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.

Sunday, December 6, 2015

He Wonders

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He wonders what this is?
This Organism, this Being,
They have created from above,
That they have invested with their energy and love.

Something new and beauteous has emerged,
From the depths of who they really are,
They have found themselves,
Each in the eyes, ears and heart of the other.

No effort required,
Only love revealed,
No fear anymore,
Just infinite flow.

He sees the way ahead,
Her radiant eyes are glowing,
Lighting the paths,
Of his to-ing and fro-ing

In the midst of his darkness,
She hears his anguished call,
She reaches out to break his fall,
And her stars shine within him.

He is caught in the net of her wonder,
He spirals in the greatness of her galaxy,
He basks in the heat of her sun,
And the the threads of his heart
 Are gently teased apart and torn asunder.

Friday, May 1, 2015

Armenian Wheel of Eternity

We are ALL 'parts' of the same whole and the whole is fully in each of us. We are The same One expressing differently through each of us. The same but different. There is multiplicity in the unity.

We are all connected and resonating with our soul mates and soul group and the collective of all humanity. When one heals, the others benefit too. Especially when the healing is regarding particular specific issues like the challenges of these beautiful new soul connections and the problems of holding on to old outmoded templates.

Hard to let go of the friends from the past who have served us well but inhibit are movement forward. All is change. All is process.

Like sand slipping through fingers we cannot fix our lives in place or grasp at the straws of the past.

As above so below, as within so without. Harmony begets harmony. Yes, we will create waves, but it's how we surf those waves. We can harmonise with those waves and let them bring us gently to shore, while enjoying the ride! Experiencing what it is to flow with life and trust in the wisdom of the universe coming through us. For we are all free and abundant expressions of the universe!

And the way forward is through deep heart felt connections that bring us more freedom and abundance. Only then can our creativity fully flow. We grow. 

We evolve. The universe grows. The universe evolves. An eternal wheel creating itself ever new as it revolves in perfection!

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Each Moment

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Each moment flows through me,
And creates itself anew.

I let the moments come and go,
And through my breath I am renewed.

As the moments spread out and grow,
I become more Whole.

I feel the moments flow,
Like water droplets in a mountain stream.

Each a dream flowing to the sea.
In each moment,
I am creating more of me!

Sunday, March 29, 2015

Ask Yourself

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Ask yourself, 
Are you on the path you want to be on?

Slow down, sit still, listen attentively,
Pay attention to what the world has to say.
Hear with your heart. 
Feel the wisdom that yearns to find expression through you and within you.

Take care of each precious moment.

But how long or short is a moment?

Each moment contains the 'past' and the 'future' - both are present within it,
Each moment has moment-um! 
Each moment is in motion, 
Each moment contains the energy of emotion to propel it along.
Each moment is a present - a gift to cherish 
The present is full of possibilities - infinite gifts.
Within the space where freedom is - the freedom to choose,
Without restriction, without friction. 

There is an ease, a flow
A way of Doing through Being present to what is now.

This is the essence of love - the interconnected web of all things,
Which is a Life,
Which is a Universe.
For each life is contained fully in each moment.

In some respects, a life is only a moment....
But, what a moment!
Each life is a Universe.
And what a Universe!
For each life, like each moment allows something new to appear in the world,
Something unique.

A life, like a Universe, is a moment,
A movement,
A creative exploration of possibilities...
But, which one to choose?

The balance between action and acceptance,
The paradox of making changes,
While accepting the way things are.

The art of learning to truly live,
To truly love, to truly create.

Friday, May 30, 2014

Preparing the bed for winter...

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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.

Saturday, March 8, 2014


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