Just a writer's journal

As much as it is sometimes good to simply 'get away' it is also so very good to come home. I have travelled a little. Some journeys were longer than others, and whatever the welcome 'out there' I was always glad to be home. Long journeys lasting longer than two weeks and hiraeth would surface and grow until I felt as if I would suffer if I did not find my way home again soon. I wonder if I could ever emigrate to a foreign land, although I did come very close to doing just that in
2000 - having said that, it was to be for four years maximum. Canada is the closest I have come to feeling 'in the right place', and to this day I feel I have left a piece of my heart there. On my 'bucket list' is
a wish to return to Canada one day and to visit places and see people I have kept close and wrapped up in my very soul to this day.

I have had the privillege to meet some wonderful goodhearts (as I like to call them), and indeed I owe a great deal of my learning to many of them. Not all journeys have been simply visits to other lands, often they have included inner journeys, or spiritual paths I have followed, encountering profound wisdom from elders that I wish the world would not ignore. Anyway it is that time of year when my mind turns to them, and I make a note to buy those welsh woollen socks and a few warm things to send for winter solstice.

As I am feeling somewhat overloaded with information these days, I am
reluctant to start writing about worldly things. At the moment I feel weary with talk about wars, conspiracies, and all those things that are important to understand. As always I am reminded that it is time to
withdraw a little and return for balance with my spiritual world. I have been 'out' in the world for quite some time (as happens) and it is time to reflect, and start applying my spiritual mind to things. Balance is essential to dealing with the world and what is happening.
It may well be that this journey to my spiritual teachers will simply be a silent experience, unshared in words, but experienced. It may well be that I have something else to learn, but I do know that it is time to
balance up the material world and the spiritual world. Too much of one and not enough of the other is not good balance

While I ponder on my next line I will go boil the kettle and find the cookie tin (after being away am wondering if I left any? - hope Spa is still open if not!) brb....
Just a thought - (excuse me while I munch away - yes found a cookie!
If life was like a cookie how would it be? Would we all agree it was a 'good' cookie? Would some people complain that it didn't have enough of this or that, or would some say they don't like cookies at all - there'd be vegans and dieters and all sorts. Cookies taste delicious to me - heaven with a cuppa. Even something that tastes good can be a
bone of contention in life (I think). Is there a cookie that could appeal to everyone? Now the next thing to ask is this - are cookies good for us? I mean take out the butter and the sugar what's left?
The good stuff? hmmm... If life is like a cookie do we have to take out all the nice stuff to be well and healthy and happy? Are we capable for being happy without the sugar and the butter that makes them so delicious? What would be good for us then?

Can the human race be happy? Take a way wars, struggle, and so on - can we live in Utopia? Would cookie heaven be enough? Duggh... I need to
get a life roflmao!

Having been away for eight days, this old terraced house is icy cold, although I have had the heating on for a few hours now. I look at my new curtains trying to like them, but the truth is I do not like curtains and they are adorning my window now because I thought they would make this room a little warmer. I have my warm bootie slippers on and pjs/dressingown and am tempted to put my gloves on! Am getting to look like some hermit with candles burning, some incense, and books everywhere, teetering on the edge of side tables, littering a corner of my lounge, one or two in the kitchen and well a trail of them leading to the bathroom. Eight days of spam mail has been thrown in disgust into
my now familiar blue bag for recycling, and one or two addressed to people who do not and never have lived here!! I mumble "NO! I don't want a Boche whatever, AND NO I DON'T WANT BLOODY INSURANCE!" Sigh...
other mail can wait - bills!

My little dog has been staying with a friend and I have missed her so much! Tomorrow I go to get her, and I will have to brace myself against a wall or sit down as she comes tearing around the corner like a guided missile!! She is a good teacher - she teaches me that I have a lot of work to do on loving unconditionally. Her qualities are enviable - she is quiet when I am not too well, rests beside me when I have a need to just 'be', never complains when her food is late, does not bear a grudge when I'm grumpy because of a night of pain, and always shows me that I am loved I have a lot to learn from her - and sometimes when she is sleeping and so tiny - I marvel at this living being that she is, breathing away softly on my lap, or at other times flat on her back and snoring like a bull!! (not that I've every heard a bull snore but it is very loud!).Sasha has everything pink - pink bag to carry her in with a bling heart on it, pink blanket, pink toweling coat to put on after she's had a bath and a new pink cushion for her bed. The first thing she will do when she gets home is go to each of her things, including her toys - just to make sure they are all there Love her!

