Old world wisdom

The wisdom of the people who live close to the earth and who live by the measure of the sun and the seasons chooses to speak with words in a particular order and of an order of gravity seldom if ever used by city dwellers of today.
What words they say and how they say them are surprising to us. They catch our attention with their disarming plain factual truths. The words they speak often shine a light on our everyday with a brightness that brings us directly back to our perceptions of the everyday and bathes the dull way we live and speak in a refreshing glow of solemn beauty.
Their vision is lucid, because their needs are met on paths of least resistance connected to their own survival. And their need to survive with honour and with dignity is something they express and celebrate without pride or vainglory.
They regard themselves as one group of beings among other kinds of beings, both animate and inanimate. For these peoples, it is self-evident that they live by the exact same laws of the sanctity of life as each of the other groups. They apply to themselves rules that life itself lays down and they do not regard them as either better or worse, but valid according to their patterns of need.
There are the nomadic people, the people in our cities who exist in the unseen margins, the subsistence communities, those groups who still live with minimal contact with the world of the twentieth century. All of these are people who preserve ways of seeing and saying which are remarkable for their lack of artifice, embellishment, overtones or undertones of meaning.
They speak words in harmonious combination, which I, a lifelong city dweller, recognise as expressions of a reality without distraction and interference, refined always with compassion, dignity and above all humility by the immediate imperatives of daily living.
And I willingly concede that in my daily life I have lost touch with much of their valuable experience. Whenever I’m privileged to hear their speech, I gratefully receive the clarity of expression, the innate wisdom, and the suddenly obvious commonsense in the logic of thought.

“Benedictus benedicat”

“Benedictus benedicat”
I am 100% certain of my own death. I am ignorant of the time when I will die.
So now what choices are left to me?
Quietly stated, I can choose to open my heart to love my fellow journeyers and to honour the life flame which expresses itself as the one I call me.
I can turn to face up to myself, and sharpen and hone my acute awareness of my body and my mind with every breath and heartbeat.
I can close my inner eye and in the dark I can feel the hearts beat of all my loved ones – family, friends, of every single one whose path has crossed and touched mine.
I can give thanks for choices without end.
I am at peace in a storm of fiery life.
I am overflowing with gifts none of which I created, but all of which arise from the mystery of peace from which my compassionate heart flames into life.
It is all entirely sufficient.
I want for nothing.
Love is present
I am ready

* To dust we return *

* To dust we return *
Not only are we not alone, but we are never alone. It takes one full stop, hurtling from off the end of an unregarded non-Earth sentence, to remind us.
We are inseparably conjoined to events far, very far, from our earthy self-interests. So keep good company. Befriend the stars, respect their gassy dusty origins. From dust we come…





Reflection on a drop of dew!

[Photo: Magic Vial Charm – Deep Forest]

There be sadness. Yes. True.

Inside a tiny crystal bottle,
no larger than a wish in solitude,
sits an antidote, a cure-all, an elixir!
Can you see the lights that seem to shine inside?
Like the blackest night sky,
whose stars are contained
in the reflection on the surface of a drop of dew?
No dream, but purest imagined interstellar rocket fuel!
All you do is remove the stopper
from your sacred phial!
Tremble to taste!
Take a deep long draught.
Take a long deep draught of “Love to Live”, by EveryNow
~ Love is present EveryNow

*I am like the oxy-acetylene torch*

* I am like the oxy-acetylene torch *
My one and only trip in the midsummer of 1966 opened my eye to the unlimited raw power that is expressed by living organisms and through their ways of being, the spectacular raw beauty of that power.
It was a single gateway experience which gave me a view into reality that ordinarily is ordinary.
Only look and see. For me ordinariness is a veil that signs me toward a transcendental reality, permanently a-flame with the constant coalescences of transient life.
It’s so very directly described in the thundering cadences of Dylan Thomas’s ‘Through the Green Fuse’, and it’s shot through William Blake’s ‘The Țyger’. It is too, contained in the loveliness of e.e. cummings poem:
‘ may my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know ‘.
My mind ordinarily is prone to drag me through thickets of shattered glass thoughts. I have the ability to allow the tortuous undergrowth to melt away and let the tearing sharpness backflip into the void from whence it came.
On an instant, “Pop!” I am like the oxy-acetylene torch… ignited!
In such moments, there is nothing standing between my passion and the experience of my passion, I see my heart is on fire with flames, beautiful fluttering sun-orange flickering flames which consume nothing
~ Love is present EveryNow

Yoga vision

Yoga with Relaxation
I had an unbidden vision at one of my first Yoga classes during Relaxation. The vision did not seem associated with an arising thought, nor did it come out of some other passing image.
I saw a flame. It was silent and not large. It had the shape that a fan-tail gas burner will make. The flame was not highly coloured, and it was not bright. It surprised me.
It made me want to smile in recognition. It was love. It was the flame of life.

My life