It’s Been Awhile…. ( on curveballs and life)

Well it’s been over a year since I last wrote a post and what a year it’s been ( well two years actually). Just when you think you’re getting a handle on things, life throws you a curveball or several in my case. To name a few

– Suffering burnout from work and subsequently anxiety and depression.

– My mother developing cancer

– My eldest son bring beaten up and getting his skull fractured

– Financial difficulties due to a lack of a decent pay rise in ten years

– Being newly diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome / Myalgic Encephalomyelitis.

Anyone who has read my blog knows at heart I’m a spiritual type of guy, so as you can imagine my life has thrown up some pertinent questions.

Generally my standpoint in life is many things happen for a reason, even though that may not be clear at the time. I do however feel that I have actually learnt something from the pain and anguish.

I have spent far too much energy and effort filling time with unnecessary but pleasantly distracting activities because I felt that I did not have the recourse for other, more meaningful ones. Such things as social media, popping into coffee shops or simply getting stuck in some form of behaviour which prevented me being alone with myself. The behaviour provided an excuse to not really confront the real issues which were present in my soul. They made me comfortable but not whole.

I currently have Covid so any sort of external activity has stopped and I have been left with little else to do but dig deeper into myself for answers. I have come to appreciate again those things in life that are most precious.

– the searing, flame ridden sunsets

– the majesty of birds and insects going about their daily lives

– the verdant, foliage ridden valleys blossoming in the Summer sun

– the primordial peace one can find when in the depths of the forest or by the ocean.

All this, when experienced calls to my eternal soul. I know that I have been witness to these events since time began. Every moment of our lives is a blessing and pregnant with magic and wonder if only we had eyes to see.

Obviously these experiences do not change difficult circumstances but they do however offer a different perspective. One of appreciation and love rather than stress and self pity.

So yes, I believe my recent problems have led me to begin again. To once more become of the world ( not just in it) and suitably humble. I am surely grateful.

With Discerning Eyes….

When he had found out that he was empathic his experiences finally made sense. It also explained as to why others seemed to not understand some of the ideas and feelings he had expressed.
This energetic ‘ sensitivity’ it would seem allowed him to access the depths of others emotions or thoughts from the briefest of encounters. Also to preternaturally sense sites and places of power in the landscape.
When occurring the experience was never easy to describe as they presented frequently as fleeting gossamer tendrils of energy manifesting as thoughts, feelings or images or a combination of all three.
Sometimes he would become overwhelmed with the presenting energy and find himself utterly absorbed into the persons self or the genius loci of the site and it’s magical history and presence.

The older gentleman sitting by himself at the bar, baseball cap covering his eyes as nurses his glass of spirit and ice. An ex military man mumbling a soliloquy of painful memories and regrets. Rheumy eyes gaze blearily out from under the peak of his cap as the waitress delivers his next shot. The alcohol numbing his reflective suffering and giving some relief to his emotional turmoil.

The young mother in the restaurant doting on her two year old, making entreaties for him to eat. Her partner sits there disinterse, texting on his mobile phone. His demeanor suggests his belief that he sees himself as an ‘ alpha male’. His overt masculinity she once found attractive however all she feels now is oppressed and disregarded.

Walking along a narrow lane towards the holy well, surrounded either side by overhanging gorse bushes and tree branches creating a natural aisle for a reverential procession. One can almost hear the hushed, silent voices of the ancestral supplicant as they approached this sanctum of Gaia. Grey, corbelled walls surround the natural font, many clouties hang from the hawthorn tree in the grove. These given as offerings by those wishing to be healed. Their entreaties almost palpable and their silent tears having fallen on the soil to be mixed with the translucent waters of the spring.

The overgrown scrub obscured much of the ruinous stone circle within the small copse. However it’s ethereality could strongly be sensed. A long history of mystic practices had impressed themselves on this spot and what remained was a subtle but powerful energy. The quality of the energy sometimes changed on each visit. This time the feeling was stark. The sandstone uprights seemed to stare disaffected towards him. It felt as if a hundred or so malevolent eyes watched warily from the undergrowth resenting his presence as if he had interrupted some sacred liturgy.

He reflected on all these memories and felt he had been given a special insight into the true nature of reality. And if was really one’s perspective that mattered then he was truly gifted.

