I was made for Afternoons

sometimes the ol blooge don't come so easy just gotta start it somehow well, lets see whats been happening? community family met last night usual parade of wine n chat n eating n just hanging out nice prayer time with all the littilies being quiet with us learning how to pray they dug the icons n the singing and tried little bits of the butterscotch snapps we sipped afterwards i been listening to jim morays second album astonishing really sorta medieval folk meets coldplay great ideas you'd love it freends get it on ya itunes or iwhatever reading richy rohr on contemplation n transcendent living n stuff right good it is too so get ya self a copy i been writing in the mornings meditating trying to eat a bit better drink a bit less get a walk or a swim in deal with me family stuff deal with me own stuff love me missus n me littilies stay out of da spotlight all the usual stuff so hope your day is light n bright more anon ck

in the moment in the time the place space us cells n water n neutrons n electrons n fibre n tissue joined together in these bodies a home for our soul a mode of transport a school of thought capable of great love incredible hate reproduction self agrandisment creative thinking has any artist paralleled this sublime act can any painting capture its magnificence? music its transcendence? writing its complexity or its wit? and yet our souls are never quite at home in this majestic temple we spend our lives fighting taming controlling denying manipulating detoxing indulging it. truly we are not present to ourselves perhaps this is the true journey to become one with our bodies to know ourselves in all our dimensions spiritual physically emotional social sexual my key is meditation writing loving slowing lets come home to ourselves freends and find each other love and the mystery beyond within and around love me.

You may have noticed a little change here a rant missing an epistle of confusion gone walkabout it was simply a blog post deleted i had second thoughts a change of heart there I was pontificating (in the nicest possible way of course this being a polite and loving bloog ) about someone elses spiritual stuff comment is good me thinks to me self But I fell over the line a little there into in and out up and down you vs me vs us vs them even if its not my cuppa green tea i should learn to be a little more silent and just do it better so sorry so sorry if you read it and were upset ----------------------------------------- i am ill today i like that word ill i’m not sick i’m not bedridden just ill thanks to the littilies passing on the fruit of their illnesses… it’s a reading day a blogging day an emailing day hopefully a praying day a day to restore myself from this illness without a name from the life we live in frantic circles haven’t much time all year just to be one thing about teachi

poached pears for brekkie today thanks sk for the receipe! so anyway what a weekend it was... family dramas secrets told weight carrying load bearing stuff i thought i would crack but... welcome it the missus told me you know that stuff boy! let it sit, be with it, learn from it its not you its just stuff she's turing into a little mystic that woman! (just dont get a bald head my love) that helped then amazingly emails words n a long chat with an old friend who had had the fight of her life by the sound of it pain suffering too-ing and fro-ing but out of her darkness came light and now even hope and peace i know shes gonna read this so hi little bear we love ya hope we see ya soon... so it was a strange weekend this up n down in n out sorta thing but thats life n thats about it 4 tooday more on tuesssssday freends! nak sirhc

blah yuck tired weary me today how the demons love to raise their ugly little heads when your defences are low how a word can piece like a sword a look (the wrong one of course) cause the nuclear implosion of your soul if we’re lucky we all get this experience (although we may not truly get it) the chance to learn what going on within ourselves see those bits of us not quite yet healed perhaps begin the slow and dangerous excavation of my soul my solution? a long walk meditation some green tea and honey silence a chat with you my freends and fiends breathe sleep. more later.

in my morning briefing the meditation the writing the coffee the little prince i often seem to spend time thinking about what i really want? do i want this ? or that? why do I do this? or that? the easier questions are all about what i dont want ... i can tell you its not that its not this usually what i want is not what i'm doing right now! i suppose these are the usual end of year thoughts "life is what happens when you're busy making other plans" John Lennon Nail on the head stuff as usual living with ifs n butts n maybes n couldves just dries you out all the present moment stuff i know like breathing gently mantra letting thoughts come and go just seems to become more important as i get older maybe i read it too young maybe i wasnt ready who knows or cares but it works for me now seems to become indispensible ... we were not taught this stuff as littilies even though then we do it naturally by about 7 we start to forget its all plans n future n past n judging n no

final guru night lots of people lots of good stuff talk of heaven n hell (it's us you know - and a fair bit of metaphysics...) da journey of being spiritual in different contexts of men n women n words of knowing of not knowing of knowing you don't know and of knowing that you know that you don't know... you get the picture we had some lovely silence ended by a dicky little bell a time for interaction with the balded one and then oh, yes you know its coming the song the swaying the holding hands oh god IT WAS AWFUL i thought the old ladies in the front were going to sway over they were so into it we tried to get away we really did but the baby boomer swayers closed in like a rugby pack we couldn't escape hands reached out for us we were trapped trapped at a freeing spiritual nondualistic event my two young companions got the giggles so i did too we couldn't look at each other we couldn't look up we couldn't look ahead we looked down and tried to breathe this

i could sleep but waking every 2 hours gives you a restlessness unlike any other you have slept but not fully or deeply you have refreshed partly the half empty wine glass you're half a party a mid point half alive half ready half self half life i dreamed the same dream in installments continued on after each momentary waking my father dead i walked through a grey world not happy, obviously not sad just grey talking to people making arrangements consoling my mother i don't recall tears of grief perhaps anguish a failure to really grip it. when i was younger i never feared death much but now now with my own children and missus life seems more intense more precious more fragile more beautiful i dont fear my parents death i fear my own reaction the emotional turmoil even though i know thats the deal thats the stuff the only way perhaps i do fear my own death the legacy i may leave what would i ... too many questions today. breathe. see ya later.

