Shiva's and Metta's Mother's Sutra

Maybe my bathroom in the future... I think so, yes. She picked the towel off the floor. It was a bit damp, and a bit whiffy. But was it whiffy enough to be washed? She thought, no. No it wasn't. So she hung it on the door to dry and later she would return to fold it. The bathroom was, in a mess, as usual. Somehow, despite the many years which had intervened between her sons being infants and now being adults, they had not learned how to tidy up after a shower. The shampoo bottles - their shampoo bottles - though finished were not recycled nor discarded. Instead, they pay around the bathtub or on the side of the bath, empty and forlorn. In the past, she would be too busy to do anything about it and these bottles could have lain forever, but now, freed from the many many duties of a mother with small children, she was able to collect, check them and then decide what should be done. The bathtub itself was streaked with suds and hair. She ran the tap and rinsed the tub down. S...

Coronation of the Virgin by Fra Angelico There are no short cuts. I know that now. I mean I really know it. Previously I got by on wanting to do my best... now I understand that the reason why I wanted to do my best is that I instinctively understood that there were no short cuts. The Christmas lectures have been so important for me coalescing the vision of what I want and what I am working towards. It still surprises me that at this age I am still trying to understand the world and what it means for everyone and everything. I have always tried to make informed decisions within the best of my ability. Sometimes they were good, sometimes they were catastrophic failures. The catastrophic failures were always good lessons. Over the time I have been leached of energy and goodwill. I have gotten hopelessly lost, especially over the last year - just under a year. The last year has been tough, there is no doubt about that. Especially from a lurch to the right point of view. That has ...

Flapwings The entire day was overcast with a keen wind that blew over it. As she walked along the concrete dyke, it dragged its cold bony fingers through her hair, tearing through it. The waters, at their highest were being kept inland by the wind's Northerly thrust. The wind pushed the waves against the top of the lough, preventing the release of the waters, unsettling the birds. The expectation was of birth, but there was no breaking of waters, no coming of Christ. Instead just wind, wind, wind - and the birds above, screaming. The geese floated patiently, in rafts of twenties and fifties. The eider, in their hundreds. Gulls bobbed, in their apparent dumbness and stupidity, but of course, everyone knew better. Gulls were Wily E Coyotes. They were the hyenas and wolves of this world, daring, pitiless, fiercely intelligent, endlessly adaptable. But the birds she felt most for were the waders. They were creatures that were enchanted - doomed to never be far from a water...

Confusingly winter plumaged black-headed gull Birds are now in the process of getting their BEST EVER plumage and growing new feathers for the breeding season which will be getting on the way soon Strangford from the Floodgates at Newtownards I used to think this was boring and grey but I don't anymore... I see it is just gorgeous Scrabo Tower with Brent and other gulls Other waders like Oystercatchers in the foreground Flotilla of Brent Lapwings!!! Hundreds and hundreds of them today Here they are... never settling... skittish, untrusting... it is amazing they manage to nest at all Perfectly camouflaged ringer plovers waiting patiently for the tide to turn... How those birds cope with that cold I will never know I'm trying to get a good shot to paint Hope springs eternal Forty million shades of grey Redshank and oystercatchers feed along the tideline Flooding along the lough - the wind was so strong it kept whipping...

Edward Hopper Lonely vision There she was, on the sofa. Sitting, on her own, there - but also, elsewhere. What WAS she watching? The movement of shadow and light, ducking and dappling across the black plastic canvas, what was this? She didn't remember. She felt - left behind. Left behind by a world she didn't care to understand, but also didn't mind that she didn't. A world which seemed to be streaking ahead, into a place which she did not want to follow but now felt forced, grabbed by a throat and marched into a space which was unnecessary. Earlier in the day she had listened to a radio programme about using AI to have a better understanding of music. And the programme before that was about having son luminere  projections on cathedrals. The resistance was pouring out of every pore from her body to not just the mindlessness, but now the glamour, and it was do hard, almost impossible to leave follow, but should she not, now she had a terrible fear of it all over...

Stephanie stood at the sink, lifting plates, cups, cutlery, pans. They had been piled, one a top each other, higgledy-piggledy, by successive users in the hope that one day, perhaps someone, would arrive to redeem them with warm water and soap suds. Despite being nearly 50 (she was now 49), she had only learned how to wash up a few years ago, when she became a Class Teacher, and had to wash an enormous number of plates on a regular basis because her class - then aged six and seven - were too young to be given the task. Let us rephrase that - if they were to wash that number of plates the results would be more trouble than they were worth. So Stephanie washed their plates after they cooked or baked - and ate. She had a technique and it was thus: all plates went to the bottom of the pile. All flat plates. Right at the bottom. Then came the bowls, neatly stacked, one a top the other to accommodate the most integral structure. Then cups and glasses, if there were any, and there alwa...