Sunday Sentience

I love Sundays. When I was younger I quite disliked them, what with shops, cafe’s, pubs etc either closed or shutting early. I would feel bored and confined to more mundane activities.
But not now. Sundays make it easier to step out of the hustle and bustle of the working week, away from the overwhelming array of social stimuli and having to remain seemingly stoic in the face of the many challenges that modern life can present us with.
Sitting on my porch on this still and frosty morning my mind naturally settles into a relaxed, reflective, lucid state. The pale, watery winter sunlight permeates the remaining foliage of the trees at the bottom of the garden, illuminating the crystalline drops of molten snow dangling precariously from the twigs and branches. A quarrel of small house sparrows fly into a nearby hedge seemingly bickering loudly. Two grey squirrels chase each other over the snow mottled grass, running and jumping in a fervent game of tag.
A couple of night black rooks stare down from a nearby rooftop as if surveying their territory. By their proximity to each other and the purely natural ease of their togetherness, their monogamy is undoubted.
I shiver outwardly as an icy breeze picks up and sears my face announcing the imminent arrival of distant clouds, heavy and grey with precipitation.
As I sit here watching Nature at play, I become aware of a wry but gentle smile upon my face.
I reflect on my current thoughts:
– whatever life presents us with, it is but the smallest ripple when compared to the enormity of existence, time and space.
– strange but paradoxically comforting is that my brief sojourn of life as a human on this planet is finite and at its end I return to my source, complete again.
– life itself is nothing more concrete than a constant dance of ephemeral gossamer illusions.
– that at the quantum level, I have never been or ever will be separate from the complex and exquisitely manifested world around me.

Yes, life is good, as long as I don’t take it personally ❤️❤️.

Cockroach Berry

An ode in the form of a tanka to the aforementioned fruit I found in my garden in England. It’s originally native to Brazil.

red cockroach berry
upon fragile stalk enthroned

red cockroach berry
upon fragile stalk enthroned
sense of loneliness
to be so far from home
together we exist, alone

ense of loneliness to be so far from home together we exist, alone

As One…….

As One………….

Sitting here upon an old sarsen stone on the hilltop over looking the river valley, I reflect on the true wondrousness of Nature and her infinite beauty.
Albeit early November, the heavy rains and recent high winds have taken their toll on the trees and bushes in view.

Much foliage has been washed or blown away leaving large portions of the fauna appearing comparatively skeletal beneath the setting Sun.
A fresh breeze struck up bringing the heavy earthy smell of sodden mulch to my nostrils, instantly whisking me away to my childhood playing hide and seek amongst the bracken in the local woods.
The Sun lower in the sky now, creating a deep amber glow across the horizon, casting the illusion of rivers of fiery lava between the slender stretches of cloud.
The fields, trees and hedges appearing to glow with new life under the gaze of the last vestiges of muted auric sunlight.
A couple of acer trees, their leaves seemingly ablaze with ethereal vitality as if in defiance at the ending of the day.
Even the trunks and limbs of a row of nearby elm trees appear blood red in the evening light.
A murder of rooks overhead caw loudly out to each other as if also in protest at the demise of the day, restricting their hunting until the morning sunrise.

In moments such as this, I easily lose my sense of self amongst the rich and exquisite tapestry of Nature’s views, smells and sounds.
I am the buzzard circling majestically, high above the ground, acutely aware of any movement below.
I am one of the ancient Yews that circle the hilltop, bearing silent intuitive witness to the seasons passing.
I am the cold crumbling stone masonry of the old castle, built aeons ago in the dim mists of time.
I am also this very earth, porous and yielding to the elements above yet an ever present memory to the thousands of years of history enacted upon me.

Any hint of separation of myself and all that is, was and will be has been lost forever. For I am too destined to always be an eternal part of life on Earths great cosmic dance.

An Anomalous Life…..

Ever since I can remember I have had anomalous experiences. These along with many other synchroniticous events have always hinted to me about the presence of something ‘other’ than what is ordinarily percieved in ordinary day to day life.
I have long since stopped sharing these episodes with others as it would appear that they are not common to many people. That is most individuals believe that I am either joking or are simply more unhinged than I appear already!!

