frustration pain anger hatred

Contentment joy compassion love

Back in the 1980’s I was trapped, caught between a rock and a hard place. My head began to fill with frustration, pain, anger, bitterness, even hatred.

The key to regaining peace of mind came from studying (with my soulmate) the book by Norman Vincent Peale, published in 1952, “The Power of Positive Thinking”. In these pages, I learned lessons invaluable for a more productive daily life with the strength of faith and peace to sustain me.

I acquired the techniques of conscious choice to reject negative modes of thinking and replace them with positive thoughts, and embrace these new ways with alacrity and gratitude. I acquired the almost magical ability to abandon unproductive habits and replace them with new constructive ways of coping. I doubt even Luke Skywalker possessed such effective tools!

I understood how to create an image of my future productive and happy self, so I could stop wasting my energy on merely being anxious about my need to gear up to change.

In these ways, I quit smoking after 33 years. I retrained to change my career not once, but several times. I began to work on being more non-judgemental, which meant that I could better tolerate and accept without murmur negativity from others in my workplace.

And I welcomed relief into my life when I quit my pointless running on the hamster wheel of hatred.

From the beginning, I recognised the future and the past are devoid of meaning and reality, because all goals, mine and as well as yours, are achievable by a steady focus on the core strengths freely available in massive unending abundance that come from loving to live in the moment.

For the life-affirming gifts I carry in my heart and mind today, after I left behind those days of darkness and fear on the treadmill of addiction to sorrow and self-pity, I am humbly grateful.

Namasté all dear Friends

~ Love’s presence  E v e r yN o w

May you awake to believe you dreamed you were alive

Awake to believe

May you awake to believe you dreamed you were alive and truly know you are

We all come towards awareness of the Being nature of existence from such a huge variety of diverse start points.

Yours is from turning this wood into this instrument of music. Mine is from visualising on blank paper the flow of words from an unseen spring.

The common factor is in the way we ourselves, who are each our own anthropomorphs, are willing to be transformed during the entry into us of these Awarenesses.

Awarenesses they seed in us, and we can begin to observe their inception, their progression into places in us for which we have no precise definition.

And we suffer, are broken open, melted down, and recrystallised in the gradual timeline of the birth pains of every Awareness.

And then comes the dawning of the joys.

The joys, like the risen Sun above the Arctic Circle, the joys will not set any more, as it becomes apparent that there is no boundary and no distinction between ourselves as witnesses of the Being of existence and our lives in the alive living of it.


May your best dreams be rooted in earth, may they network with the sky.

May you live as a dream exists – full of form, light, wonder.

May you awake to believe you dreamed you were alive and truly know you are

~ Love is present E v e r yN o w

¦>At the threshold<¦

¦> At the threshold remember <¦

Every day, many times a day, I stand at the doorway about to close the door. 
In the room is my spouse, my child, friend, acquaintance, friend of a friend. 

It is perfectly possible that this will be the last moment we will be in sight and in earshot of one another, because the life we breathe in and the life our heart beats out like a clock of blood is fragile beyond our understanding.

What words of love, what signs of friendship, what commentary of appreciation can I leave behind me as I close that door?

Every time you take your leave of your nearest, your dearest, remember! 

Remember to bless the moment of parting with a token of your love

Self-love quenches fear

Time spent in little things

{Now – (Past + Future)} = Infinity in Zero

When I don’t allow myself to accept my circumstances, conflict begins.

I put it to you, I have no need to experience frustration as long as my consciencious attention is fiercely focused towards observation of the fruits of the moment, with every one of my senses awake, tuned, alert, receptive.

There is nothing specifically prescribed to concentrate on. After all, where my body is located, it is surrounded by sights, textures, sounds, scents – an unending procession of the external stimuli of Realia!

I, or you, can engage in this close focusing now and then, if we like.

However, when I choose repeatedly to take the time to plunge myself into immersion of the sensory moment, then from out of this microcosm, I may be blessed to receive radical life-enhancements with the power to permanently change the way I perceive the quality of my life.

These are the slow-maturing fruits of microcosmic inspection. The sweetness they bring is so sublime, I overflow with joy and I simply have to share!

I know from my own experience there is an uncomplicated way to release joy and open the floodgates to love and peace, when I recognise that my mental images of the past and the future are illusions.

The distractions of frustration, fear and anger live in the unreal past and the impossible future. These products of misdirected attention are irrelevant and wholly superfluous to human requirements!

What validates this leap into a blissful state, where rushes of love chase away every last residue of fear?

Well, for a start, being intensely nose-to-nose with the absence of time in the flying moment is thunderingly awesome.

Here are the pleasures of non-attachment, where I cultivate my close attention, and it returns intensity of awareness back to me without locking any part of me into what I am doing with my directed attention.

Explanations about the pleasure of being released from the past and the future is not the thing. The thing is to be thankful.

