Jonathan Livingston Seagull

“They are saying in the Flock that if you are not the Son of the Great Gull Himself”, Fletcher told Jonathan one morning after Advanced Speed Practice, “then you are a thousand years ahead of your time.”
Jonathan sighed. The price of being misunderstood he thought. They call you devil or they call you god. “What do you think, Fletch? Are we ahead of our time?”
A long silence, “Well, this kind of flying has always been here to be learned by anyone who wanted to discover it; that’s got nothing to do with time. We’re ahead of the fashion, maybe. Ahead of the way that most gulls fly.”“That’s something,” Jonathan said, rolling to glide inverted for a while. “That’s not half as bad as being ahead of our time”.
Richard Bach
Jonathan Livingston Seagull

The Seagull Speaks Creative Commons Copyright


Creative Commons License
Original work on The Seagull Speaks by Michael A Wride is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Friday, May 30, 2014

Preparing the bed for winter...


https://www.quickcrop.co.uk/uploadedfiles/Raking%20seed%20bed.jpg

We plant our seeds in the soil and we nurture them with care and patience. We do this with humility and respect. From my own experience with gardening - just spending time in the garden with plants is so therapeutic and it also helps the plants grow. They live on the energy of the gardener who really participates in her creations in the garden.

I have a ritual when I'm watering plants - I consciously imbue the water with energy from my 'healing' hands - it helps the plants and me! I'm a natural gardener. I'm at home in a garden... I've been to Sydney and Berlin and on both occasions spent time in their gardens, rather than inside. In Berlin last summer, I spent a day on my own skiving from the conference in the Tiergarten - soaking up the summer sun, sitting on the river bank watching the water and hiding myself amongst the trees - peace, gentle, quiet, silence, opening my heart up and grounding again - and in Sydney, I spent a whole day in one small part of the Chinese Garden, sitting, breathing, stroking rocks and leaves. Just Be-ing. Bliss.

One of the finest Zen moments(!) that came to bless me was so simple was when I had an allotment in Caerphilly, South Wales. It was November, the harvest was in. I had my pumpkins, beans, potatoes etc all gathered in and I was putting the garden to bed.

I lost track of time as my eyes slowly adjusted to the dimming light, what was left of which was reflected off the hills all around me, like the sides of a crystal bowl. Time flowed on, the light dimmed and yet my perception was that there was no change in intensity of the light - time stood still as my internal perceptions and the external stimulation of my retinas by the reflected light came into balance.

My rake with the hazel handle, that I'd cared for with linseed oil on a rag - rubbing the oil in to the grain just like my Dad taught me and his Dad taught him. The feel of the living wood in my hands. I started gently raking the soil of the raised beds. Caressing them, over and over again with my rake, an extension of me. Loving, blessing the soil, separating out the larger stones from the smaller ones with the rake, a flick and a twist. Occasionally crouching down on my haunches to reach out to flick the soil with my hands or fingers instead, or digging my hand in further - penetrating in to find deeper stones, an organic kind of surgery, meticulous, thorough, patient, kind, respectful - I never wear gloves. I want to feel the soil on my skin and, as far as I'm concerned, dirt under the nails or ingrained in the skin of the fingers is a badge of honour.

There were so many old country people who I knew in my childhood who had faces and hands etched by the weather and the land - in that sense they became part of the land. Dirt under the nails - a badge of honour. But not for them, they just Were - themselves, they were the land and the land was them. A reciprocation of unstated (because it was not necessary) love and understanding.

As the sun set and dusk developed, I was breathing in time with my raking - swoosh, woosh, swish, wish,... change position ... shadows developing, moving, dancing, shadows....swoosh, woosh, swish, wish,... change position.

A Blackbird cries out, that flickering, fluttering startled cry, and I look up from my reverie - bed time for birds flying home to their nests. It's getting darker. I can no longer tell the difference between the end of the rake and the soil..where do I end? Do I end? Where does the rake begin and end? Where does the soil begin and end?

