Thursday 16 November 2023

Somewhere a Light

 Somewhere a Light


There is 

always light,

somewhere.

Darkness 

is always 

encompassed 

by light.

After all,

you wouldn’t 

even know 

what darkness 

was,

if light 

did not 

circumscribe 

its ragged 

edge.

Somewhere 

now,

even in 

the darkest 

night,

fire burns,

light is 

kindled,

candles 

are lit,

and minds 

and hearts

are illumined

by grace,

making lives 

glitter,

like gilded letters 

animating 

the text 

of everyday 

life

in our 

always

flickered passing

towards 

the ever after

page 

of peace.




Monday 6 November 2023

Stair Flights

 Stair Flights


Lately, I have been thinking

of the sheer ridiculous 

goodness of stairs.

Does that seem strange?

But, consider a moment 

the generous way in which 

they hold our weight

and allow a slow motion flight

up or down.

How, over centuries, 

we have come to know

the perfect height

and depth each step should be

for no fall or slip to take place,

but by our own distracted error.

How they connect places and planes

of different existence and different times.

How they allow passage.

How they are often our best image 

of birth, and death, and daily 

beckon restwards.

How they were places of play

and places of peace,

making themselves into seats 

and even slides,

when wanted.

I think of tiny spiral ones, tightly wound

in turrets and towers,

and the grand staircases of ancient houses,

to say nothing of the ones haunted

by memories, and perhaps by

more than memory,

and I am amazed again

at the casual way we climb,

so often not noticing 

the holding of our body

the leaning of each step towards us

the blessing of bannisters

the etiquette of ascension,

the sacramentality of stairs.

Don’t even get me started

on doors.




Wednesday 25 October 2023

Red Apples

 Red apples

I want to write a poem today
That falls upon the mind
Like the autumn sunshine
Falling on this page and 
Giving a sudden sharpness 
To the ink,
To the fibre of the paper, 
Such that a smooth page 
Is now,
A landscape of detail.
Such that a single letter 
Is now mountainous 
In its meaning.
I want to write a poem today 
That silvers the shadowed 
Corners of the mind
Like the harvest moon shining 
In the window at night, 
Large and lovely in the sky,
Making your room 
An unfamiliar forest that 
Appears only in
Your midnight waking.
I want to write a poem today
As warm as the red 
Of apples in the old
White bowl upon 
The kitchen counter.
Fiery jewels, juice filled and 
Garnered from garden
Seeming to hold 
Summer’s essence 
In sphere form.
I want to write a poem today
Flaming like an autumn bonfire,
That licks lazily at 
the secret senses of the soul
And illumines the 
Hearth of the heart 
With flickers and sparks 
Of faithlight kindled.
But how can I write 
When the world itself 
Seems to be aflame?
When the chaos of war erupts 
Again, and again, and again.
When violence screams
So loud in language 
Of hatred and pain.
When the sufferers are 
Silenced and the listeners 
So deadened and deafened 
In their overwhelm 
They weep now only dust.
When the terror tells its lies
In every tongue and we 
Fall back again and again 
Into the dance of death 
That separates and sunders and sins by 
Seeing the child, the woman, the man
As other than brother or sister of
My own blessed being and cries out
Against the simple song of 
Now, of love, of peace, that
Our souls were always meant to sing.
So how to sit with 
Meaning in the midst of madness?
I do not know.
Except to name the beauty that
Still blesses and sing the bounty of the 
Moment that is always graced. 
And try to cultivate the peace
Of Soul that slowly kindles
Kindness in all the hearts around.
Ever beginning anew, ever offering
A new beginning to all
Who see ending only through
Their weeping eyes.
And all the while to cry out
For every voice now silenced
To give the dead their due 
And offer prayer for all, 
With all, that soon
A ceasefire of sacred stillness 
May arise around the world.
That after storm, and fire, 
And earthquake, there may be 
A moment for us all to breathe 
At last and most of all for those
Whose hearts hate has consumed 
And who consume the souls 
Of others in their hate,
That they may stop
And drop their guns and guard;
Hearing at last the sacred sound
Of divine breathing, our common
Song of inter-being, then,
Seeing in each other’s eye their 
Own reflection returned and know 
In sacred sight of soul
Their own brother, their own sister 
Revealed at last, again
In the shocking clarity
Of repentant tears.
So perhaps, so perhaps,
I will write a poem after all 
That sings of peace 
and of the sacred
Power of ordinary things
And the divine light 
In which they bathe,
And from which they come.
To remind us all
Of common being
Of blessing and of
A graced present now,
And now, and now,
Abiding and ever calling
Us to begin again
Beyond the path
Of pain we travel tired
And so cry out 
The kingdom to
A world weary of weeping;
That in every choice 
In every moment 
Another way is possible
Of joy and grace,
Of warm red apples 
In a white bowl
Waiting for our gaze to 
Liven them into love
Made visible once again,
Signposts of soul
Guiding our feet into the 
Way of peace.