Gratitude is the right reaction. Be grateful for release into lightness of heart. Be thankful for sudden intimacy with the giant world of intuition. Be in awe of the strange new ability to read hearts.

Flow in the moment helps self realisation.

In the moment when a fragment of birdsong triggers my smile, it triggers also my self love. The union of self with self is union with the whole of existence. What other respectful ways of being glad are there than the gladness of humility, awe and gratitude?

~ Love is present EveryNow

Time welcomes patient travellers

Not so

🌹Be patient with yourself.

Unlike the gangsters slugging it out in the movies, once knocked down, we don’t rise to fight on immediately.

We take all the time we need to heal and be healed.

Buy a single cut flower.

Sit at table with it.

Stare at it.

Stare at it, till at length it pipes up and says something back at you.

No joke, it surely will.

Roses smell of no adrenalin.🌹

~ Love’s presence EveryNow


Beneath the cloak

Boredom stems from ignorance of, or more kindly put, from a lack of attention to the expressions of bliss in material form continually manifest at my fingers’ reach, before my very eyes and all around me.

If I am travelling at night, I might suffer from the delusion that darkness contains nothing of worth, and so I do whatever I can to accelerate my removal from an experience I tell myself I don’t like.

What I am failing to do is look up and see the briliance of stars. I am failing to halt my footfall to listen to the awe of silence. I am failing to bring to mind the stories of those lives who dwell in the nocturnal.

Boredom is a cloak whose unwelcome weight, when its onset is detected, stimulates a search for what my senses can detect that fill me with wonder, awe and the very delicious delights of discovery.

Truth: I cannot recall the last time I was bored

~ Love is present EveryNow

Green door

Me my door

Durdle Door? You can keep your Durdle. This insignificant Dorset door has all the excitement without the fame.

Three or four times a year, I like to travel the short distance from my home and come alone to stare at one side of the green door.

This was an entry to a pastoral past. They who opened and closed this door are crystal dust. The trodden green crush of them is bedded in the pigment which flakes with every season’s turn.

Behind this green un-Durdle Door is nothing. Perhaps scratched up parts of dry mouse nest. Maybe remnants of Red Robin and his song.

This is my side of the green door. It is a standing ovation to my blasted green age

Love’s presence EveryNow


“H U M A N”

The war the Brits call “Falklands”, and the Latin Americans call “Malvinas”, was going at full throttle.

Every street newsstand throughout Brazil and beyond attracted its own little crowd of free newspaper headline readers.

The day before flying from Heathrow, I had watched on the telly enormous crowds of flag-waving families and well-wishers giving the British troop ship HMS Invincible a hearty send-off at Portsmouth.

Here I was now in a row of three seats on an internal flight from Manaus, on the Amazon, to Rio. My wife sat in the middle seat. The middle-aged man by the window struck up a conversation with me.

As is usual in Brazil, after finding that I was not an American, this gentleman, who was a third generation German Brazilian, opened up to me.

He praised the Iron Lady for her defence of British territory. Like many people I got into conversation with in Europe as well, he also mentioned Winston Churchill.

I had had to cut short our trip, because I’d caught a respiratory infection in the jungle, and it was wiser to recover where we could get help at home.

Meanwhile, because powerful remedies like antibiotics were available over the counter at the time, I had taken a couple of horse pills on the recommendation of a pharmacist the day before I boarded this flight.

We finished our in-flight meal deep in conversation. I thought it kind and considerate of my wife that she exchanged seats with me so we could carry on our discussion about the War. It never occurred to me she saw the aisle seat as a safe escape route!

I explained to this man I had met by chance that human geographic designations of territory are arbitrary, artificial and are established for economic gain and domination.

I tried to show him how the point of view of Earth from low orbit confirms this.

I suggested, furthermore, he consider how history shows us blood has been shed in conflicts between these hypothetical entities we call nations.

By the time I got to chatting about how modern industrialised slaughter has spilled more blood than ever before, the conversation had taken a louder, adversarial turn.

My new friend took exception to my extreme and culpable lack of loyalty to Queen Elizabeth, Margaret Thatcher, Winston Churchill, my fellow citizens and the Good Lord.

The cabin crew had by then cleared away all the in-flight meals except ours. My wife noticed that the more heated our informal conversation became, the greater the distance the air crew put between us and them.

I am the meekest and mildest of men, more mouse than man under normal conditions. But the horse pills that had cleared my chest, had installed a pacing tiger where my inner mouse used to dibble.

We overflew the Amazon and disembarked to transit at Brazilia Airport. The gentleman claimed his bags to proceed to the exit.

The last thing I remember was my wife physically restraining me from lunging after the man as he shunted his creaky luggage trolley through the Nothing To Declare gate.

Back in Blighty, it is time for the ten year census survey in Great Brington. After this close call in time of war, I chose to write HUMAN in the box for Nationality.