Posts tagged spirit

The Flames of Truth

In the flames of truth

Ash litters the way;

Falling as shadowy motions,

Stirring in the depths.


The perfection of whole moon

Draws tidal sap to the within,

To the crescendo of beating hearts

And shortening breath,

As craving ecstasy melts within the peeling bells

Of finite love.


In this hidden stream

We trace the mystical;

A clear vibration, a fearless dawn,

A plaintiff lullaby in the clutches

Of earthly beauty.


We are revealed as the force of passions

Incarnate, far from origin,

A species of finite seekers

Well placed in the void of night.


Reveal yourself!

Open to the sense of unity

And eternal moods,

Stirring the formless coils of supreme


We are close to the quaking muse

But cannot dream her graceful countenance.


To enter the heart, as naked as before,

With the courage of a dragon,

Feeding on our narrow horizons

And transcending instinct.

Fit to give ourselves to the fire

And lie in peace amongst the flames.


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All that space That dark That white light that comes

All that space that fills chaos black And white light so full and seamless (dreams on the dream-filled dreamer)

And to what in all this do I cleave to?

All space that begins and ends with this pen Lights out and smoking gun pipes And the splintered nature of oaken peace floats And the castaways cower In desperation towers

All spaces filled with red In red love In love In roses In thorns and hectic resonance In shapes and numbers blank pick a spiral to fall into Pick doubts to hang from The Nile is descending and kneels before

All things that revolve and emanate a melody From the frequency of a lost souls waltz (The Sphinx) Rising and falling as one born of nothing a small ripple of delight In the heart of a seekers lost raga Faces painted for the play the colours dripping All severed

All mind returns Embrace the illusion whole And swallowed up what remains Barely seen to resonate a life in stagnant shallows

Lustful of every apple that grows in Saharan soil Enacting this material philosophy Masks of wistful junk and oceans dry

The angels rebel With no heroes for our temples And no magic left to try

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To Come Undone

I have a wealth of time, I have now.

I am rich beyond imagination; I see,
I hear, I speak,
I feel and think; eat well
And sleep; drink wine,
Drunk on love and my cosmic muse,
Vibrant in the focused sincerity
Of an honest fool.

I am ever free to dream and always, almost,
Close to release.
Making commands of light,
Making my way along the pathways of experience,
To be delivered, eyeing the ear of corn
And the passing boatman’s song.

Out of the smallest parts
Of what I am,
Comes a sense of something more refined, already risen.
Where I may alight and speak of unspeakable
Beauty and revel in the parts
Now hidden,

There the immensity of being shrinks,
Where I may yearn to come undone.

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An Almost Infinite Library of Inspiring Words and Images via friends at Spirit Science and Metaphysics

Today, I sit here, my head immersed in cyber space via this wonderful little plastic portal of mine (which I bought in Manila for peanuts) just beside the midday kitchen window, festooned in colourful flowers, a rampant aloe plant, its tentacles reaching for the sky, and perfect spirals drawn in wet crayon by the ever lovely Jane.  Above are amulets collected from climes further East of here (or its that the far West?), a mobile made up of coloured welsh glass, fairy lights and the silver/ slate grey light that brings life to these verdant green hills.

So, I sit here, legally high on coffee (some stimulation for the biological mass that has long been part of mystical reflection or just plain old pondering), listening to Touareg’s chant and clap under deep Saharan skies, near a watermelon and the patterns of wax in last nights candle, whole almonds and a small wooden Buddha (from a market in Thailand).  A photography of a wise (is there any other) Bull Elephant stares back at me from the wall, a carved white dove and an ancient looking painting of Shiva and Parvati, nursing an orange Ganesha as a tiger sleeps by their fire, a human skull balances on a copper urn, they drink milk from a clay bowl, deep in a cave.

……this is ground control, this is a not too distant cymbal chiming, this is fresh air passing through, this is woolly slippers on cork floor, this is the prism, the wonder and the joy of being, in a cottage…………..AH!  The crunch of an apple (sometime)…..

I sit here in a form of cosmic union, effortlessly unspeakable and rapt in fascination, viewing the below images and quotes from friends over on a Facebook page named ‘Spirit Science and Metaphysics’ and feeling grateful for the bounty of this vision and the immutable beauty to be found there within.

I step outside to breath in a deeper nature, smelling damp earth and the musk of heather, our hawthorn tree is flowering and in it my sight diffuses to witness gods dancing and laughing in the patterns of its weathered bark, and at sunset, the way the potato plants sway in no breeze draws me deeper into a crystallised state of a rapt twilight wonder, fixed on the fluidity of natural perfection, all moves in unison and the universal dance goes on and on.  On eternal bliss, I teeter, that which incarnates wherever the whistle may blow and that tickles me pink.

