Stop acting so small. You are the universe in ecstatic motion.
Rumi
Latest Rambling
Growing Up
It’s home time. I’m taking the red eye from Perth to Sydney, which leaves at the rather uncivilised hour of 5 minutes to midnight. I’m rounding off this rather spontaneous trip with a rather spontaneous glass of white. I haven’t done spontaneous for a while. I think I used to be more spontaneous – I remember a random weekday spur of the moment trip to Brighton pre-kids, skipping work the next day to wander around the rides, eat ice-cream and drink champagne. And I’m pretty sure that wasn’t completely out of the norm for me. I’ve reached a point inContinue reading “Growing Up”
14 days in a Camper Van (and it rained a lot!)
14 day road trip in a campervan up the NSW North coast – Australia
Tell yourself a new story
Tell yourself a new story One that does not begin with shame Or the erroneous notion of being born broken That your very existence is flawed In need of redemption Or that life is a rehearsal In pursuit of eternal reward A promise of future paradise Bought with death and destruction And the oppression of curiosity Tell yourself a new story Snatched from the tree of knowledge Dripping with ripening fruit Rich with possibility A story that revels in the glorious Imperfections of life’s experimental creations That hints of the wonder of being alive Here in this momentContinue reading “Tell yourself a new story”
The Silver Fox
The old silver fox laid down his head Burrowed down and took one last breath Before falling into an eternal slumber, The peaceful sleep of the dead. They gathered around his fallen form And crying a river of tears, told his life stories Which fell like rain on to the place where he lay Beneath the full moon One Tuesday in June. And the earth turned still Made its way, Its inexorable, ceaseless way Around the sun The circuit of life Tracing patterns of stars in the night sky Moving to the tempo of the seasons From the tear soakedContinue reading “The Silver Fox”
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I have never started a poem whose end I knew. Writing a poem is discovering.
Robert Frost
