Shiva's and Metta's Mother's Sutra

by s.k.lindeman An angel kissed           my cheek today      though I did sleep           and was ignored      by worldly men           as rich as kings      I heard the whisperings           of their wings      I felt the fluttering           of the air      as if an angel           combed my hair      I heard the seraph's           watery chant               drip down                   my dreams                       distilled to song     While the River Lethe           overflowed              and then                  one tear awoke                      the deluge                          within      Another dawn           awoke the day                What once was near,                       so far away.

by Rudyard Kipling When Earth's last picture is painted And the tubes are twisted and dried When the oldest colors have faded And the youngest critic has died We shall rest, and faith, we shall need it Lie down for an aeon or two 'Till the Master of all good workmen Shall put us to work anew And those that were good shall be happy They'll sit in a golden chair They'll splash at a ten league canvas With brushes of comet's hair They'll find real saints to draw from Magdalene, Peter, and Paul They'll work for an age at a sitting And never be tired at all. And only the Master shall praise us. And only the Master shall blame. And no one will work for the money. No one will work for the fame. But each for the joy of the working, And each, in his separate star, Will draw the thing as he sees it. For the God of things as they are! I am by no means religious. I don't believe in a GOD as such. The master mechanic. I have seen no evidence of it. But i do believe in...

Remember i said we were spoilt in Belfast for things to do? Well last weekend was a case in point. The whole Cathederal Quarter, for one night only, was filled with acts, choirs, jugglers, puppets, etc. And then on Saturday was the Chilifest. As ever, everything is backwards in the photographs with the Chillifest coming first. It was like walking onto a commercialised set designed by Diane Arbus being at the Chillifest. The dangerous made safe, the marginalised brought in from the cold. It's no longer old, its vintage, it's not tattoo, it's body art. It's not hillibilli, it's American Folk Trad Rock , etc. The dangerous was now accessible to any body for £7 and children were FREE!!!! So here's Ghin sporting his best Hot Dragon face.  Oisin and Mika tried the dragon's blood chilli. They were braver men that i was. Oisin jumped up and down for about half and hour - but also told me last night that he would do it again. I think that's why human beings are w...

This excerpt is from The Bhagavad Gita - Arjuna speaks. Creatures rise and creatures vanish; I alone am real, Arjuna, looking out, amused, from deep Within the eyes of every creature. I am the object of all knowledge, Father of the world, its mother, Source of all things, of impure and Pure, of holiness and horror. I am the goal, the root, the witness, Home and refuge, dearest friend, Creation and annihilation, Everlasting seed and treasure. I am the radiance of the sun, I Open or withhold the rainclouds, I am Immortality and Death, am being and non-being. I am the Self, Arjuna, seated in the heart of every creature. I am the origin, the middle, And the end that all must come to. Those who worship me sincerely with their minds and bodies, giving Up their whole lives in devotion, Find in me their heart’s fulfilment. Even those who do no know me, If their actions are straightforward, Just, and loving, venerate me With the truest kind of worship. All your thoughts, all your actions, All y...

Here's Oisin doing the diablos - he now has two tricks and thinks he'd like to start raising money busking on Royal Avenue.  Caught the thing...! That's Ghin drinking up his milk. He said to me, take Ghin drinking.... ...and eating... ...and getting ready to eat... My gorgeous son.  And the other one ;-) Marie's birthday was celebrated yesterday.  It was lovely, although i did get into a conversation with her friend about how Derry wans need to get over it. She was horrified that i would suggest a thing. Her friend beside her said, what do you get over it? Get off their crucifix? Which didn't make things better. She was really really annoyed that i would suggest such a thing.  I suppose i should have said, really it's all about how being victim has taken over their being almost entirely. Yes awful things were done to them, and part of that is slowly being redressed, but to hold the next generation hostage to their own suffering - and then to use the wrong that w...

