocations, spiritual communion and desperate entreaties to the ‘other’ world. For in these places the veil between the worlds is barely perceptible. One can easily visit other dimensions and planes of existence simply by being present. 

I have no wish to return to my previous experience of life as a simple, egoic human. Indeed I feel that I could not if I wished to. 

So if you see me around, please feel free to say hello as I have much to discuss and desire to hear of your thoughts. You will recognise me by my eyes, they have all the elements of the Earth therein. 

A World in a Grain of Sand……..?

Grateful for the opportunity to rest, I sit down leadenly in my armchair and close my eyelids. 

Outside I hear the wind press itself against the windows, giving the occasional gentle whistle where egress is found. 

The distant sound of children’s laughter, as natural as the babbling of a brook.

A soft, lilting chirrup of birdsong joins Nature’s symphony providing the perfect soundtrack to my repose. 
The generic aches and pains from my previous exertion gently remind me of my physical incarnation. I can almost feel every muscle, tendon and sinew of my body, still tender from my activity..

My heartbeat steadied to a dull regular pulse within my chest, my breathing reduced to a gentle ebb and flow. 

Slowly and tentatively I drift into an involuntary but not unwelcome meditative state.
A discreet impartial awareness arises within me, allowing a sensual acuity of my inner processes.

Words are barely able to interpret the experience. 
I can sense ( feel? hear?) the incipient vibration of air molecules upon the emanation of a distant crow’s caw. 

I can sense the almost untrackable speed with which the sound reaches my the membranes of my eardrums. 

That bundle of energetic information now rapidly traversing through a network of neurones and synapses, electrically bridging the gap between receptors to continue it’s journey. Becoming lost and indiscernable amongst the multitude of other quantum neurological activity. 
I am paradoxically both acutely and dimly aware of other physiological processes inside of me.

Of how I am a world within worlds. 

My arboreal lungs exchanging gases to maintain homeostasis. 

My arteries and veins carrying my lifeblood to the entirety of my corporeality as rivers and streams carry sustenance to the land.
My true self is indiscipherable from all that exists.

I am of the world yet also between the worlds. 

I am the earth, the air, fire, water and yet quintessentially spirit.
Returning from my reverie to my mortal existence. Back to the comparatively coarse and blunted sensorium with which my human form is endowed.

I live my life in the knowledge that all is not what it seems. 

That whatsoever my earthbound experience is at any given moment, it is simply a temporarily fleeting corporal construct.

Belerion, Cornovia.

I feel that I have arrived at last in the land of my ancestors. 

The moors, valleys, rocky tors and the eternal voice of the ocean in the background seemed to welcome me back to where my heart and soul truly belonged. 

The landscape wholly rendiscent of a past life I had lived. A life that still seems a hairs breadth away, that is so near to the surface of my consciousness that I could so easily become overwhelmed with reverie. 

Yet I had never before set foot on this land. 

A land woven with myth, magic and majesty intrinsic and inseparable from its landscape. 

A place of groves, stone circles, fogou’s, holy wells , castles, standing stones, ancient settlements and hillforts. Many untouched by man due to the uncompromising nature of its granite hewn soil. 

Though many have sought through research and study to understand the purposes and possible relationships of the myriad of archaeological sites, it remains enigmatic. 

However therein lies the answer. 

Man had a very different interpretation of the world around us in those ancient times. 

The cold, analytical thought patterns borne of the ‘Enlightenment’ and furthered even more by science were still thousands of years away in the future. 

Man was still inextricably connected to Nature. He never saw himself as apart from the world, he was at one with the Earth, skies and stars. A natural and organic reverence for the Universe was an implicit aspect of life. 

A land so old it still reflects the archetypes and legends of primeval man.

Of Gods and Goddesses, of mermaids and piskies. 

Of giants, lost civilisations and alleged visits by the Devil himself. 

One of the keys that may lend to an understanding of this land is clairsentience. 

The feeling of being a small part a unique jigsaw. 

Of fitting in seamlessly with one’s surroundings unlike nowhere I have known before. 

The gnarled granite hills, many crowned with rudimentary fortifications. 

The overgrown aisles of black thorn and hawthorn bushes hiding away groves of healing springs. 

The dark but somehow luminescent fogous, a chamber for intimate communion with Gaia herself.

Stone circles stand testament to the passage of time, still retaining a mystical essence of primeval magic rituals. 

The roar of the ocean as its tempestuous waves throw themselves in anguish against the rocky cliffs. 

Any type of human interpretation is destined to be flawed. 

This is a place to sensuously feel the raw energy of Nature, to become immersed in it. To feel the essential oneness of all creation.

