A most insidious form of fear

Posted on Oct 25, 2018 in Spiritual living

“A most insidious form of fear is that which masquerades as common sense or even wisdom, condemning as foolish, reckless, insignificant or futile the small, daily acts of courage which help to preserve man’s self-respect and inherent human dignity.” – Aung San Suu Kyi

I’ve been noticing more than ever in recent days how much fear there seems to be circulating at this time, and how closely that fear is bound up in the extent to which we’ve handed over responsibility to external authorities.

What you wish for; the power of intention

Posted on Sep 27, 2018 in Spiritual living

When you wish upon a star by Sabinerich

Be careful what you wish for! That’s the traditional message of the Nine of Cups in the Tarot deck, and it’s referring to the power of your thoughts and intentions; wherever you choose to focus your energy, there it will surely flow. At this time of year following the Autumn Equinox, when our natural wisdom calls us to slow down and turn within, I’m thinking of that adage with a wry smile.

At the beginning of this year after having had the Christmas season to settle into a new home and find my feet,

The greatest of all human blessings

Posted on Aug 9, 2018 in Spiritual living, Uncategorized

Maybe it’s because I encountered death early in life that it holds no fear for me.

I was only nine or ten when my school friend died. Jane had a heart condition that meant she was physically weak and fragile, and most days she would have to stay in the classroom at playtimes. I would often choose to sit inside with her, keeping her company. I remember her pale and delicate heart-shaped face that always reminded me of a fawn; those huge eyes that suggested age and wisdom far beyond her years. When she died, I wrote a poem at school about my sadness and loss that also helped me to understand and come to terms with what had happened.

Strumble Head

Posted on Jul 25, 2018 in Poetry

We seem to drift out onto the water,
Towed by our gaze to anchor on the thin horizon.
Our stationary vessel nestled on the clifftop like some overgrown gull,
A modern-day crowsnest for these land-locked sailors.
Surrounded by a second sea of long-stemmed grasses that dip their heads in prayer,

Holy communion

Posted on Jun 25, 2018 in Poetry

Soft spikes of pink yearning toward the sun.
Floral spires raise my eyes and soul to Source,
Their silent bells still sonorous and deep
As the playful breeze turns campanologist.
This is my church. I worship here and now at
The high altar of nature, beneath a vaulted nave
Of heavenly blue and angel-feathered sky.