Love deeply, and without patience.

This poem is a plea for passion in the slowing down times of life. Like the Dylan Thomas poem which urges not to go gentle in to that good night, this poem calls out for persistent love. Not mistaking steadfastness for doing nothing – that is a powerful meditation for the day.   This poem…

The Bright Field. A poem for late summer.

In August there can be more time to stop the rush and tumble of our lives, and to bathe in the richness of what is here. Every second taken away from awareness of the eternal present is a second lost. Most of us lose most of our seconds, most of the time. Screwed up in…

Albedo – alchemist’s purity, alchemist’s peril.

By the light of the silvery moon…..albedo is the whitening stage of alchemy. How do we recognise it, how do we work with it, and what are its dangers? Although we are often mightily relieved to move out from the dreadful clutches of nigredo in to the white, imaginative, open, diaphanous, cleansing rising of albedo,…

Imagination and Psychotherapy – the neuroscience is friendly

The imaginal function is important to psychotherapists because it connects us directly to what is  not yet know. Psychotherapy is not about what is known. Any therapist who purports to be able to tell you what is ailing you and what you should do about it is one to run a mile from. No, psychotherapy…

Time’s fool, or the ever fixed mark?

The link we make between love and eternity deserves some attention. We offer a ring as a symbol of our love in marriage, because it is eternal – the ring, in its circularity,  has no beginning or end. We promise to love ‘forever’ (although in the Christian marriage service the promise is only until death,…

At Blackwater Pond. Mary Oliver.

And so here where I live the weather has just suddenly turned from hot, heavy, laden summer days to  cool, clean freshness in a drenching season change. Last night the rain came, in buckets, streaking lightening, soaking the flowerbeds, keeping us awake to storm-watch (and deeply breathe!) through open windows. What a constant delight the…

The beauty of the wound

Have you ever been struck by how the most beautiful part of a tree is the wounded part, where a limb has been torn off? Probably it was a difficult experience for the tree, limited its capacity to function efficiently for some time. But it healed. It survived. And it was left with a unique…

Refusing the spiritual bypass..poem by RS Thomas

Facing terrible truths, roses have thorns,  people can be murderous, cruel, indiscriminately monstrous. And beauty is still present in the violent, selfish world. At the same time. Roses don’t shed their thorns before they flower. Here is a poem by RS Thomas in which he wonders about the many faceted nature of the God he…

Brexit – a projection shit storm

We are in the midst of a projection shit storm and  we neglected to dress for the weather. The  national psyche is in crisis, and most of us are of the opinion that it is someone else’s fault. This is why the 52 voted the way they did, (blaming Brussels, blaming bureaucrats, blaming ‘foreigners’, blaming London) and…

Tolerating the narcissism of teasels…..

My teasels have sprung in to action, taking a huge amount of space in the borders. They are massive, clear, and very present – “Look at meeeee!!” “Here I am!!!!” “Get out of my way, lesser herbaceous cousin-plant…..it is ME!!!! Make room!!!!”  arms aloft, dainty waists, slightly weirdly alienesque eyes. I love them. They have a certain…