I was an atheist for about seven years - yes... actually it was probably less than that, hardcore atheism laster for about four years. And then i became very interested in the goddess, and finally i had to admit that human beings are spiritual beings and we need to somehow connect to that part of ourselves and outside ourselves, or else we are bankrupt inside. It is nice to be spiritual, i say tongue in cheek, but i do mean it. Because it gives you, without trying too hard, a sense of humility and it lifts a burden from your shoulders. It's like having someone else to lean on. When i was an atheist i always felt that something was missing. It was as if there was a large elephant hiding under my bed and i didn't want to admit it was there. The elephant was my soul and my denial of that soul. What do i mean by soul? Not the immortal part of myself, but the part that loves to feel wonder. The part that is still a child. The part that enjoys the Mystery. The part that witnesses the...

I do not think of you lying in the wet clay Of a Monaghan graveyard; I see You walking down a lane among the poplars On your way to the station, or happily Going to second Mass on a summer Sunday-- You meet me and you say: 'Don't forget to see about the cattle--' Among your earthiest words the angels stray. And I think of you walking along a headland Of green oats in June, So full of repose, so rich with life-- And I see us meeting at the end of a town on a fair day by accident, after the bargains are all made and we can walk Together through the shops and stalls and markets Free in the oriental streets of thought. O you are not lying in the wet clay, For it is harvest evening now and we Are piling up the ricks against the moonlight And you smile up at us -- eternally. I wonder what memories my sons will have of me...here i am fashioning our lives, building up little pictures for them and i don't even realise it. On Wednesday i yelled at Oisin. He had not had breakfast ...

It's Friday night and it's too short a life to drink awful wine. So i'm pouring the rest of this bottle down the plug. I'm sort of sick and tired of listening to the anniversary of the demise of Lehman Brothers. The media love thinking they've like survived this really terrible crisis. It's like reporting from a war zone. You can see the egotism of the reporter all over it. Look at me, i'm so brave and macho and wonderful. Risking my life like a fecking eejit to bring you this bulletin. See i'm in this flackjacket and i may be killed or kidnapped at any moment. Aren't i wonderful - and i feel like i'm on TV... I know, i'm in that sort of a mood really. But i think, for all the universities, academics, reporters, TV and radio 24-7, for all the universal sufferage we've had, dear god we seem to have made things WORSE, not better. I think that if people stopped just pretending they were important and did something simple like, i don't kn...

The grey sea creeps half-visible, half-hushed, And grasps with its innumerable hands These silent walls. I see beyond a rough Glimmering infinity, I feel the wash And hear the sibilation of the waves That whisper to each other as they push To shoreward side by side, --long lines and dim Of movement flecked with quivering spots of foam, The quiet welter of a shifting world. by Sri Audobindo This poem, for some reason, reminds me of Singapore. I suppose because we get to see so much of the sea there at night cos it doesn't matter what time or day or night or indeed year it is - you could just go to the sea. And the nights i have spent walking by the sea. Pacing the shores of the island, like a caged tiger, wondering what lay beyond them. Looking out at the ships in a distance, lining the horizon, and dreaming of the life i might lead beyond the place. I am in grave danger of romanticising Singapore. Having not been there now for more than a year, i'm beginning to imagine what it ...

Village Song Honey, child, honey, child, whither are you going? Would you cast your jewels all to the breezes blowing? Would you leave the mother who on golden grain has fed you? Would you grieve the lover who is riding forth to wed you? Mother mine, to the wild forest I am going, Where upon the champa boughs the champa buds are blowing; To the koil-haunted river-isles where lotus lilies glisten, The voices of the fairy folk are calling me: O listen! Honey, child, honey, child, the world is full of pleasure, Of bridal-songs and cradle-songs and sandal-scented leisure. Your bridal robes are in the loom, silver and saffron glowing, Your bridal cakes are on the hearth: O whither are you going? The bridal-songs and cradle-songs have cadences of sorrow, The laughter of the sun today, the wind of death tomorrow. Far sweeter sound the forest-notes where forest-streams are falling; O mother mine, I cannot stay, the fairy-folk are calling. by Sarojini Naidu Isn't that the truth? It isn'...

