in this cross legged attire;

calves layer their curves

over protruding knees and

my palms are laid in an open

embrace; in such brief moments;

breath overtakes; the pulse of life.



watch your breath

sink into your flesh;

as shells lurch their

openings; into a stream

of sun-softened ripples.


as you deter your breath

from meeting your steps;

dismiss the scurry of hurried

movements; and allow the cord

of your knotted spine to defrost.


17/4 12.33

at the tinge of pain, my mind flung itself into a spiral of panic. thoughts, initially steadied with belief and fastened by internal security; launched themselves into rapid darts. they pin-pointed and directed themselves at anything present. as they fled across my mind, positioning themselves at sly areas. their motives were concise; purposefully aimed at the feeble parts of my mind. calculated fears, insecurities, worries, simple thoughts; i imagined would come and go. but none were unexpected; i was only ever left waiting.

it wasn’t so much the actuality of the experience, the physical pain. but rather, the anticipation of it all. the misery, was sitting in faithful assumption; of it’s eventual arrival. a moment spent, was drenched in the unbearable weight of groundless thought. of course, it wasn’t unreasonable all of the time. there would always be reason for fear, always a space well carved, and made cozy. my mind would seldom (if ever) cease to dispense the thought that fear, was not here to stay.

so, i am trying to sit with it. to sit with fear, despite it’s claws piercing my flesh; deepening without thought or remorse. this is my attempt, at embracing this violence, not with warmth nor welcome; but simply space.  a space to be, and time; to ease.

14/4: thoughts

what is of use, will eventually need to be replenished – should you wish for it’s existence to continue reigning, at your hand. your weekly grocery hauls at the farmer’s market, water for the luscious fern; sitting by your windowsill. the water kettle, left unheated overnight; should you require boiling water for your nightly cuppa. the blown bulb in your bathroom, warming the atmosphere with it’s ochre light.

all that has been touched, or simply left to be; evaporates with time. it is absolute wonder, how what remains unused, is thinned into steam; transversing bare seconds in the air. their purpose, begins to lose it’s opacity. layers shift and slide; combining themselves into luminous slabs. muscles, not exercised or maintained; begin to lose their strength. at rest, they knit and knot themselves into bundles. clasping themselves together a little tighter with passing days. it is, at times straining to latch unto a belief; that all impulses, co-exist with strict functions and intent. a plate, to eat from and utensils to eat with. art to be framed, and appreciated upon observation. thunder in a rainstorm, for geographical reasons. is an object, or an incident – ever there to simply; be.

i suppose, it might be the same with humanity and our experiences of pain, suffering, joy, resentment, fear, loss. does any emotion exist in it’s state; simply because it does? sure, these feelings stem from something larger; an experience in occurrence or having occurred. but – what is it that determines the internal formation of our reactive emotions? why do we feel the way we do, about certain circumstances; and differently about others. is it within our capability to, redirect this emotion into feeling another? it became clear to me over the years, it seemed unlikely and inhumane for one to feel joy in place of misery, in a situational loss. the way we are built to react, is dependent on the nature of circumstance. there are biological and medical reasons surely, and due to my limited knowledge of which; i should not delve into.

my reflections are based on a peep into our innate wiring. our spiritual development and building an inward attitude of acceptance, first for ourselves and gradually radiating outwards.



this moment

there was often an inkling; an old nagging feeling that my life was not being lived to it’s extremities – to it’s potential. i’d watch was others around me swung with sturdy grace from vine to vine. as they plunged their bodies off unknown cliffs; and gurgling water – they seemed so ready, to be swallowed whole.

people my age, they began settling into seemingly steady lives, with secure office jobs providing them with beyond their basic necessities. nestled in a cradle of warmth and comfort, there was little they seemed to lack. gowned with an array of garments fit for only the prime and proper. there was also the peculiar scent of pretence, they wore loosely around their necks. which made me wonder why; since everything on them had always been so well fitted, so flattering; moving across their every nook and cranny.

matters had never appeared more put together, than it did; on the surface. in sheer distance, the blurring of ideals wept into complete disillusion. at a glance, there was little to consider about a person apart from what we bore witness to. judgments secured, solely from one’s physical endowments, oblivious to any internal glitches.

how different our perceptions would be, if we knew the hidden parts of them; worn scars running down their insides. their journey to where they were, their brewing uncertainty for the future. their longing; what they pined for. their losses; their lives once shaken with unbearable grief. the dark bits of their soul, despite an outwardly expression of containment and content.

hold on to that desire of being awakened through this passage of time. our time on earth, is not infinite but certainly carefully measured by our maker. remain grounded in blind faith; of this sufficient span and your abilities and gifts, to make good of what there is. heed on, with a spirit of gratitude for all that is well and smooth. yet, do not attach yourself to these moments for they are passing as we speak. be here, for this moment. present, and awake.




wild call

the call of wilderness; an urge to be set free. dissatisfied with the mere shuffling of houses, not a place to be called home; but one that provokes within me the comfort of settlement. allowing things to simply be, as they are. to fall where they are strewn; decided upon a gentle toss up, into rippling air. before, they make a wild dash into permanence, soften your hands into a blooming lotus. wide, open and steady. ready for an awakening. no matter the pain you will deal for it’s arrival. your willingness and grit is a dear trait, definitive not of the outcome but essential, in moulding your experience of the suffering to come.


softened fists; ease them into a state of prolonged pliability. mend what your mind seeks to amend, and where your hands find opportunity; make difference. develop internal wisdom to discern what should remain, and what can be altered. meet your capabilities, as you would a dear friend; allow the rest to be guided by our universal flow.

grant your body, the space to follow it’s breath; heaving soundless sighs, and inhaling even in the thick of air. as your lungs expand, tight with air, manifest all that is well; entering your being. with every out-breath, bow with gratitude for the hidden strength it requires, to allow what does not fill your spirit; to be released.


dinner ghost

the slippery presence of a child, remains in an unmoving position. a pause, both gapping and emptied over piled years of absence. my disappearance was no mystery; but instead a  golden ticket of goodwill and gratitude, on my mother’s own part. as for the sundays that fell by coincidence, on special occasions; my role was simply to abide, visible in presence, no matter how unwilling in spirit or heart.

soon, although slowly; i am allowing myself to seep out of this unnecessary task. i am beginning to learn, my existence at the dinner table is simply a comfort to the guilt, these others hoard from years of neglect. their hands, flee from sparks; at the possibility of catching fire. allowing myself to gradually relearn the practice of releasing my grip; i latch unto filial responsibilities too fiercly; and let loose, much too seldom.