Anyway enough of my ramblings - am going to do an hour meditation, some Reiki (which I have neglected of late) and start the journey inside.

Love and light to all you goodhearts out there ... it is good to be home

xx

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

While searching for some cosmological evidence of my existence, or perhaps more appropriately the origins of the human race having begun in some far off galaxy, I came across this little ditty which made me laugh....

Once I was a tadpole going for a swim,

Then I was a frog with my tail tucked in.

Then I was a monkey swinging in a tree,

But Now I'm a professor with a P.H.D.

- - - Tadpole, frog, and monkey man,
- - - All glory to nothing for the plan-less plan.

It is very late, and the arena where mind, body and soul fight daily is littered with the debris of battles - some won, some lost, some left until tomorrow. Birds have long sung the last note to the sun, and called their young home, and as I prepare to settle into my own nest, their feathery dreams soon come to an end before mine begin.

My body is tired, but my spirit clings to some half formed ideas, and mind to some unfinished business that really some higher part of me knows is not that important in the great scheme of things (assuming there is such a thing as a great scheme?). Sage fills my room with its peaceful smoke, and another thought flits across my inner vision like gossamer wings of butterflies, that I must harvest more for this peace. Mixed emotions tumble and rise and fall over faces, people, places, past and present, and these things weary my eyes from the horizons of tomorrow. Cliches of wisdom are left hanging in the air, like spiritual carrots dangling on a string called 'hope'. I berate myself for a cynical view of the things I have at times been so grateful for, and those cliches that have got me up off the floor, and kept me walking. A blessing for every one that walked me from despair. Maybe its time to sit with elders again, and listen to the words that are after all, like the first born, closest to spirit.

Morphius comes smiling at this stubborn child who has always riled against sleep! There is so much to do and think about, and well .... isn't sleep an interference with more important things? Why do we sleep? One of the great mysteries to me ....and dreams.. why do we dream at all ... You see!! How can sleep be so demanding when such great questions need answers! Wish dreams could be like menus, and orders placed before eyes close and the dust of ether falls from the keeper of the sleep. I would order tonight an hour of eating chocolate (which must be the only way to keep slim), perhaps another hour of discussion with my spirit teacher (and my friend for many years now), a tour of the nearest galaxy perhaps, a quick look at the pyramids, or perhaps a visit to Delphi... so much to choose from .. great menu though

Nos da (goodnight) good hearts .... may you dream great dreams also ......

Sunday, May 01, 2005

It is May day, and mad dogs and Englishmen dance around poles with ribbons - or something like that, while I am happy in my house of words here, listening to the evening song of the caller bird. I call them the caller birds because at a certain time of the evening, just before the last rays of the sunset disappear in a kiss behind the hills, this one bird clings to the highest bough and seems to call the others home. I imagine always that he calls the younger birds, who tarry in groups, flirting with female birds of similar age, and showing their flight prowess like daredevil pilots in a blue sky of chasing wind and breeze and even great dips and loops. Then the caller bird is heard, and they head for home at a sauntering pace (if one can imagine a bird sauntering?) but once out of sight of the female birds, they race with hearts beating fast, to irate parents waiting in their nests. As one lands, mother bird cuffs him with her wing and chastises him for being late!

Sounds familiar ...

Anyway, it has been my usual day of this'n that, with its sprinkling of gems, such as my nephew's great smile when he received pocket money from Grandma for mowing her lawn, or the hour I have spent reading and re-reading some of the greatest writings I have ever known, and proud to know the author, which is one of my treasures in this life. These tiny moments of pleasure are tucked away in my heart's pocket for all time. Villagers settle down for the night under the slate gray roofs of cottages huddling together in tiny streets, or leaning against each other for support. The young hopeful hearts plan repair, and a nip and tuck vision of their castle when they have the money. Until then they will make do with a lick of paint, and hope that the debt they chase with the bank manager next week will be given to them. Sigh....something wrong that we all have to 'pay' so dearly for a descent dwelling.. I always find it more than odd that we are expected to buy a dwelling. Maybe we ought not get into human rights issues here, or perhaps it is self evident to those who follow my thinking...

