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Sunday, 28 June 2015

This Morning

it rained

so close I could touch it
at the same time
so far away

being

in two places at once
full of emptiness
more than enough
for many lifetimes
packed into
a drop so tender
bittersweet

smiling I understand
and give thanks.

Thursday, 25 June 2015

What power do I have?

Considering in the daily discipline
the role of power and my misuse of it
mindfully concentrating on the breath
and realising
that I am unable to control my breath -
I am breathed every minute
of every day
and yet I take for granted
this miracle of life...

Wednesday, 24 June 2015

The Story Box


A Wednesday morning story

You have no doubt heard the story of why the sea is salty? How the salt grinder fell out of the boat and sank to the bottom of the sea a still grinds salt. Well today something very strange happened. I lost the Story Box!
I know I put it on the bookshelf last night after taking it to read with Sam and Sophie, but blow me if it seems to have been moved in the night.

Captured by the Factors, those beastly types who don’t like stories and grind out only facts. What a poor world would it be if only constructed of facts?
Anyway I checked the facts and the facts were that I was coming up to bed and thought to bring the box upstairs as I wanted to leave the kitchen side clear and so took it upstairs. There seemed to be no space on the bookshelves themselves, so I lodged the box on top of some books.

A quick look round and the box hand mysteriously stood itself up and placed itself next to The Celtic Book of the Dead. What a surprise. The big question is how did it get from lying down flat to standing up during the night.

I opened the box to find out…
and that’s when I came upon the hidden doorway into faeryland, right there on the bookshelf. What I discovered and what happened then would fill a thousand books but just let me tell you that when passing through the doorway my life changed forever.
But first I had to ind a key - more than that I had to find a way to make myself shrink to fit through the door, and that’s another story…

Tuesday, 9 June 2015

The Good Path at the Crossroads

I'll have to make it up
too long ago to remember
have to re-member it now.

She was loved by all the villagers
dressed impeccably
flawless skin
generous to a fault
always asking after the health of their children
their old folk.

Providing extras for table at village fetes
a loving mother and wife.

Perfect.

And yet there was something.

Her daily ride took her over brook and stile
that day though wind whipped bramble
surprised her at the turn
off she fell and lying there feeling pain
seeing blood in her mind's eye
understood things differently.

She did not lose the sight in her eye
but despite the efforts of the surgeon
bore on her cheek the scar of entanglement
for all to see.

From that day the villagers loved her the more
blest her and made her their own.

Perhaps perfection is hard for others to bear
and leading with our wound as bad.

How shall we find the good path at the crossroads?
What ancient voices wisdom guide our step?
Who is to know and how discern
voices that ghostly whisper
Come, follow me.










Monday, 1 June 2015

Slight Changes - New beginnings.

For a month anyway
re ordering
re structuring

"The night is passed and the day lies open before us"*

When I make a space
a break in time
somehow come into the presence of that which is entirely other
I
as it were
come back to my senses
become aware of who I am and the presence.

The falseness and apparent contrived nature of
awkward space
liminal place
provides opportunity to to interrogate
not only how I come into the presence
but how the presence
comes into my presence.

There's some sort of negation taking place as we each find a chair
sit facing each other
eyes meeting
mood changing from 'I to thou'
back and forth
in the ebb and flow of difference and oneness
poured backwards and forwards the mystery unfolds
the river flows
breath becomes one
stillness is followed by silence
the pendulum slows to a standstill.

Difference fades
I hear the chortle of the stream
flowing
telling its endless story.

* Common Worship - Daily Prayer