sometimes you’re just lucky sometimes the universe conspires to give you what you need blessing you could say even when you are least open or least ready butlast night me and the missus and the closest freends went to heara spiritual master a Franciscana bald headed, poetry sprouting, nouwen knowing, mystic of a man we sat patientlyt he disorganization was incredible a push and shove of the faithful desperate to get in (We were safe ‘cos we sent a scout ahead we may want to be enlightened but were not stupid) announcements for this and that items for sale then the introductions! wandering thoughts like a … blog but then he spoke and you could tell in the first ten second she knew he’d been there he’d experienced what he spoke which gave him power humility humour he didn’t need to try and impress us he spoke from his deepest self and gave us hope insight it was simple his message listen to yourself to whats going on inside let it be transformed welcome the opportunity to grow in happine

the carnivale was a success humanity packed into a street or two children meet animals n ferris wheels n bouncy castles n gelati ck tries to meet an espresso but met the crowded resistance the missus sang her songs the gathered group quietly appreciative how much applause can you expect these days without a drummer? but she was great a bit a joni bit of this bit of that in her dark blue dress like a celtic princess no fanfare or nothing just her and jo jo doing her thing special moments these huh? kids n family outside exploring it all together then later a dark and brooding chat with some freends peak this n that oil n gas n looming danger all sounded a bit much to me ya see i read the paper too bout the freaks n geeks n running scared and i have a certain sympathy but what about about buying shotguns to protect ya food well maybe yeah but but i didn't get what they got me's an optimist i believe in the possible in the moment of grace in the fact that everytime we seem down wi

hazy day afternoon sleeps me n the littilies n freend’s off to a street festevale in the city not too far all pile into the little car see ck the missus play n sing n probably not dance lizy and the prince are popping out of their heads with excitement at face painting n clowns n ice creams i spent this morning writing words about other peoples littilies well, actually avoiding doing it ya see I can’t lie to ya freends! but I did some thought of some nice things to tell tried to think big picture think about where they at now whats good whats great try and accentuate the positive but ya know freends some kids just aren’t made for school some of us maybe all of us aren’t made for these times not for full time employment not for the factory or the office or the business not for the rigmarole the trench the labour struggle but for light music sound beauty love god hope happiness reading laughing singing dancing you don’t read those words in your typical emplayment contract do you? send me

sitting out in the sun with some of me closest freends eating n drinking n shooting the breeze being happy watching the littilies of all of us gaze with wonder at the doe eyed lamas chase the ducks chase the waiters chase each other eyes wide at the huge plates of food given em complete with lollies n biscuits n all the stuff they don’t get at home i’d love to be a littilie again you too? with only the moment joy n love n disappointment n hope n mystic all in their hands just ready to come out not have to negotiate the madness this adult world “civilization’ we so absurdly call it all the sex n drugs n money n papers n trying and hoping n wanting it is too easy to idealize all this guff tis tough to be kid too we throw ‘em into the adult world too fast sink or swim love or hate give and take work work work even the very littilest sometimes “is that the best you can do?” well no, but who cares anyway? ya got a whole life to get it right may as well explore a bit when ya under 10 a few g

it always begins with a few words and then a pause of indiscriminate length while the workings of a mind take their own sweet time warm their engines spit and polish the nuerons test the synapses and mystic pathways hit the delete button just to make things interesting then finally engage bloog i was thinking about my mother yesterday and an old b and w photo i have of her she must have been about 33 or 34 two little boys on her knees a dog at her feet long brown hippy hair sitting in the garden I was thinking about her as a writer she always loved the poetry and shakespeare and books she keeps a little exercise book of poems and anecdote things she loves and wondering if my old dad he of the 9 lives ever got it ever gave her time to extend her creativity or if it was just the time of woman doing what they were told pushing themselves down to fit cos i reckon i got the word love from her and i just take the time i need to be creative but she never did maybe never thought she was good e

now freends i am wondering who out there in this big bad beautiful world reads my words each day cos ya know i'm smart i pu the ol meter on and i can see who comes and goes who does or doesn't and who comes back so who are ya freend? do ya get what you need here ya know i cant write what ya want to hear and at the moment i'm just so busy with it all the music and the reports and the madness and the littilies all crashing into me and colliding and i need to remember to breath so this ol page isnt getting the time i want to give it but can you hang in there and wait for me to give you some more gold? i'll dig around in these corridors see with my third eye look over the aural landscape try and bring ya some hope some love some stories from my trip a token of my appreciation so see ya tomorrow freends and remember I'll know you were here (cue scary music.....)