And there I am again, swoosh, whoosh, swish, swoosh... swish, wish - another Blackbird celebrates the end of the day... and I'm drawn further and further into the bed, into the soil... is it me moving the rake or the soil working through the rake to move me? I don't know, but what I do know is that I felt a sense of oneness with that dark Welsh soil. I'm drawn into the bed and I'm dreaming, dreaming of ... nothing but. ...

I Am,
The Bed - She Is my ground,
I am Being through Her
The Air - my breath
The Soil - my lover
The Rake - my hands
Caressing my lover,
Etching myself on her skin,
She opens to me,
I push a little more,
She beckons me in,
Inside her now,
Penetrating her as I move,
Flowing with ease,
In out, In out..
Swish, swoosh...
Her Presence building within me,
Flowing, flowering,
Releasing myself within her receptive depths,
Dreaming of the fertile future,
She thanks me,
And I'm grateful to have been a part of this love.

We'll be 'making hay',
Happily harvesting
When warm Father Sunshine comes back next Spring

But now, stillness and silence and lying still on the bed on my back looking up at the remaining flecks of colour in the watery, western sky. Until darkness comes. Silence. Peace. Stillness.

I leave the allotment and the raised bed behind, walking slowly, reverently home.,knowing that my work is done, for now at least. That my moments of Be-ing lost in the soil will remain in my mind and heart - winter memories to draw upon during the long dark days.....but, dreaming of Spring.


image from https://www.quickcrop.co.uk


Saturday, March 8, 2014

Better




Snow Sheets




Bed sheets, snow pleats,
Pristine white serene snowscapes,
Flowing, flowering, enfolding, unfolding drifts on your skin,

Draped across pillows piled high,
With memories and plans,
Dreaming within your succulent white bed flesh.

Your hair stranded, ski tracks stretched on the iceways,
Pulling on threads connecting life in lives fully lived,
Pushing the boundaries of past and future,
Finding meaning, meandering, illuminating,
Immanent with potent branching possibilities,

Whiling away hours now snow shoe walking,
Sweet, soft, sweating frosty breath,
Sweet, soft, dancing frosty breath,
Mesmerised in the music of moon light bright.
Excited, spiralling, crystal flakes,
Choreography of love into form

Your flurrying, scurrying mind thawing now,
Metamorphosis of ice into clear water,
A stream of stretching foaming wonder,
Cascading down mountain sides,
Caressing rocks, calling, creating a choir.

That sings to me...

And I hear your call...
I am pecking, pecking, pecking breaking out,
A heart-shaped egg cracking open,
Slowly, slowly,
Patiently I waited,
When I asked for you to call me.

And now I hatch and fly,
Crossing lakes and hanging in the icy blue sky,
Carried on clouds,
I enter your room on a warm wind blowing in,
A chinook melting snow
Together we warm our inner organs of perception.

And now I kneel before you on your growing bed,
Indents in your sheets,
The heat now emerging within our murmuring hearts,
I gaze along with the moon upon your skin.

Fractal patterns of feeling, firming up and expanding,
You reach out to me......
You are opening me up now, expanding welcoming
Pulsating, perfect passion now in the pen in your palm,
Stroking, strolling weaving wisdom threads along your leaves,
you are bringing forth a fountain,
An explosion of ice firework,
Spreading shards of showers,
Patterns glistening across your skin,
Melting now,

You reach down to your soaking self,
Stroking, stoking the heat between us
Dampness at your hands,
Moving to your lips,
You taste All This as you lick your finger tips
And embody my salty kiss within.



written January 2014

 

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

When No-Thing Matters

Someone said to me recently, 'nothing/no-thing matters; i.e. when 'no-thing matters', when we don't worry too much and don't try to force things, all possibilities remain open/available, since they only crystallise into actuality (matter) when we focus on them..so, focus on negative outcomes, worry and those will 'matter', become solid or actualised immediately and restrict the chances of a positive, beneficial outcome. 

In effect, we have the good grace to allow God/All That Is to choose with us, in the wisest way, from the maximum number of possibilitiess available. We truly participate in the choosing from that 'spacious present' and then we don't limit ourselves - when 'nothing/no-thing matters'!