Monday 5 September 2022

Still Points, a guide to living the Mindful, Meditative Life

 



Haven’t been on here for an age but just popping in to let you all know that: 


“Still Points; a guide to living the mindful meditative way,” 

will be published by Hachette Press on the 22nd of September!
A book of meditations, poems, sacred pauses and reflections that brings you through the cycle of the seasons in a contemplative way, it is now available for pre-order at:
Or from Amazon or (preferably) from any good independent bookshop!
May it bring a little peace+


Monday 6 September 2021

Be Still and…

 Taking refuge in this one this evening…



Desert Stillness:


Be still 

and know

that I Am..


Would you enter the desert

at the heart of yourself?

Would you allow the sandals of your senses

to fall away?

Would you, finally, recognise

the holy ground your heart

truly is?

Would you behold the burning bush

afire with presence at the centre of

your soul?

Then you must 

enter the desert of stillness.

Be still

and know...

Would you know the call to exodus

from the slavery of self?

Would you pass through the waters

of overwhelming worry?

Would you ascend the holy mountain of prayer?

Would you behold the glory so bright that it is darkness?

Would you enter the cloud of the presence?

Would you keep the covenant of grace?

Would you reach the promised land of peace?

Then you must enter the desert of stillness.

Be still 

and know...

For

This is how the Ultimate is revealed:

as presence through stillness,

as Being beyond being,

as emptiness without absence,

as right relationship,

in which 

we come to know

the self truly

only in the light

of Pure Being as

independent

(where all else depends on love),

as non-contingent:

(where all else arises from previous causes),

as creative:

(where all else sub-creates),

as transcending all,

imminent in all,

beyond all,

but 

holding all

in being

by

Love.

Would you enter the desert at the heart of yourself and see it bloom?

If you would,

then only

be still

and you will know.

Sunday 5 September 2021

Mother Teresa: a mystic of holy darkness

Today we keep the feast of the great saint of the 20th century Mother Teresa of Kolkatta. 



Today we keep the feast of the great saint of the 20th century Mother Teresa of Kolkatta. 


While she is known mostly for her extraordinary work for the poor and the destitute in India and throughout the world very few still know of her deep mysticism of "darkness". This darkness has nothing to do with the darkness of evil, rather it is the effect on the soul's inner eye of those who have behld the bright light of the Divine Presence... We are simply blinded by its brightness and only that light can in time restore our inner vision. It is a mystical path walked by only the greatest of those the Lord calls and one of the most difficult to even imagine... simply put after the direct call of the saint to a particular path and mission the Lord seems to withdraw His light so that prayer is an unremitting desert with only very occasional indications that God is present at all... It is a participation in the humanity of Christ crucified upon the Cross and crucified to this day in the suffering of creation while at the same time, to all around them, the saint is a source of Divine Light and grace but the saint is called to ongoing teaching, working, praying all without any form of spiritual consolation in a dark night of the soul that produces extraordinary fruit in those around them while depriving the one who is going through it of anything other than the grace to contintually welcome and fulfil the will of God in the midst of it all. This was seen beautifully in the famous miracle of the light described by Malcolm Muggeridge in his book about her. Coming to film the work of her sisters in the 70's the BBC crew he was with were horrified to discover just how dark the building in the slums where the sisters lived was. It was so dark as to be completely unsuitable for filming. Telling one of the sisters that they would have to abandon the project the news came to Mother who famously said "I will pray." She did so and despite the objections of the crew Malcolm insisted they would film. It was only when they got back to the UK that they discovered that the whole building appeared suffused in a beautiful calm light. The cameramen confessed themselves stumped... what we were seeing, said Muggeridge, was the light of Mother's prayer.


In some of her last words about this spiritual darkness Mother Teresa promised that she would be a "saint of darkness" and like Padre Pio and St. Therese the Little Flower, she promised that she would remain at the doors of Heaven to guide and help all those going through the trial of darkness in their own lives... She is a powerful advocate for those who are suffering and seeking... I pray to her often for light and suggest you might like to also.