My lungs full of air drawn from the same high breeze that billows around me.

My blood, sweat and tears formed from the same crashing waves thrown upon the beach.

My bones created from the very substance of the earth. 

The fire in my heart borne from the searing sunlight bathing my presence. 

All of my human and spiritual aspects of self are reflected here in the outside world. I do not need to search for meaning or inspiration for I am home. 

Where the pains and joys of birth, life and death are a divine, ethereal journey in themselves.

Spiritual Individuation….?

It’s strange that it is more often when I am alone that I feel less lonely. 

I am not being exposed to others physical, psychological and emotional energies which can send ripples through my limpid pool of self. 

I’m not expected to become involved in socially constructed scenarios that have no true purpose other than to superficially acknowledge the existence of another. 

 I’m not susceptible to being overcome with the powerful feelings and needs of people around me. These, at times have led me to losing my sense of self and be drawn into their own dark night of the soul believing it to be mine also. 
Sitting quietly at home I bathe in sensual silence. 

As I look around, much of this life’s history surrounds me in the form of my pictures, photographs, music and books.

Each one carrying a distinct memory from the past. Of people and places, of related emotions too, both pleasant and not so pleasant. However, this menagerie of memories brings a feeling of peace and consolidates me in my humaness.
I draw comfort from my past and the lessons that I have learnt. From the realisation of the transient nature of reality reflected in old photos of my family and places I have been. 

From times I had thought that I was at my lowest ebb, when all that I could see in the future was an infinite spiral of despair. 
It seems obvious to me now that our life, our existence is simply a process amongst processes, a wave in the ocean, a ripple in the sea of life.

Our human neurological processes however can fool us into thinking otherwise. 

Our minds often dwell and fret due to our subjective experience of life. We get caught up with our programmed neuroses, worrying about the bills, our financial and emotional security. Our valuable time on Earth being spent mentally and physically scurrying around with the delusional idea that we can somehow insulate ourselves against the threat of change. 
If we can find our silent moments, either in some form of meditation or sometimes peaceful reflection we can find all the answers we need within ourselves.

Although outwardly our individual paths may seem very different to each others, at the end of the day we are all gifted with the power to truly see.

The answer is inside of each and everyone of us. It’s not about chasing egoic ideas in the external world as if they were butterflies but about looking inwards on our experience and accepting it without judgement. 
I feel life is generally a glorious gift to be relished, however we are after all human. This will undoubtedly entail suffering in some manner but an accurate perspective can often ease our transition. 

Our unique answer is already within us waiting to be born.

The Landscape of Life

It’s a strange feeling getting older. I must admit I have always felt old, in the kind of having lived many lifetimes and experienced personally the whole array of human emotions on a deep and penetrating level. 

Some of these episodes I cannot consciously recollect however the associated feelings of those times are as fresh now as they possibly were then.
There are many places and situations that have occurred in my life which give me a distinct sense of deja vu. Sometimes it’s a visual flashback, sometimes on a different sensory level. 

The point being, as I occasionally stop,  turn around and look out at the landscape of my life prior to that, it seems to stretch out for an eternity. 
Some memories I can clearly see, some are vague outlines partly lost in the mists of time. Some are seemingly lost altogether though may return unbidden at some pertinent synchronatic moment.
For me, life is very much like climbing a mountain. I become tired yet somehow stronger. Looking out at the journey I have so far travelled, there are times I have taken the wrong path and times when I have fallen and been injured. Also there are many moments of love, warmth and pure bliss. I feel that I have learnt much, just in this lifetime. 
I find it difficult to predict what the path ahead has in store. One’s life can take many unforseen twists and turns. Whatever happens, whether seemingly good or bad, I realise will pass. 

For as my journey up until now has proven, one cannot really judge at any one moment, that what occurs is either positive or negative. 
What I do know is, I don’t regret any of what I have been through in the past as it has made me who I am now.

And the future? A true adventure for the taking. Endless possibilities and endless experiences lie in wait.

Despite my tiredness, I am eager to continue. Perhaps I will get to the summit one day?  Now that would be something.

October

For me, October is the most energetically charged of months. It’s as if my mind, body and soul have come home to their original abode.

Sitting here on this ancient hilltop, my back leaning against one of the many gnarled yew trees that stand in groups around the site, I look out across the valley below.

A golden Autumnal dusk gradually cloaks the countryside around me, the cool chill of the evening air caresses my skin.

The pungent but aromatic smell of the cold damp earth permeating my lungs, taking me back to my childhood days of wonder and my natural immersion in Nature.

The gentle golden sunbeams shining softly through the small copses foliage, casting long shadows towards the summit of the hill.