Sunday, February 9, 2014

To Embody a Poem

Take some time and space to be with a poem. To bring it to life inside you. The voice of the poet then becomes clear, develops and evolves, and indeed becomes alive within the reader. The reader is the epitome of the active listener - of active receptivity and open hearted-ness. 

The meaning imbued by the poet in the words, and in the words not used, is transformed within the reader into new meaning - emobodied beautifully. The active presences and the active absences combine in new ways. 

The tensions are created between the words and the context within the reader/recipient, which is the unique personal history of the reader. A resonance develops, new meanings arise. And the poet and the reader spiral up to new heights of understanding together entwined in body, mind and spirit, which has nothing to do with time and space.


Saturday, February 8, 2014

Bogoroditse Devo (S. Rachmaninov)

Thursday evening's Anthem at Evensong at Trinity College Chapel...
Bogoroditse Devo (S. Rachmaninov) here sung by the Australian Voices...









Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Soul Mates





I drew the above figures on the beach nearly 30 years ago!

Has anyone else noticed that a lot of soul mates are showing up in our lives at the moment?

It's taken that long to figure the following out about it!!! LOL!!! :)

Although a friend had a much simpler line: "True love : - peace, tranquility, harmony, life x"

Here goes......

"A yearning for harmony, connection, peace, contentment...simplicity, clarity, balance, openness, warmth from the gentle Sun.....no rays that reach out and grasp, push, stifle, just a gentle release of Love/Light to be welcomed and heard by the open hear(t)s of all creatures, including the soil/soul mates on the beach.....

They are outlined by contrast....their black lines define them - they are not the same, each is unique - without their boundaries, they would not Be, and they could not therefore Do...

..... their Love is not fixed in one place ... it is always travelling to see(d) new places...it is dynamic, always changing, developing, processing, perfecting, but never reaching perfection.......they are the same, but different.... distinct, but not separate....

.....they have clear white within them....and they are surrounded by brightness....they reflect on the divine white light of Love/Light that imbues all things, including them, in its sacred dance of togetherness....for Gravity is Love....and Love is Gravity...maximum freedom to the parts, coherence to the whole...minimum effort, maximum grace.....for all that they receive they give thanks....and are gr(e)at-ful...for they are great! And they are Full!

The cool of the Sea....The Sun See(d)-ing the Sea with Love/Light. And ripples, waves of gentle energy...on/in the Sea...to their right... sparkles of star-like light upon which their eyes can ling-er, whereas the left side is calm... they are cradled at the centre point...the still point....between the worlds of giving and receiving.....

Of Male and Female polarities... Adam(ant) on the right... Eve(n) on the left.....the balancing of energy between the soil/soul mates.........embracing each other, affection too...between them...tenderness...resonance...coherence...a gentle kiss....an overlap..an embodiment - a Synergistic Energy eXchange.....

They're on the beach, so they are grounded too...kneeling on the grains of sand - each particle, like them, different/unique, the wholeness of the beach within the multiplicity of each grain and each unique grain of sand an essential participant in the wholeness of the beach...

They kneel with sacred reverence.....a mutual prayerful co-creation.....caring for each other, connecting at their knees where they meet the ground, for their souls are the fertile soil from which they spring,... and at their hearts, where they hear(t) each other...without words.... and they hear(t) nature, in which they are immersed, and nature also reveres, cares for and listens to them...and they trust and they know...

And the polarity of Heaven and Earth, above and below......the open, clear, bright spacious sky is the presence above, reminding them that they also can allow for their goings apart again...their to-ings and fro-ings....the space between them to See/Sea more clearly after their coming together, so they can always come back to the ground out of which they grew and to which they will return when they die...for "in the midst of life, we are in death".....

Then the rain will come down and wash the remaining physical particles, the remaining grains, of their bodies into the sea, the fertile Sea, who See(d)s all the possibilities for new growth and evolution within her... and so a new dawn begins...and the cycle begins again as the Sun caresses her way from East to West across the bounteous, benevolent Sky."