Mother Teresa always said her work (and ours too) is simply to be faithful to God in the present moment and not to worry about success... success belongs to God and from the Divine perspective what looks like success to us can be failure to God and vice versa! Just think of the Crucifixion! To live the Christian life is to live one that ever more surely seems to be at odds with the way the world thinks and acts... in our topsy turvy witness we are those who remind the world of what and who are really important... perhaps that is the way that the darkness of our world and the way it treats the powerless, the poor and the hurting may be overcome by the light of the Gospel.


While she is known mostly for her extraordinary work for the poor and the destitute in India and throughout the world very few still know of her deep mysticism of "darkness". This darkness has nothing to do with the darkness of evil, rather it is the effect on the soul's inner eye of those who have behld the bright light of the Divine Presence... We are simply blinded by its brightness and only that light can in time restore our inner vision. It is a mystical path walked by only the greatest of those the Lord calls and one of the most difficult to even imagine... simply put after the direct call of the saint to a particular path and mission the Lord seems to withdraw His light so that prayer is an unremitting desert with only very occasional indications that God is present at all... It is a participation in the humanity of Christ crucified upon the Cross and crucified to this day in the suffering of creation while at the same time, to all around them, the saint is a source of Divine Light and grace but the saint is called to ongoing teaching, working, praying all without any form of spiritual consolation in a dark night of the soul that produces extraordinary fruit in those around them while depriving the one who is going through it of anything other than the grace to contintually welcome and fulfil the will of God in the midst of it all. This was seen beautifully in the famous miracle of the light described by Malcolm Muggeridge in his book about her. Coming to film the work of her sisters in the 70's the BBC crew he was with were horrified to discover just how dark the building in the slums where the sisters lived was. It was so dark as to be completely unsuitable for filming. Telling one of the sisters that they would have to abandon the project the news came to Mother who famously said "I will pray." She did so and despite the objections of the crew Malcolm insisted they would film. It was only when they got back to the UK that they discovered that the whole building appeared suffused in a beautiful calm light. The cameramen confessed themselves stumped... what we were seeing, said Muggeridge, was the light of Mother's prayer.


In some of her last words about this spiritual darkness Mother Teresa promised that she would be a "saint of darkness" and like Padre Pio and St. Therese the Little Flower, she promised that she would remain at the doors of Heaven to guide and help all those going through the trial of darkness in their own lives... She is a powerful advocate for those who are suffering and seeking... I pray to her often for light and suggest you might like to also.


Mother Teresa always said her work (and ours too) is simply to be faithful to God in the present moment and not to worry about success... success belongs to God and from the Divine perspective what looks like success to us can be failure to God and vice versa! Just think of the Crucifixion! To live the Christian life is to live one that ever more surely seems to be at odds with the way the world thinks and acts... in our topsy turvy witness we are those who remind the world of what and who are really important... perhaps that is the way that the darkness of our world and the way it treats the powerless, the poor and the hurting may be overcome by the light of the Gospel.

Thursday 2 September 2021

September In-Between

 



September In-between


This is the season of in-between,

a sacred door into the dragonfly days 

of sun blushed berries,

and fruits full upon the branch,

when autumnal fire crackles

slowly over leaves, 

unleashing light along their veins

tempting them towards 

the tension of windborn wonder.

These are the days of swallows and starlings 

gathering as slow storm clouds 

before their flocked flight warmwards, 

screaming their farewells,

fountaining forwards,

free upon the foaming clouds.

These are the days of first noticing 

the chill and the dark, 

though not as winter yet, 

only as remarked change upon our skin

walking from patches of conversation 

into silent introspection, 

feeling the old summons of schoolday beginnings, 

the burgeoning pull-tide of term 

we never truly escape from,

no matter the outer age, 

that calls our shuffling feet towards 

the first drifting leaves and 

makes us count conkers upon the trees, 

even if our pockets hold other treasures now.

These are the days of longing, 

yearning for those sunsets and mornings 

just now out of reach, 

that teach us the deeper soul longing 

for Love's eternal Summer, 

yet we rejoice too 

in the brittle sharp newness 

of lowering sun and rising moon.

These are the days of hunting, 

of homing, of harvesting; 

of gratitude given before the gathering, 

of berried blessing being 

between us and all that is,

and though our gaze now looks 

long towards winter 

we join here, now,

in the days of autumnal grace, 

the dance of in-between.