Merlin's grey cloak has appeared, and he draws it swiftly now across the sky. There is a distant sound of thunder, which means rain will come soon. Perhaps he will favour us with his starry cloak later when the dragon has fallen back to his sleep, and I will search again for Cassiopea in the skies that the ancient ones gazed upon so long ago ...

Ever felt like a spiritual hypocrite? Sigh...I have amassed over the years so many things I'm supposed to have learned, and in truth, the theory remains as clear as ever. Walking my talk - that's another thing entirely, especially these days. I could quote parables and spout rhetoric all night about the sowing and reaping from the things we do and say, I can talk about words as seeds and deeds and consequences and so forth and so on. Walking my talk - that's the bit that is getting to me today.

I think of all the lessons I have learned, yet the hardest one to master is 'anger'. Today so much dogma walked over karma and if there is a wrong way of saying it, whatever it was, I have done it. I should wash my throat chakra out with soap!! My attempt at humour is merely to try and avoid the ache I feel that whatever has befallen me, has led me sometimes to stray from the things I know better. Some will say "you are only human", and while this is true, we are able as human beings to practice, if only sometimes, what we preach - this is human too. What is my aim in life? To be the best human being I can be. Well, I have clearly got a long way to go. No wonder we need eternity!

Anger makes us abusive - the very thing we hate receiving. Such anger can come in loud harsh screaming words, or quiet harsh words of sarcasm, destructive criticism, the big silence, the name calling, wit that lashes you like a barb, or simple irritation and annoyance with tuts and huffs. Anger has many faces.

I wish with all my soul that when life brings me challenges I could sometimes, if not always, let Buddha, or Christ, or my higher self, breathe through me, so that I can react as I know I should. My guide always told me, I would not be carried over such hurdles. I would be encouraged towards my own strengths, and supported in my efforts. In the same way I am told, right now, that I have the ability and strength to overcome anger.

Perhaps we all at some point, hurt those we love and care for deeply. I would choose not to harm, at all times. It is not enough to say my life right now is so stressful that I can't help it, and beg them to understand. There is only so much we each can take, or have to take in this life, and expectations of unlimited sufferance in others is not acceptable.

I must awaken the Buddha/Christ/higher self/Creator, within, again and again and again, and use anger in its right place in an appropriate way (for there is such a thing too), and remind myself I would be wise to attend to my own business therefore rather than concern myself about the behaviour of others. There is enough work to do on 'myself', which can be far harder than pointing out the work others need to do on themselves.

Life brings with it many obstacles which challenge our energy and our grit. It forces us to dig deep sometimes for compassion and understanding, acceptance and change. Somehow our spirit asks us also to deal with some things by sacrificing our ego and self opinion. I can keep to this road, as long as I remember that we are travellers, that our time on this earth is limited, and we own nothing but ourselves and leave with nothing but the 'self', and all that it has become. Love and knowledge may be the only things we can take with us if we are lucky enough to have dealt with anger and hate here before we leave for home. I do not want to carry anger or hatred with me, and I think that I must bury this worthless and futile stupidity now - I have no ignorance to hide behind like an alibi.

Transcend anger - this is my mantra until I can do so

, May 07, 2005

THE CHARITY EVENT

I watched him all night, almost transfixed by the attention I had to the details, drinking in every bit of what he looked like, as if I had never seen him before, fearful that I would not see him again, that time was short, for all of us. Wish that I had had the wisdom of these years long ago to pay as much attention. Brother of mine, you are like a bright shining star, alive and smiling, your babies around you, your loving wife beside you, as I wish, as all of us wished for a year and a day. We all love you. Two hundred or more people came and hugged you, and showed how much they love you. Two hundred or more that felt the fear of losing you for a year and a day and every hug begged God never to take you away from us. You are much loved brother of mine.

