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...

Image from:

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


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, 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 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 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 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 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."

Fox Spirit Animal

Fox spirit animals and responsiveness

When the fox appears in you life as spirit animal, it encourages action and quick, swift moves. You may be called to take action in a way that shows your adaptability and ability to move quickly through obstacles and resistance.

Being inspired by a fox totem, you can work at developing the sharpness of your mental skills: Analytical intelligence, power of deduction, observation can come into play more powerfully in how you deal with daily matters or bigger projects.
The spirit of the fox may also imply that you are sharpening your physical alertness and responsiveness.

Fox spirit guides and deception

The fox is known for sneaking into homes and getting away without being caught. Because of it’s characterized by its cunning ability, this animal has acquired the image of trickster in a number of cultures.
When the fox appears in your life, it may indicate that you need to pay attention to people or circumstances that may be deceiving or tricking you into going down a path that does not necessarily serves you. This spirit animal may call you to be more discerning in relationships, whether it’s in business or friendships, or in choices you make for yourself.
Following the fox totem wisdom, look for any area of your life where you may be cunningly led to do something else than you would in all reason do. Use discernment in your choices and actions.

Fox totem wisdom and the ability to find your way around

The fox as a spirit guide offers good teachings about getting around obstacles instead of confronting them head to head. You might find that you could renew or be smarter about how you deal with areas of resistance in your life or projects.
Having the fox as spirit animal, you may be guided to learn from lessons in a way that may feel like you are being challenged or sometimes even being tricked. To make the most of the fox totem wisdom, keep a strong sense of humor and be smart of the lessons you learn.
The power of the fox is a great support to develop your ability to find the sharpest and smartest solution to any problem. Call on the fox guidance when you feel lost and need help finding you way.

Fox spirit animal and nocturnal habits

Foxes are most active at night, but also are day animals. By affinity with the animal totem, you may like to be active and bring your creativity to its peak during night time as it gives you the space to be closer to your natural state.
Working with dreams is a particularly useful practice for those who have the fox as a spirit guide. The affinity with the night activities supports the connection with the dream world.

Fox animal symbolism and traditions

The fox is often associated with the dark side of magic. In a lot of cultures, seeing a fox as you start a new project or endeavor is a bad omen. In some Native American belief systems, this animal represents the practice of negative sorcery and the dark manipulation of magic powers.
The fox has long been considered as a witty, quick and intelligent. In some European traditional tales, he’s the character who outsmarts humans and other animals alike and gets away even in the trickiest situations.

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Finding God In All Things

...This is an account of an experience I had in January 2014...

"I'm in total, total my whole body. Full body bliss from head to toe. I'm literally shaking with the intensity of it. I can hardly type. I am overcome with such deep feelings of love and connection. Now I know how sand feels when it is melted in the heat of a furnace to yield crystal clear glass. Perhaps to make a crystal bowl or a goblet from which to drink nectar. And I yield to the flames. I yield to the metamorphosis, the alchemy.
On the way in on the train, I was looking out at Dublin Bay. The crystal clear mill-pond-still-waters. The Stena-Line ferry floating along the surface towards her port, gliding with grace and ease. What a difference to last week's tremendous storms.

And then an older silver-haired gentleman gets on the train and sits diagonally opposite me, across the aisle. He takes out a small scarlet-covered booklet. Is this blood red cover a reflection of the fire at the heart of the furnace I am at the centre of?

And the title of the book? "Finding God In All Things".... My God! My God!... In All Things.

For the first time perhaps, I really get it, I really see Him, I really feel Him. Tears come again. Release of pent-up emotions. Water flowing from my eyes down my cheeks like streams. But, no chance of quenching this fire inside the furnace....

Thank God!
My God!
In All Things!

.....including me :) "

Friday, January 17, 2014

Purcell's Ode to Saint Cecillia

Purcell's Ode to Saint Cecillia where he glorifies the music of the universe in motion....

The full piece

And part 6:  

"Thou tun'st this World below, the Spheres above,
Who in the Heavenly Round to their own Music move."

With thanks and appreciation to Mayesvara das.  


2. Hail! Bright Cecilia, Hail! fill ev'ry Heart!
With Love of thee and thy Celestial Art;
That thine and Musick's Sacred Love
May make the British Forest prove
As Famous as Dodona's Vocal Grove.

3. Hark! hark! each Tree its silence breaks,
The Box and Fir to talk begin!
This is the sprightly Violin
That in the Flute distinctly speaks!
'Twas Sympathy their list'ning Brethren drew,
When to the Thracian Lyre with leafy Wings they flew.

4. 'Tis Natures's Voice; thro' all the moving Wood
Of Creatures understood:
The Universal Tongue to none
Of all her num'rous Race unknown!
From her it learnt the mighty Art
To court the Ear or strike the Heart:
At once the Passions to express and move;
We hear, and straight we grieve or hate, rejoice or love:
In unseen Chains it does the Fancy bind;
At once it charms the Sense and captivates the Mind

5. Soul of the World! Inspir'd by thee,
The jarring Seeds of Matter did agree,
Thou didst the scatter'd Atoms bind,
Which, by thy Laws of true proportion join'd,
Made up of various Parts one perfect Harmony.

6. Thou tun'st this World below, the Spheres above,
Who in the Heavenly Round to their own Music move.

7. With that sublime Celestial Lay
Can any Earthly Sounds compare?
If any Earthly Music dare,
The noble Organ may.
From Heav'n its wondrous Notes were giv'n,
(Cecilia oft convers'd with Heaven,)
Some Angel of the Sacred Choire
Did with his Breath the Pipes inspire;
And of their Notes above the just Resemblance gave,
Brisk without Lightness, without Dulness Grave.