This empathic trait of mine seems to allow me to access to the sensing of other energetic phenomena not common to others. A few examples follow, please indulge me as I would appreciate your thoughts –
– as a child I have a distinct recollection of conversing with a kind of Lilliputian group of people who lived in my house. They also had a german shepherd dog.
– Seeing fleeting glimpses of seemingly spirit like persons drifting across my bedroom
– have lived in many ‘haunted’ houses where soap has flown off window sills, doorbells rang where there were none, seeing part or whole human figures who passed through solid objects, shaking beds and creaking floorboards with no physical explanation to state just a few
– hearing ‘voices’ / partial conversations when no one was around
– feelings of being watched whilst visiting some ancient sites and having had later looked at the photo’s observed small, gremlin type faces in the undergrowth.

I have come to accept these things as ‘normal’ now and I simply smile wryly to myself at any further incidents, usually speaking aloud to whatever causative factor I percieve it to be.
It sometimes feels that I am in some way a catalyst to these events and are integral to them.

There are also varieties on this theme too whereby synchronitic occurrences take place or simply just odd situations occurring.
I once had a kundalini type experience whilst I was walking through a local park on a beautiful, sunny Autumn day. It was quite unnerving and on the way home I took time to peer into a nearby river. There for the first time I saw an eel swimming in the clear water. Following a bit of evening research I discoverd kundalini was described as a snake found at the base of the spine. Also that the symbol ouroboros related to some aspects of my life at that time.

It seems that the Universe may have many messages for us but we need to be open to them and be able to somewhat objective in their analysis in how they may relate to us.

” Synchronicity is an ever present reality for those who have the eyes to see”.
Carl Jung.

I would also add so are anomalous experiences 😊

On Growth, Transience and Love

( NB I wrote this awhile back when I was going through what I liken to a spiritual growth ‘spurt’. Fortunately I was able to make some changes but there is still more to come!) 😊❤️

As I meander through life some days, like this morning, my mind seems set on reflection.
There was a time when I believed in the permanence of things. That is, people, objects, beliefs and such like. But as I have grown older I have come to believe that all is indeed transient.
What served me in the past no longer does so. From career to relationships, many of those activities that I was happily involved in have now mainly become burdens which seek to follow me despite my wishes to start projects afresh.

I have no desire for personal wealth or possessions.
No inclination to pay lip service to individuals whose only interaction is based on purely reinforcement of the ego.
Neither do I feel that I have time to waste within my precious time on this Earth fitting into society’s expectations of whom or what sort of person I should be.

Looking out from my window I see a vista that is very familiar to me. However I am aware there are also exquisite, minute changes happening every second that I observe. The tinted golden leaves and heavy branches moving majestically in the stiffening chill Autumn breeze.
For all of life is in flux, there are no solid consistent particles that build the world around us. That is the optical delusion caused by our coarse senses and proffered by the society within which I was born.

As to the future?
To spend the remainder of my life in love and intimacy.
Investing time with those precious individuals to whom life is also sacred. Those who are aware of the innate divinity of the world and universe around us. Those human souls who are still strong and wise enough to wear their hearts on their sleeves.
To further develop an intimacy and love of Nature.
In watching the ethereal and eternal sunrises and sunsets.
In sensual awareness of the subtle change of seasons. Amongst the flora and fauna of this exquisite tapestry of life with which I am greeted in every moment.
Being where the the stormy, tumultuous, steely waves meet the rocky shore. To have one’s breath whisked away by the high gusts of winds blasting over me. Showered in sea spray bringing with it that salty, musty aroma that only the ocean can muster.

And for me to become truly whom I was meant to be. It may be that crazy eyed, dishevelled eccentric guy who sits quietly outside cafe’s busily writing down his thoughts.
It may be the man in simple clothes who sits atop of hills or in valleys simply watching, silently. Or the one whom sits in his study, surrounded by a multitude of books and articles. Spending his days browsing through the volumes content with his space, along with the somehow comforting smell that accompanies grey and discoloured pages of the old manuscripts.

Sanctum of Gaia

Sanctum of Gaia

The grey granite men of old stand silently sentient in the morning Autumnal must. For thousands of years they have witnessed generations of villagers go about their daily business, quietly watching, none judgemental and somehow protective.
As if the stone circles themselves had created an invisible cloak of protection over the hamlet, maybe honouring the ancestors of the dark and distant past who brought them to this place.