You sang, and so many cheered and came alive again because of you. And a torn community came together again, and sang together again for you and for the love of you. Men hugged tighter than ever as did their women, and for one night time turned back the clock and we remembered what we are about here in this tiny village. No one wanted to go home, and laughter spilled out onto the bridge once more and the river shone under the moon, happy and dancing its way home too. The stars were out - Merlin wore his best cloak tonight, and I made my way home under this mysterious sky, and heard the singing from the top of the hill echo from the valley floor, one beating heart, the ancient drum of a nation.

And you, my lovely brother, brave warrior for us all, gathered your kinfolk together, all ages under one roof, and six foot rugby men that have battled in the muddy fields for Wales and the glory of the sport, wept and held you. And we all stood together and knew we were all related, one family. We knew who we were again, and what we meant to each other.

You are alive, and I watched you, and held our mother's hand as she fought to be there just to see you live.

Two hundred and more came and those who could not get in stood outside so that you knew how much you are loved.

As always it is left to the ordinary folk to try and find the money for such important things, and they dug deep tonight, and did us proud. The unit that saved your life will be pleased. A blessing on the gifts tonight and my people.

Monday, May 16, 2005

It is 9am or thereabouts, and I am sitting listening to the birds fussing around outside in the big old pines. Sleepiness stings my eyes yet, but the aroma of coffee promises to kick start me any minute now. It is a soft morning. A gentle warmth hugs the air and falls on the land like a blanket.

My friend is visiting me today, and I have spent the last hour hastily removing clothes that are waiting to be ironed (and wait they will - I shoved them back in the washing machine), plumping up cushions, and just generally removing signs of a life that is filled with clutter, projects and half read books, pieces of paper with scribbled notes and ideas, and several canvases - some finished some half paintings, some needing inspiration - one day. Sigh...I move things from one corner to another as if it makes a difference. A bird sings out as if to say her nest is neat and tidy because she gets up early, the tip of her wing pridefully patting her feathery head no doubt!

I stretch my limbs and yawn - one of those yawns you think is never going to end and my eyes cross as I start to panic that my jaw might break! I contemplate toast and pad across the room, groan my way down the rickety old staircase and make my way into the kitchen. Two thick slices of fresh bread are clunked into the toaster and witha flick of a switch the heat comes on. Soon the smell of toast fills the air and I hear the familiar 'ping' of the toast popping up. Buttered and honeyed I consume two pieces like a heathen wondering if Mrs.Stepfordwife Bird can smell it. Bet she hasn't got a toaster in her nest! Aha!

I hear her sing again, this time she enchants me. How can such a small creature have such a beautiful voice, and toaster or not, my song is not half as sweet as hers. I see her fly, her wings picking up a warm air pocket and she does what I can never do except in visions. She swoops over the chapel roof and heads for the hills. Perhaps she will pass grandfather hawk on the way and I send my thoughts to her that she gives him my love should she meet him over some meadow green, sprinkled with buttercups.

My friend telephones - she will be late, and I say no worries, 'take your time'. I have a vision to follow for a while and I am in no hurry to leave it as I swoop over the green meadows and skim a sea of tall grass, with warm sunshine on my back.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

I understand.....

Why you wait until darkness falls, and bless the 24hr availability of the supermarket. You leave when others are climbing stairs, slipping between sheets to sleep (perchance to dream as Shakespear wrote), or just reading for the company. You go when no one you know will be there to see you limping along slowly, sweat oozing as your heart pounds with anxious thoughts, feeling alone and empty, slightly disorientated by the bright lights, a waking surreal dream, your hair lacking lustre and hurriedly brushed into no particular shape or form. You stare for a long time at things you do not need, lightbulbs and plugs? But I understand.... that at that moment, you are battling a thought that haunts you, a dream lost perhaps, a worry that you will never never be the same again, never move the same, look the same, feel the same. Whoever you have been is buried so deep inside a mound of living, of battles lost and won, questions never answered, fractured heart, things you wish you had said, not said, not heard, and a growing fear of things that may not have meaning beyond that which we give it.

I understand... you lose faith sometimes and your confidence is diminished....and life seems hopeless as you keep asking 'why' ... and kindly ask those ( who try very hard to help), to withold the old cliches of 'ships coming in' and 'clouds with silver linings'. You know all that ....but you are not quite sure why they don't seem to fit right now, and why you are so lost.....