I see our cat lying below a wooden bench, stretched out like superman, seemingly oblivious to the busy bees that flit about the courgette flowers.  I feel these thick rock walls and know that they are breathing too.

So here we have it, the modestly epic consequence of caffeine and keyboards….

The internet is so many things, a channel to titilate the mind, a window to more enlightened states of being, a web of connectivity that transcends all boundaries, the saviour of the human race from destructive tenedencies?  How we wield this tool is all important, it has awesome powers.  With the right application/ intention it could create a profound sense of oneness which will spread as we discern our own truth, that which abounds and unifies within all the passwords and profusion of information.  All these tangible ‘access codes’ to the ‘mysterious’ doorway of self discovery.  So real, so immediate, so simple yet ever evolving and illusive.

I now immerse myself in these digital streams, this river of driftwood seeking, like a rock, my mind falls into a pool of almost infinite knowledge (PLOP!), my intuition whisks me where I must be going.  Quite a trip through the wormholes of cyber space, deeper and beyond!  Its all richness layered with greater richness, dissolving as a sugar cube in a cup of freshly brewed chai.

The secrets have been laid bare, the instruction manuals are all there to be used and abused; in black and white, green and red, image and word, all old and all new, westernised and easternised, they just need translating into our living, breathing, thinking form.  The mind, ours free to re-wire and tamper with, wipe clean and leave it that way.  How wonderful!  What a gift!  What a glorious conundrum.

I ask myself, “am I being mindful when operating this little plastic gadget?”  The internet can draw me into a space which is the polar opposite of a meditative state, if I can in some way align the two, I have a fruitful internet session and incredible things begin to mingle and meld on the screen.  This is exactly what is happening now.

Gloriously conscious in this state, vibrant for a time in the richness of being, free to contemplate an end to knowing as a white butterfly passes.

I have surely expressed enough.  From my window to yours, I wish all things love, peace, happiness and a deeper sense of something else stirring their soup.

A humble wish, that you enjoy (in-joy!) the below as much as I did when reading through them.

Namaste fellow turtles and wanderersX

“A mind is like a parachute. It doesn’t work if it is not open.” – Frank Zappa

Trying to be happy by accumulating possessions is like trying to satisfy hunger by taping sandwiches all over your body – George Carlin

Imagination is more important than knowledge – Albert Einstein

“Matter is energy (light), whose vibration has been so lowered as to be perceptible to the senses. There is no matter.” – Albert Einstein

“Many people, especially ignorant people, want to punish you for speaking the truth, for being correct, for being you. Never apologize for being correct, or for being years ahead of your time. If you’re right and you know it, speak your mind. Speak your mind. Even if you are a minority of one, the truth is still the truth.” ― Mahatma Gandhi

The man who has no imagination has no wings. – Muhammad Ali

Gandhi was once asked: “What do you think of Western civilization?” “I think it would be a good idea,” he replied.

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” – Friedrich Nietzsche

Live Love Meditate Realise


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Alone on my wild island

Standing stone on top of Snowdon

Standing stone on top of Snowdon

Alone on my wild island
Edges awakened each dawn,
I stray a quiet path of discovery
And adore my jagged shores.

Alone in this wild love
Open to the seasons of joy,
Pure nature speaks, open wilderness creaks
Enriching such transient soil.

Alone in my wild cycle
Conditioned by unconditional force.
Why this solid seed?
In the oceans of forever thought.

Alone in the clay of my ancestors
Their wheeling rhythm a distant croak.
I strive to live to noble ends
And please the star filled smoke.

Alone in the wildflower thicket
It’s blossoming heals the trail of fear,
Unbidden, I am offered to invisible winds
Dancing patterns in clear dark.

Alone in my wayward spirit
That which guides my inner voice.
Aware of my shadow side
That which radiates delight.

Off the Rrhyd Ddu path, Snowdonia

Off the Rrhyd Ddu path, Snowdonia

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The Divine Image – William Blake

Full moon on Himalayas, Kalpa, Kinnaur Valley

The Divine Image
by William Blake

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
All pray in their distress;
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is God, our father dear,
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is Man, his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity a human face,
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.

Then every man, of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine,
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.

And all must love the human form,
In heathen, turk, or jew;
Where Mercy, Love, & Pity dwell
There God is dwelling too.

William Blake

Bright Kinner Kailash, Kinnaur Valley, India

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