Power by Adrienne Rich Living in the earth-deposits of our history Today a backhoe divulged out of a crumbling flank of earth one bottle amber perfect a hundred-year-old cure for fever or melancholy a tonic for living on this earth in the winters of this climate Today I was reading about Marie Curie: she must have known she suffered from radiation sickness her body bombarded for years by the element she had purified It seems she denied to the end the source of the cataracts on her eyes the cracked and suppurating skin of her finger-ends till she could no longer hold a test-tube or a pencil She died a famous woman denying her wounds denying her wounds came from the same source as her power I read Rich when i was nineteen. It was part of the English degree i did and i was mesmerised by the watery, feminine poetry that flowed like a stream over the earth and beneath it and then emerged somewhere else that never was where you thought it might. Together wi...

We went to the Portrush airshow. Yesterday. I think it was ok the day before but it was miserable yesterday. The rain barely stopped and there is a horrible tackiness to the feel of these events. Military and paramilitary types were all over the place. Men wearing uniforms and carrying guns gave me a heebee jeebies. I can admire the engineering and skill that goes into the planes, but i think a bird for instance is so much more elegant, natural and FREE - and doesn't make a big deal about it and is SAFE. And if they put the money and time they spent on airplanes or even this airshow, we'd be better off by a whole lot. I can't really read or watch the news anymore. I do so because i must, but the whole premise of news, of people's assumptions and reporting is so out of synch with where i am coming from these days that it's a little better than gobeldygook to me. I understand how it all works, but it's like looking and reading a world that has passed. Like i'm...

Summer is over, not that we had a summer, but the air is nippy. Nippy and cold and the wind from over the lough is sharp. It's not really fair because it's been so soggy and miserable. I'm going to be laid up in bed today because i'm not feeling the best. Why are human beings supposed to feel all these things? The ups and downs of health, moods, fortunes, etc. One minute you're laughing and the next you're being hounded by doubt. The thing is that there is no answer to that question why and our need for a why has resulted in religion, psychotherapy, art, myth, etc. Why do we need to justify things to ourselves? Why do we need reasons? Probably because we do feel all these things...so we feel these things because we feel these things. If we could just stop the world from spinning around in our heads, we'd be so much better...but the world still spins and the best thing we can do it just accept its spinning and watch it - good bad or indifferent. So it is one ...

An oldie but a goodie. By Maya Angelou. Phenomenal woman Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size But when I start to tell them, They think I'm telling lies. I say, It's in the reach of my arms The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me. I walk into a room Just as cool as you please, And to a man, The fellows stand or Fall down on their knees. Then they swarm around me, A hive of honey bees. I say, It's the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth, The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet. I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me. Men themselves have wondered What they see in me. They try so much But they can't touch My inner mystery. When I try to show them They say they still can't see. I say, It's in the arch of my back, The sun of my smile, The ride of my breasts, The grace of my style. ...

Oisin did this tonight...i found the quote from Thich Nat Hanh, but the drawing was so incredibly cute...its times like these i KNOW that sending him to Steiner was right...he drew this and i just thought it was perfect - and found the quote to match through google. The first day of school. After dinner Peter left for his zen talk and i drew with the boys - this was one of the results.   As part of the dinner preparations i got Oisin to make the omelette, lay the table and light the candle. We ate dinner at the dinner table and had dessert as well. It was all very civilised and i enjoyed it. Then i got Oisin to help me dry the dishes, which made doing the dishes a pleasure, rather than a lonely chore. Oisin has now been given a job to do in the house. He goes around switching off lights that aren't being used and he's now in charge of the recycling. For that we gets paid £5 a week. He also has to clean his room. The house is a mess since the new floors were put in. I'm slow...

The end at the beginning. Here we are again. I've been taking these shots now since i've been 18. At an airport with those that i love saying goodbye for a ridiculous amount of time. No doubt i'll be taking more and more of these for the rest of my life. In my 38th year, it is almost exactly 20 years to the day when i took pictures of myself going off to England for the first time. And now i have two beautiful sons - a part of that journey which began so long ago. Ma and Pa, we smile bravely for the camera. Lough Keys is an adventure park in Co Cavan - i think it's Cavan anyway. The castle far away is a folly that was built 200 years ago. The island known as the Rock or Castle Island, was the entertainment centre of the clan which lived in the area. The McDermotts or something like them. I love this photo cos it shows Pa, Oisin and Ghin in thier three sizes. And here's Pa at his merry best... Isn't that just typical of him? Ghin sits in his buggy and eats cold c...