Shining threads

Shining threads

Sunday, 27 March 2011

A testament to seeing with new eyes

The Kingdom of Heaven is a flock of birds spiraling over the market place.

Blessed be the peacemakers - those who synthesise warring opposites, for they shall be whole.

Peace is not the promise but a sword of discrimination to cut away falsehood and corruption.

Love your partner, your friend, your family, your neighbour, your compatriot, your alien and your enemy - each in a way appropriate to them.

What you do not bring forth, in creative acts and bold projects and fruitful relationships and manifested dreams and travelled journeys, will destroy you.

Turn the other cheek, not out of meekness, but out of a strength that is higher than brute force and will shame the aggressor.

Do not worry - it never added a dime to the quality of your consciousness but think clearly and with good reasoning.

Don't be concerned about what to eat or wear but travel a way and meet your requirements along the road. Sometimes they will be given, sometimes you will purchase or request. But don't worry, whatever you do.

Where your heart is, there you will find great treasures, in balancing your brain with your sexuality and opening into a relational space.

Wednesday, 23 March 2011

The paradoxical point/pointlessness

There is an Axis Mundi which both transcends time and space and simultaneously links occasions in sacred communion.

Witness: the American Indians dancing round the totem pole, in honour of their Divinity and its many aspects.

Witness: the awakening of the Buddha, sat under the Bodhi tree, having passed through experimental extremes and now a seamless Enlightenment coalesces.

Witness: the death of Christ on the cross, hands nailed to the two horizontal poles, pointing to sinners (one destined for heaven; the others' fate hanging in the balance).

Witness: the pagan peasants, dancing round the Maypole in an English village, joyously celebrating the rising of the sap.

Witness: The collapse of duality as the Twin Towers fall in New York, after being impacted by planes and the puncturing of the Pentagon.

Witness: The birth of a child, the primal resolution of two beings met in sexual union.

Witness: The sunflower reaching boldly as a mirror for the sun's image.

The sequence of events fan out through the weaves of history - speaking through screens of words to our sense of the overwhelmingly ineffable.

Every moment is alive with possibility - this many-sided fleshy dream groans with yearning and ecstasy and agony.

The laughter of friends ricochets round the same space as the vibrations from bombs which fall across the water.

Nations rise to meet the fulfillment of their promise.

And shadows fall to test the light.

All illusion will pass, burnt by the fires of reality until only the source remains.

Then we shall know the glorious pointlessness of the Divine.

Tuesday, 22 March 2011


A series of doors spiral in a procession before and around me.

Each gives off faint promises but there is no certainty about where they lead.

The routes overlap and interconnect - yet each door has its own particular flavour.

Tantalising - these multiple futures call our names.

'Come here' 'Join us' 'Walk this way'

The carpenter sets to work and constructs his own door.

Wednesday, 16 March 2011

The queen of rhythm

She moved from bank to bank - switching her currency to disguise her movements.

Taut, so taut she quivered.

The cheques bounced back and forth.

Her innocence, radical innocence saw her through.

The police tried to trace her steps but they vanished behind her.

Disappearing into the kingdom of dance.....the queen of rhythm slips away.

Monday, 14 March 2011


10 billion years ago, she wished upon a star. She was that star. Wishing her way through cosmic evolution.

Her sisters. Her multitude. Her family of friends. All star-travellers.

We are their dream-fulfillment. We are the manifestation of starlight in the colours of the earth. Our dance is an on-going realisation of their intimations of immense possibility.

Now she is human. Standing on the curve of the planet looking up at her ancient origins and sending wishes back.

What happens when wishes meet wishes traveling in opposite directions? Back to origins and forwards to now.

The meeting happens in a realm transcending time and space, where dream images bustle and converse, eager to multiply into new arrangements and combinations.

She arches her body back to swallow up the damp darkness of the sky, liquid black broken by fissures of radiance.

Her mind jump starts into a new gear and accelerates out in multiple ways, encompassing vast comprehensions as it unfolds.

'I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish for everything to be exactly as it is.' The prayer has been consummated by the priest of the present and the prize needs no unwrapping, laid out, as it is, in all its wild splendour.

Saturday, 12 March 2011


Some meetings are brief. Some last a life-time.

Some that last a life-time should have been brief.

And others that were brief should have lasted a life-time.

That's what I hear them say but time is such a poor measure. As if longevity has anything of value to say.

The 'shoulds' we impose are only different possibilities of how the picture might have been painted. Only we know why we chose this particular configuration. Experience is everything and consequences merciless but never fixed.

It all depends and the love letters we send in thoughts to our host of associates, companions, the whole cast of walk-on parts, stacked up in memory, say more than outward appearances.

Every plan leads to new plans and every meeting is an event in itself, to be savoured; one of many tripping over one another in a procession of entanglements. Unrepeatable chemical reactions, an incomprehensible web alight with blazing possibility, stories unfolding and interweaving in all directions.

Thursday, 10 March 2011


Kingfishers are already on fire.

Forever flying incarnations of divinity.

Colour splashed and reflected in the river.

Rude oranges that speak the sun in manageable form.

Kingfishers light paths across the sky

that make painters and poets gasp and despair.

Kingfishers are already on fire.

Monday, 7 March 2011

Dangerous hints

She makes dangerous hints,
stepping just a little over the line,
flaunting her secret life,
with letters that can be burnt if necessary.

The coals of her passion only smoulder
in the depths of her eyes,
and she keeps her gaze low,
so I'm left guessing.

In the time between when I saw her last
and her promised return,
I linger in a state of anticipation.
Left with just dangerous hints.
A trail of sparks leading
to what may be an explosive consummation.