A translucent mist rises from the river like a spectral memory of the mythical past. Reminding me of our race’s spiritual closeness to these rivulets of life, of offerings cast into their watery depths.

The leaves slowly changing hue, producing a deep yellow and vermillion backdrop of foliage, rich in colour and texture.
No other month seems to suggest so strongly the inherent cycles of Nature. The continuous movement of the seasons as the year winds down, from the yang of Spring and Summer to the yin of Autumn and Winter are exemplified by the sensual changes in climate and flora.

There seems a stronger spiritual link to the past at this time. Of forgotten memories of previous lives of my ancestors. Times of hardship, of storing food for the Winter, of having to fortify their houses and selves against the oncoming frost and snow.

Rituals are performed, acknowledging our integral relationship with Nature herself. To again become intimately aware of our dependence and oneness with all there is and ever was.
Returning from my reverie, I become aware that night is fast approaching. A distinct, almost physical coldness has arisen with the rising mist. As I return home, looking behind me I can see the encroaching darkness combining with the mist to create a crystal ball like visual portal to the past. I imagine that I can see the spectral souls of long dead citizens busying themselves with preparations for a forthcoming feast. It would be a night of flickering campfires, an almost tangible smell of roast meat fills the air, a chorus of excited, barely hushed voices emanate from the camp.

The often flimsy, gossamer margins between the past, present and future worlds dissipate further to produce moments of a unified sensuality of spirit, of complete oneness.
I leave them to continue to eternally re-enact their celebrations in peace.

Trespassing………

By way of explanation, I produce my written meanderings as a way of expressing my empathic, spiritual and ‘ sensitive’  interpretations of my experiences. I seem to pick up on various energies, mainly from people and places. I try largely not to interpret what presents itself but to offer it up as a raw, objective ( as far as is possible ) interpretation. Any comments and thoughts from others are valuable as they give a different credence to my understanding.

I suppose I simply hope to impart the magic of our world in all its bittersweetness.
Trespassing………?

As I struggle stumblingly through the thick foliage and dead wood on the ground in order to reach my destination, I already feel the atmosphere around me begin to change. The branches and twigs snagging on my clothes and scratching at my hands and face almost seem to deliberately attempt to impede my progress, as if to infer that passage to the stones was to be as inhospitable as possible. There was to be no welcome to this place at this time. It was if they were acting as  an organic deterrent to outsiders ensuring the sanctity and reverence of the site at this moment was not disturbed.

Entering the much overgrown copse where the large stones lay strewn, I could feel a sense of menace and reproach at my presence. The Autumnal sunlight was unable to penetrate the heavy and oppressive foliage seemingly forming a canopy over me to further keep the stones and whatever ceremony had been taking place from prying eyes.

The pungent smell of decaying flora seems to flood my lungs when I inhale, my breath forming small, wisp like clouds in the cold but somehow cloying air about me.

The seven or eight grey, lichen covered stones standing around five to six feet tall amongst the undergrowth had somehow seemed to almost become barely perceptible as if attempting to hide their presence in shame, in the hope that I would not discover their guilt at what practices they had borne witness to. The gritstone blocks which lay above the earth appeared as if they were large, barely identifiable faces of an ancient, ogre like race, twisted and contorted as they were made to behold dark and unspeakable acts committed in their presence.

A penetrating , icy chill took hold of my bones as if the the cold vestiges of the presence of Death had yet to dissipate. I could sense a hundred eyes watching me as I stood there, frozen with anxious apprehension. My expectation being that a malevolent force would at any moment suck out my soul and condemn my spirit to join others here for eternity.

It was as if all the warm, if somewhat shy, benevolent nature spirits that normally inhabitted the woods had been banished to be replaced with their shadow counterparts . From being a sanctum of love and reverence to Nature, the site was now an energetic antithesis of same. A place of conjuring of dark, primordial forces in the pursuit of power and influence in the physical world by the offering up of ceremonial spiritual sacrifices.

I quickly turned my back to the stones and hastily and rather clumsily made my way back to the road. Trying not to run ( as was my predilection) in order not to precipitate what I felt might become a chase I approached my car, fumbled with my keys, desperately trying to not look behind me.

I slammed the car door behind me, by way of physically putting an end to the experience. I sighed heavily with relief, trying not to reflect on my somewhat surreal experience.

In The End…….?

I personally believe that people with ‘ empathic ‘  attributes have a predisposition to a raw spirituality by nature of our so called make up. The main theme in our relationship with the external and internal worlds is primarily those of love and compassion. This is our core, like it or not, this is who we are. Not the media paraded fickle love and compassion, not of the transient liaisons with partners, not of the political rhetoric voiced by diplomats in order to recruit our support and not of the saccharine sweetness of cinematic portrayal. 