Over the past four months I have written something about stories, fragments. I have scratched my itch for the Tarot, Lemuria and Time Travel. Everytime though the same thing happens... I end up getting very inspired, I see quite a lot of the story and then, it fades and I am left with not a lot - then life gets in the way and certainly from November onwards - this is my December attempt at getting a story out - I have been not great at keeping a regular schedule. Something which I am determined to do this time. THERE ARE NO SHORT CUTS. I have to sit down and write it. The story I want to read. It is still there though, Atlantis, Lemuria - I just have to reconnect everyday and believe in it. THERE ARE NO SHORT CUTS.  To show up. to this end I am going to start using the book On Becoming a Writer I bought more than ten years ago and do those exercises during the two hours I have given myself everyday. And do them faithfully - as in unquestioningly, on a regular basis and a...

Title and name of artist unknown Yesterday's Nice Thing: Seeing Star Wars - the final one in this trilogy - with the boys, and having the most chilled out Boxing Day ever. I have found meditations on the Holy Nights. They are done by Kristina Kane and are really good. They give me something to hold onto while we see out the year to help everything rise through the insanity of the season. These are Steiner's indications for the Holy Nights given to Herbert Hahn. First Holy Night December 24-25 - Capricorn Christmas Eve, when Christ is born in the soul. The soul asks: Can I, with all my weaknesses, deficiencies and passions, be heard? Symbol: The stable of Bethlehem, where the Light of the World is born in humility and poverty. The Voice of Silence penetrates the soul and teaches to joyfully affirm the good in us and in others. Capricorn. The Divine Spirit is born in Matter. Spirit and Matter, the Alpha and Omega touch and life comes into being. Mystery: The see...

Moving the Soul with Colour Artist Unknown On December 24th the 12 holy nights begin. The 12 holy nights are symbols for the 12 forces of the soul that live in us. And so this indication is valid forever, not only for the 12 holy nights. On January 1 at noon we have the Sun as close as possible to the Earth and that is why there are just five and half days before and five and a half days later, which is the time of the 12 holy nights. On these nights, the darkest of the year, we are closest to the Sun's Spirit and this means that the Spiritual Sun shining from inside the Earth makes it translucent and illuminates everything from the inside, not as it is afterwards when the Sun illuminates the Earth from above, from the outside. You have to enter these 12 holy nights wide awake and very conscious. It is important that the first night (Dec. 24th) we only stay awake until one or two in the morning. On the other nights, if possible, try to go to bed regularly at the same ...

Belfast Lough, sunset - the wonderful everyday - it is enough Having exhausted the whole trope of Christmas, this consumerist culture is now limping towards its inevitable disappointing conclusion. It has been impossible - every year since I have been here Christmas has been brought further and further forward till shops no longer care about not stocking Christmas stuff before Halloween ends. It used to be a purdah till the end of Halloween... now it is mid October. As soon as the Christmas crap goes out - cheap chocolates in ever cheaper packaging this year, crapping ornaments which are not supposed to have a shelf life of more than three months, the 'stocking fillers' a completely bewildering phrase if I ever heard one, exhortations from hotel billboards to 'book early for Christmas' - I am already off the merry-go-round. I used to enjoy Christmas. I really did. I used to enjoy the meeting up with people, the gift giving of meaningful gifts, the beautifully...

The boys reading Christmas riddles How gorgeous are they? Huh? Brent geese on Strangford Lough Last year - in fact every year before that - I celebrated Christmas or solstice big time. The Singaporeans were over and we had steamboat for Christmas. We had Yaks for my birthday and steamboat for Christmas. But over the years I have celebrated Christmas less and less. I think the longer and longer they extended it and the more and more people boasted about it on FB the less and less I found myself bothering. Just it has been an interminable run up to it. It has been like the reverse of Narnia - it is always Christmas and never anything else. Right - I don't know what I am going to get my sons really. Oisin has said, it is ok mom, just give me money. I don't know why I feel so bad about it. But I am not going to be pressured into buying crap and giving something for the sake of giving it. Does Oisin have a bag? Yes. I bought that for him last year. Does he have clo...

Edward Robert Hughes __ Midsummer Eve, c.1908 I have never put any store by numbers, beginnings, endings, closes of years, nor openings. I have never placed any store by birthdays, anniversaries, etc etc... I have never found them logical. Time is time is time. Paradoxically, as a result of this, I have also always keenly observed the seasons... quarter days, solstices, moon phases... I have loved festivals, celebrations, the markings off the years passing - tree rings, a garden, the warmth of friendships that have come and gone... love given the timbre of time, pebbles on a beach, the freshness of the risings and settings of suns. It exhausts me, the superficiality and stupidity of people sometimes. The rushing into places they don't understand. Overdoing things. Always, just overdoing things. In this world where likes and attention is now the currency, the extremes are pushing people to do more and more bizarre things. Being ordinary is now a tough thing. If you are ordi...