I understand......

Monday, May 23, 2005

I had thought to talk about Norway and the city of Oslo this morning, but for some reason my mind, turned its attention towards a group known as the Bilderberg Group. Now, there is nothing new regarding the 'concept' of such a group, and some of the greatest analytical/political minds have alluded to such ideas, and with a keen sense of smell - talked of 'rats'. It is still widely believed that if one smells a 'rat' there usually is one, and most of them do desert sinking ships!.

Ever had your attention rest on an issue and not really know why, but on some intuitive or perhaps even psychic level, you believe there is a reason for this. So with some sense of there possibly being a reason for thinking about the Bilderberg Group I sit here, like someone waiting for the next train, surrounded by hustle and bustle, the odd tannoy noise of traffic outside, my eyes fixed on the railway bend as if it will hurry the train up.

Bilderberg.... the name rolls off the tongue, or in this case rolls off certain neurons, and then suddenly, another thought, this time of David Ike! I once sat through a 9hour lecture this man gave on his conspiracy theories, for which he has earned a fair income, and influenced many for one reason or the other. I won't go into the latter because I will rant for just as long as Ike about "who" is influenced and "why". Suffice it to say, his ability to "not urinate" for nine hours, or pause for rest still impresses me. I once had the bladder of a camel, and could hold my water.... I was sure I could go for days in any desert without having to fill up! But I think Ike took the prize for deliberate urinary retention (although it occurs to me that he may well have been sporting a catheter underneath his boxers? But I digress......). It was difficult sitting there for so many hours, things began to blur after two of them, and eventually it became hard to keep my eyes open. Overkill.... never works!

Ike's lecture was as verbally impressive as his books, but in each instance I felt overwhelmed by noise at the end of the day, and I still get the same feeling when reading his work. ( I have a considerable capacity for verbal diarrhoea myself but even Ike surpasses all this). My thoughts are thus... "well what's new Ike?"

Conspiracies are hardly new information, and one generation of conspiracies is perpetuated or altered and replaced by the next generation. David Ike would have at least had some clout with certain individuals and perhaps even had them to 'think' about what's happening in the political and business world, until that is, he introduced his Reptilian theories, then I guess his work became yet another characature of real life. He reminds me of Picasso, and without wanting to offend any fans of the latter, I believe he laughed all the way to the bank! In the same vein David Ike too laughs his way to the bank and lives a jet set lifestyle built on conspiracies.

It is interesting however, that some of the links he makes do seem to demand closer scrutiny. So back to the Bilderberg Group....The Bilderberg group, an elite coterie of Western thinkers and power-brokers, has been accused of fixing the fate of the world behind closed doors. Indeed our own Priminister Tony Blair was a the last meeting in 2004. This group consists of people who occupy the highest positions of power in the financial and political world.

Politicians, bankers, corporate shareholders, industrialists, strategic thinkers, newspaper owners, and so forth, all meet to discuss the fate of our lives, and their names are never noted down on any minutes (so they say).

Venues for these meetings are kept a secret. Well some would say that is essential given the amount of prominent figures attending who could be bumped off at the flick of a switch etc. There is no known official website for this group so its hard to look it up... you can try (let me know if you succeed).

Such secrecy is of course a great breeding ground for conspiracy theories, the ultimate one being that the fate of the world and our lives is in the hands of the Bilderberg group, who ultimately seek power and riches at the end of the day.

Conspiracies exist such as those referring to Yugoslavia, and that leading Serbs have blamed Bilderberg for triggering the war which led to the downfall of Slobodan Milosevic. The Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh, the London nail-bomber David Copeland and Osama Bin Laden are all said to have bought into the theory that Bilderberg pulls the strings to which national governments show obedience. Of course the problem with ignoring the possible ravings of conspiracy believers is that there does seem to be enormous secrecy surrounding the Bilderberg Group, and that if such powerful people do gather together for discussion, the rest of the world should know about it surely?

A former journalist, called Mr. Gosling (lives in UK) runs a campaign against the Bilderberg group.. he has suggested (as I read it) that leaks from a Bilderberg meeting in 2002 include the first ever mention of the war gainst Iraq.