Still invested with magic from the primeval rituals of long, long ago. Their individual energies remain placid and latent.
However when sensed as part of the landscape along with their monolithic kin, the high banks surrounding them, the nearby Silbury Hill and the barrow graves of the Neolithic dead, the culmination of power is dizzying in its intensity.
The whole area is imbued with the divinity of the Earth herself. The stones themselves standing in stubborn testimony to their eternal reverence to Nature and her cycles.

Each single megalith upon closer scrutiny can be seen to have their own separate characteristics.
Their are tall, slimmer boulders as well as lozenge shaped squat ones.
The surface of some of the weathered, lychen encrusted stone facades seem to almost have idiosyncratic facial features. Small holes and the cracked rough surfaces combine to give the impression of gnarled grimaces and austere stares to those who care to see. It’s as if the stones themselves have taken on the guises of past villagers, immortalising them forever in this very place of their birth.

The purpose and meaning of the site has been subject to much scientific and at archeological investigation. However it will probably never be proven as the original builders were of a completely different mindset and culture. These structures were not from a post enlightenment analytical perspective but from more sensory primal era.
A time when Nature was invested with ethereal power, when man was at one with the wider world and his senses attuned accordingly to his environs. Through their vision only can this sanctum of Gaia be comprehended and fully understood.

Wanderlust

It seems that my wanderlust has returned yet again. I’m no stranger to such feelings however, they frequent many times a year but never so powerful as when Autumn approaches.
The increasingly golden sunsets, the chill evening breeze hinting at the soon to be arrival of cooler weather.
The iridescent foliage of the trees and bushes as each becomes more vibrant in colour, accentuated further by the aureate sunlight as it shimmers through the leaves.

My heart aches to spend time alone in the parting dusk of Summer, not wanting to miss a single ethereal moment of the subtle changes now manifest in Nature. Out amongst the woods and forests, in the groves overgrown by bracken and silently watching a gossamer spectral mist arise slowly from the lakes.

It’s at times like this that I could so easily walk away from this fettered life of supposed domesticity with its alleged comfort and security. Following my souls primal call to be amongst Nature herself.
The urge as irresistible as a mermaids song, gentle and hypnotic but relentlessly demanding of the union of myself with Gaia.

I would gladly leave the demands of modern societys day to day machinations. The nine to five daily sacrifice of eight unredeemable hours in order to pay faceless companies for ‘necessities’ to which I have been socialised to accept as normal living.

Instead I would stroll in silence, through the long grass of the meadows and the copses of huddled trees, save for primordial sounds of birdsong and the gentle babble of nearby brooks.
To eventually lose any remnant of my human self, no longer able to distinguish where myself and the rest of creation were either to begin or end.

Sanguinity………?

Oh for the sanguinity of being in Mother Natures bosom.
Far away from tumultuous grasping of modern society and the machinations of the human mind.
Away from the harried rumble of incessant traffic, of bustling individuals vying for space on their personal treadmill of journey’s to and from work.
Away from the garish, high definition, pixelated preoccupation of humanity and the subsequent sense numbing devices designed to distract us and subvert our own unique particular creativity.

Instead I would have the exquisite paradox of being alone amongst the flora and fauna of the outside world. For it is only here I find consummate peace.
A sense of oneness with my environs, a joyous relinquishment of humanitys preconceived perception that the demarcation of selfhood ceases within our own flesh.
You would find me amongst the overgrown groves hidden away from the eyes of men who would be deaf to the subtle yet pervasive genius loci inherent in these sanctas of Gaia. Here I would hear the barely audible whispers of the primeval past, of nature spirits playing amongst the undergrowth and of human supplication to those that would listen.
Or on a citadel of rugged granite clifftops towering over a bottomless, tumultuous ocean of crashing waves. The roar of the sea serving as a metaphor for my souls cry for a fully realised union with all that is.

After some time you may find me alone amongst the wilderness, in the wildwoods or along austere, barren and tide worn coasts. No longer dressed or preened for societal consumption.
My hair long, tousled and rain sodden. My sun parched face and body engrimed by Nature’s earth.
My clothes tattered and torn from living a life of feral freedom.
Despite my appearance there will be a wild primal glint in my eyes.
Telling of my complete and utter return to my primordial archetype.
No longer alone or differentiated but whole, inseparable from the Earth and the cosmos within which we all belong.