Pond Days

On days that are cloying,
When my ears protest with ringing
When my brain has decided to
blanket itself with a heavy haze,
Blurring my vision
And
Aching my bones...
The Spirit and I agreed
We should sit together 
and watch fish swim.
And side by side there,
just try to be.
She tells me my scattered,
anxious thoughts
Will entice me 
To coil up all my energy
and release it like a spring;
Only to find I become weaker still,
Snapped and broken.

I tell her:
"I'm glad you are ok with weakness.
And I'm glad that's where you work best.
I'm complex like a fractal,
And you knit everything together so well
Even when it looks so feeble and fragile."
So, she sets aside these little pond days for me,
Where we spend some time gazing at the fish,
And I'm learning how to just be,
I in Spirit and Spirit in me.


My grace is enough; it’s all you need.
My strength comes into its own in your weakness.
2 Corinthians 12:9 MSG

Wild Goose

She is untamed chaos
Fierce in her protective gaze.
An enigma,
A paradox,
A joyful mystic,
A volatile conductress.

Surrender to the wild Goose
Melt into her terrible embrace.
She beckons you to cast off from the shore.
Your feeble tin boat bobbing in the wind,
the humming splash of water it's keeper.

Let it float untethered.
Let it drift and wobble.
Toss aside your anchor;
Abandon it, discard it, into the waiting sea.

Surrender to the Wild Goose.
'Till the land becomes a distant haze;
And you are given over to the spiralling adventure,
the swooping whirlwind
Under her Great Wings.
, ,

Enchanted Forest

Deep in the forest amongst leaf, wood and shrub,

There is a place where the light plays tricks.

As if it were a small child finding joy

in hiding things

amongst branches;

And creating puppet-shows

in the shadowy patterns of the trees.

So a story unfolds,

where heroes and heroines spring from the most unlikely places.

Like the reassuring orb of the moon

Like the movement of a grey cloud

Like the distant chatter of a bird.

And then, in the space between moments,

you glimpse something in the corner of your eye

Tree spirits, angels, faeries

(It’s only a glimpse).

And a story unfolds still

Because, even amidst the infinite possibilities

of the tale;

There is a presence in the silence.

Enchanted light and stillness,

Weave it’s transformation, til

It is no longer a secret place, but rather a place of communion.

Even so, a Soul can be unaware of the Silent Witness.

Mistaking the loud stillness of the forest, for solitude.

A lonely journey,

A palpable aloneness,

A hopeless isolation.

But it was just an illusion.

The shadows were playing tricks.

If you listen, the air has this sort of hush you can feel

because it is damp with water droplets (and you are thirsty).

And the scent of the earth are a jumble of woody spices,

and leafy aromas,

which join hands with you

In solidarity for each and every breath.

And not a single leaf falls unknown.

And in every shadow there is a song.

And the Child laughs with joy.

The Room of My Soul

In the room of my soul, there are arched windows.

Made of stone, they crumble a bit.

But the windows frame the ever changing landscape.

I keep an eye on the important details.

As the shadows shift

Day, Night,

Summer and Winter

Are gloriously displayed in their whirling dance.

I can see the broody sky,

and the sweeping hills below.

My Guardian angel like the breeze

hovers over my life.

Ready at my aid, eager to help.

But for now, just sending blessings on my head saying,

“Rest,rest,rest and be still now”.

Could I be this cherished, precious, valuable?

Perhaps, yes!

Though it seems I am only a butterfly with tattered wings.

I find in my doorway a tentative harmony,

A soulful dialogue, a childlike prayer.

Full of hope

Like those Monarch Butterflies

weaving patterns in the air.

Robust little messengers.

The room of my soul,

contains all of the little details of my time here

Woven together, hammered together

Painted and furnished by me

Yet held with miraculous hands.

The Illusion of Independence- a Meditation about Love

We are like colours that collide and form an artwork.

We are like jewels that recognise the stardust in one another.

We see the face of God mirrored back to us.

The eternal truth that is at the core of all great spiritual teaching is to love God, and love others. Love is the supreme force of the universe generating creative power, healing and unity.

I don’t know about you, but when I think about how this can be accomplished in the day to day material stuff of life, I find myself out of my depth. I know it’s impossible to truly love and be devoted to God without loving others also.

I realised today that I was thinking about this in linear terms, or in terms of dominant culture which has essentially submerged all of us into a kind of illusion of independence. But we are not independent, we were never intended to be, either.

We are designed to live in community. All are needed, all have a part to play which goes way beyond just the bread and butter of existence, way beyond vocation, success, failure and finding a niche in life. It operates on an energetic, cellular level. Our actions and thoughts truly ripple out, affecting those around us for better or for worse. We are often unable to see how we affect others, especially when we have blessed or encouraged another human being. Deep is the mystery of how souls intertwine and nourish one another. Think of how plants grow- we can’t observe it happening in real time, but plants do indeed grow. Or how children grow physically at night while they sleep. The changes that happen quietly and in secret are the most profound. So too is that ripple effect of our souls. Who knows what that water will stir up or reflect.

To love others is to live with open palms to the world. To loosen our grip on our own ideas and let the water of love do as it will. We can have our intentions, yes, but we can neither know nor guide the outcome. I see it as a divine alchemy, as we come into contact with other souls in a somewhat random way. Jesus says that when we welcome or serve just one little child (or one small, seemingly insignificant anyone), we are also welcoming and embracing God. Love has a habit of hiding in the small and inconsequential.

My prayer is that this sense of unity and solidarity will wash over the world.

We were not made to be independent..we were never intended to be. There is no such thing as a small act of love, for love is found in the things that the world will overlook in it’s chaos. Love is often found in the quiet, the still, the hidden things