Those in with the 'in' crowd, and invited to the Bilderberg meetings would say that it is run in 'privacy rather than secrecy' and that it is merely a place for discussion. Well that may well be good enough for those wanting to keep things private and secret, but for me at least, it is not sufficient an excuse .. after all I participate in the world, I live here and I have the right to expect freedom of information.... do I not?

Of course the conspiracy theory of an elite clique running the world is not new.. and anyone who understands human nature will also come to expect such things as the existance of elitist cliques. We only have to look at the history of the education system in the United Kingdom for example, to see how these elitist cliques and classes come into being and survive. They are the tinker royals, those who took by force, subjugated nations, and destroyed wherever possible their identity and language, autonomy, culture and traditions. The excessive ego that seeks power over others, will seek to control and manipulate...such groups are born from personality disorders, dysfunctional backgrounds, and those who have been easily corrupted or misled. Those who enter the political/world wide arena with an altruistic passion for the rest of humanity are soon snuffed out or removed.

Thus the world may always be?... and when David Ike crosses the river, together with all those who seek to illuminate us, new conspiracies will arise, veild in misinformation, half truths, scurrellous dealings, and shadowy figures. I continue to believe however that it was a HUGE mistake for Ike to refer to the ultimate conspiracy being the hidden agenda of the Reptiles amongst us...come to think of it, I always thought my Latin teacher looked a little strange, and that it certainly wasn't human to brandish a long cane which he would swish through the air, or rap the desks as we chanted amo, amas, amat, amamus, amatis, amant .....(repitilian language?) ruling us with terror tactics.... mmmm now I begin to see....I think?

Does Cogito ergo sum still hold water? How would we know?

Thursday, May 26, 2005

The land bursts with heavily laden boughs, and I spent a gentle moment watching the cattle amble into fields, young birds chasing each other through a blue sky, and hawk dancing circles across his hunting ground. In the field horses pranced and made a thunderous noise as they galloped near to the house. I ambled up towards them to watch, silently wondering if they were aware of me. Perhaps it was the apples I had in a bag that drew them close, and I was relieved that they did not gallop towards me, but rather slowed to a trot and then a slow walk as they approached me. They know its apple time, and that I have forgiven them for eating my young trees which I planted last year. They simply stuck their heads over the fence and ate them all... oh well!

So, apples were eaten, and I left them with a stern warning not to eat any more of my shrubs. They looked at me as if to say , well don't plant them so close to the fence! Fair enough I thought.... horse's wisdom is quite logical of course. It was a good day, and the sun was gentle and warm on my shoulders with its shawl of sunbeams. I longed to do so much, noticing this and that needed attending to. I miss gardening, and I returned to a time when there was not enough daylight for me to work with the earth, and I would be called in to the house when the stars were out, or during summertime, when the nights were hot and balmy, we would sit in the garden and I would light the whole area up with secreted candles, like faery land The stars on merlin's cloak would be spectacular and I would weave tales of dragons and wizards for my young nephews, as they munched on jumbo sausages in fresh bread rolls, and we examined the night of a zillion diamonds. Candles flickered in secret places, and larger ones lit up our faces in a golden light, and I can see the smiles so clearly now it brings me great joy to remember.

Morning dew on summertime grass, grandmother spider's web glistening with droplets of sunkissed jewels, a ferral cat still curled up under the growing fur tree, too tired to see the early bird catch the worm. The quiet of the morning before engines started, and people began their day on busy roads and motorways. I would sit on the stone seat I made under a copper leafed tree that sprouted tiny pink flowers every May. The coffee would taste so good there, and the early sun rising from the east would have a gentle heat.

And winding through the garden from head to toe was the stone paths I lay, crazy paving curves and bends into secret areas I had created. Each stone had once been part of the small outhouse of this tiny terraced cottage which was built in 1860, and I would not let the builders remove one of them from the land.

Stones know where they are from, and should never be moved I feel...

Strange how a gentle memory can restore such a strong feeling of life inside one's heart and soul, and I had forgotten until now, how much I love the earth.

It is good to have gathered such memories for my treasure chest, and as simple as this picture is, it fills me to brimming. I am lucky to have had this experience to treasure and keep for all time. I hope I make good memories for myself in the days to come ....

Blessings......