This love and compassion is a fiery, never say die, heroic force within us. It’s something we cannot deny as it continues to drive us forward, forward into our world. The outside world is frequently a war zone of energies, individuals vying for their place in society, people projecting their beliefs and biases onto others in order to consolidate their perceived position of power. Yet we go on. 

Often we seem to stand alone on the battlefield of life, armed only with our individuated integrity and the knowledge in our heart and soul that our path is true. For we have no armour, armour would make us less susceptible to the suffering of others and thus undermine our ability to use our empathic energy to stand our ground and to save those whom we could. 
Whatever flag, banner or label we wish to identify with in life, whether we are Buddhist, Christian, Catholic , Muslim or whatsoever, being truly spiritual is having the essential ingredients of genuine love and compassion. For without these we are of little help to one another. 

I have spent many years looking after individuals who have suffered at the hands of mental and physical ill health, from the new born to the dying. These people often show in their times of despair our true vulnerability. No matter how they have lived, what they have personally done to ‘get by’, they and we are all seeking a loving and compassionate connection with others. One that is based on implicit acceptance and trust, one in which we can all fall into when needed and that we know will always be there. 
” I was young then. A student carer on one of my first placements on a psychogeriatric ward. I didn’t really know her, nor her me. But that really wasn’t in the equation in the slightest possible way. Dementia and cancer had worn away at her in these final months of her time. She was close to relinquishing her already tenacious grip on life. As I held her bony and wizened hand, I could feel how cold it had become as her heart was no longer strong enough to push her blood to her fingers. Her eyes beyond the yellowed cataracts still felt my presence even if she did not ‘ see me’. As she drew her final breath, I believe that I felt a kind of release from her, a final relinquishment of all that she had known. Now willing to embrace an uncertain future rather than holding on to an untenable and painful present. I also imagine that I felt a kind of soulful ‘ thank you’ as she passed away. As if it meant so much for someone to simply be there at her passing, that she wasn’t alone at this time. I have felt honoured and humbled to this day. “

Genius Loci…………?

I began my trek to my destination. Heavy, grey clouds were gathering overhead as if to accentuate the importance of my visit by preventing the rays of sunlight detracting from my purpose. Through muddy fields and over rickety stiles I walked, the only hint that this path had been used for hundreds of years being a well worn path and the sense of joining the spirits of the many others who had also took part in the short journey from the small village over the millennia. 
Soon the route ( as is often the case when visiting ancient sacred sites) narrows and I am surrounded on either side by overhanging bushes and tree branches creating a natural aisle for reverential processions to proceed. Light birdsong and the soft, gentle trickling of water are the only sounds to be heard, creating a kind of Natures choir as I move closer to my goal .

The path widens a little but I am still enclosed in the seemingly welcoming and protective undergrowth flourishing around the well, as if to provide privacy and promote a secular spiritual intimacy to the occasion. 
The Cloutie tree in front of the well is festooned with colourful adornments, mostly ragged pieces of cloth left by visitors who await their degradation in order to relieve whatsoever malaise afflicts them. I can almost hear silent and sometime desperate prayers from those who have sought relief here. Many, many tears over the years have fallen from many cheeks upon this spot, their sorrow and entreaties forever mixed with the sparkling translucent waters of the spring. 
Direct access to the well is seemingly complicated by a mixture of deep bog and gnarled branches as if put there to deter only the most determined soul. 

Following the spring water further alongside the path, the stream enters a roofless ancient chapel. It’s grey corbelled walls forming a rough square with an entrance from the north. On entering the chapel I can feel the reverence and the sanctity that the site has been endowed with over the years. The barely tangible energies of the souls of previous supplicants frequent here, forever paying homage to this most holy of Nature’s shrines. The lack of a roof means anyone knelt in prayer in front of the altar offers up their beseechments and adoration to the blossoming flora and the barely visible sky amongst the treetops. As I stand, head bowed in front of the rough hewn granite altar littered with offerings of flowers and coins, I hear the soft, gentle waters of the spring empty into a crude font behind me. This accentuates further the feelings of ambience and serenity that epitomises my visit. 

Kneeling in supplication in front of the altar it seems apparent that the stone and earth beneath me have witnessed much worship here, mostly to Mother Nature in her various guises as the sanctum has almost become as one with the scrub of the grove. An overwhelming sense of peace and oneness with nature penetrates my core, merging seamlessly with my physical self. If this were to become my final resting place, this sancta of Gaia, there would no need for belief in an afterlife or thought to what happens at life’s end. For I am sure I would rest blissfully for eternity in this very spot.