8. Wondrous Machine!
To thee the Warbling Lute,
Though us'd to Conquest, must be forc'd to yield:
With thee unable to dispute.

9. The Airy Violin
And lofty Viol quit the Field;
In vain they tune their speaking Strings
To court the cruel Fair, or praise Victorious Kings.
Whilst all thy consecrated Lays
Are to more noble Uses bent;
And every grateful Note to Heav'n repays
The Melody it lent.

10. In vain the Am'rous Flute and soft Guitarr,
Jointly labour to inspire
Wanton Heat and loose Desire;
Whilst thy chaste Airs do gentle move
Seraphic Flames and Heav'nly Love.

11. The Fife and all the Harmony of War,
In vain attempt the Passions to alarm,
Which thy commanding Sounds compose and charm.

12. Let these amongst themselves contest,
Which can discharge its single Duty best.
Thou summ'st their diff'ring Graces up in One,
And art a Consort of them All within thy Self alone.

13. Hail! Bright Cecilia, Hail to thee!
Great Patroness of Us and Harmony!
Who, whilst among the Choir above
Thou dost thy former Skill improve,
With Rapture of Delight dost see
Thy Favourite Art
Make up a Part
Of infinite Felicity.
Hail! Bright Cecilia, Hail to thee!
Great Patroness of Us and Harmony!

Words by the Irishman Nicholas Brady, 1692.

Thursday, January 9, 2014

This Morning

Here is a podcast of me reading this poem:

sunrise over Killiney Bay

This Morning,
I lost myself in the sky. 

Expanded, clear, empty,
But immersed in fullness. 

Swimming in a diamond candle lit cave,
Pervaded by deep pools of blue wisdom,
Within music.

Flowing forms like water,
Taking the shape of trees,
And fusing up into the lightening sky,
Dappled by red tendrils of flying lightforms,
Enriched by blackbirds,
Dancing on roof ridges,
For fun.

Jan 8, 2014: As I was leaving the house this morning, the sky was amazing.. I really opened up to it and allowed it to immerse itself in me for a while..a deep dark blue in the west and a subtle light blue undergoing slow, but steady dynamic change to slightly lighter all the time...then some clouds flecked by the beginnings of the tendrils of sunlight growing from beyond the horizon....

It took my breath away. ...

...And then when I got home here after dropping the kids at school, a blackbird on the ridge of the roof of the house, then joined by another one.... they chased each other all looked like great fun... Beautiful! 

Tuesday, January 7, 2014


Here is a podcast of me reading this poem:

I'm a bird locked up in a cage, 
In a season when all my dreams fade.
I'm a King shut up in a tower,
Looking out on a land over I which I have no power. 
I'm a lion curled up in a cave,
Afraid that I'm not quite so brave. 
I'm a man floundering in a drowning sea,
Thinking how circumstances have overtaken me. 
I'm a skater slipping along on thin ice,
But you know?
I've already fallen through these cracks twice.

This poem is an old one written sometime 1986-1990

Monday, January 6, 2014

The Ragged Bone Man

Here is a podcast of me reading this poem:

The ragged bone man comes,
And ragged does he stare,
On faces black and bleak,
With sweat and pain and tears.

We run to meet him,
Smiling, blank, and cry,
His memories haunt,
His eyes,
Are dark and deepened pools of blank,
In which we swim.

He leaves and loves,
Or does he?
To wave us, "Goodbye".

Or beckon us, "Come!",
To his land,
Where the ragged, bony, scragged men
Lie bedraggled and broken black,
In ditches.

And dear old time wastes us,
Ragged, scragged, black.

He knocks patiently,
Until we leave,
With him,

This poem is an old one written sometime 1986-1990


Sunday, January 5, 2014

Lost Youth

Here is a podcast of me reading this poem:


They all laugh, 
At nothing,  
Wonder at themselves.  

Why don't they know? 
Why can't they see? 

They are young and lost, 
Frightened by things, 
They don't understand.  

Clinging to themselves, 

Written during a period of homesickness, while in my Hall of Residnce at University in 1988

Saturday, January 4, 2014

Starlit Message

Here is a podcast of me reading this poem


If only more of us bothered to think,
Made the effort to realise,
How much more there is,
To what we see. If only more of us took time as a helper.
If only we were to stare up at the stars, 
We would realise how insignificant we really are. 

All of you who are full of yourselves, 
Look at the sky on a starlit night.
Then you will realise,
That we could all disappear, 
In just one of those flickering pin holes up there.  

That is why there are stars,
To convince men of their mediocrity. 

But why are there men? 

Sometimes I wonder.

This is another early poem 1986-1990   

Friday, January 3, 2014

I am the Sea

A podcast of me reading this poem is here:       

I have slept in my frozen bed for millennia,
I have been present with the stillness in the silence of my dreaming.

For eons I have stretched myself across the shore of this bay,
A million waves have lived and died within me.

I have smiled upon and pounded the pebbles,
And I have shimmered and danced in the sun and the sand.

I have plumbed the depths of chaos,
And I have looked for love flowing within my heart.

My dreams have flowed up towards the surface of my skin,
And I have become crystal clear again.

I have waited patiently for you to appear,
And now I see your silhouette on the horizon.

You are walking gracefully towards me,
I reach out to you........

We meet,
We touch,
We caress.

You slowly undress,
And enter me. 

You warm me and melt me,
You swim within me.

I welcome you,
I surround you,
I caress you.

 I am opened,
I am filled,
I am complete.

I am the sea.