feels like summer is heading in running like the start of the marathon slow and steady building waiting for a moment to explode heat making sleep difficult littilies toss and turn ck and i talk late into the night neither of us feel much like sleeping last night me and PT musical companion went to listen to a rough mix of some tunes we penned sounding brighter than we thought but the whole experience reminded me why I am a musician and poet and not a technoengineerproducersoundmaker all those knobs (apart from me and PT!) give me a headache dropping levels adding bits and bobs twist the watzit tweek the doda I mean what about the song? Who cares about the reverb? Lets get a cool tune a good vibe some neat lyrics a great singer and I reckon she'll be apples man atmosphere is good but spending tree months mixing one song or five year? What a waste of good nothing time but you know that we keep doing it this way to get it like it sound in the space between our ears that magical versio

what to write today? so busy so tired so much to do many things to get to music to hear books to take of shelves dust off and turn over errands to run people to phone places to be and be seen at prayers to say meals to eat clocks to watch baths to run tears to dry clothes to mend... but what about the one important thing be be me just be can i make the time my friends? can you? should i shouldn't i be out and about building a future building a bridge making investments digging a hole or maybe just digging it! too much running running on empty (can you hear me humming it no friends...) i'm goign home soon back to my geetar and littilies and sounds books and coffee a house of love thats it actually love. the one thing.

if we only knew what the effect of a brief chat was ... a few words spoken between friends or enemies or littilies without much thought without agenda they can change a life they offer hope they can tear another down belittle embarass disturb destroy how much more do we think about words those of us who write...? but i'm not your god not your guru or leader i'm not perfect at least i hope not what a responsibility a hoax you can take my words as you want will my words sum me up? no more than who i am written out on a piece of paper could ever do but still we have too be careful maybe even economical with those words especially with silence

bits of paper cloud my desk some are like lost fishermen swimming miles from their destination perhaps they have been there so long they've forgotten what they were sent for anyway other are lovely and bright guaranteed to get my attention to bring me to them and then ususally they disappoint they corrupt with tales of future happiness just buy me buy me buy me need me need me want me want me order order order now damn it NOW! so they don't often make it past the door nasty little things paper paper everywhere and just when you thought it was safe when you knew who you were you're warm and safe along comes the paper you're a failure you scored a big fat zero you drive too fast you haven't paid your bills you have overdue library books your investments have failed have this test fill in this form we'll tell you we'll define you we'll box you in we'll nail you down all on paper --------------------------------------- they can't define us by paper l

i awoke alone my lover gone to a carnival in the great south singing with her witches circle at a blews feestivale of all things i drag my sorry self from bed at the usual moment just before the alarm (who were a cool band in the distant past) its five thirty and the ground is wet from the nights rain i am so attached it seems i can't settle or vanish into my morning nothingness littilies demands are met my need for caffine satisfied but no attention do i have the buddha would be most upset and the day draws on and i fill the spaces with sound the church bowie weller the regular gentleman of my acquatitance but great as they are the longing for her naws silently like an insidious disease or the slow steady steps of the hangman and i am at dis-ease at last the sun leaves me alone the sky is pensive fitting i think and i can soon sleep waiting for tomorrow and her return.

it is wet here in purth first rain for a month and all of the green surfaces only for a moment a brief look before hiding again and waiting for the long hot summer to begin and end littilies one and two both up early this morning for the meditative start climbing all over this wanna be holy man before cups of coffee and milk and heading out the door at a speed of knotts getting to work and feeding obsessions music god community edgy countercultural mumbojumbo arty farty la la you know these do feed me dont you? its my thing my stuff gives me a purpose a reason a place without it i lose it oh you wouldn't believe how much like a space weary time traveller but it hard you know it too keeping the fire keeping the passion all too easy to make the excuses and i'm talking to me here lose the plot get out of kilter out of time forget lost but today i remember I see the sun i know why i am here and i will follow

Rising from the swamp comes the music the musician filling the silence sound action activity creation challenging ritualising colour and magic fill the void. to enhance the silence is its hope but they are not alone these purveyors of sound the poet fills the silent planet with words which may confuse at first like a koan or a riddle but lead to a deeper truth the painter a mystic of the first most holy order colour light shape all used to lead stimulate upset the secret silent sons and daughters alone in their rooms at sunrise and sunset if they are good teach us all we need to know from their silence they act they see all things as one see the whole the hand behind the majesty of the universe the interrealtion of all things god if you will they see what must be done on this great journey all artists and mystics one together bringing peace

time passes and glasses are emptied plans made and modified conversations begun and ended meals eaten dishes washed and remarkably bodies and minds healed sleep is had rest too sometimes friendships are fed i am worn out this last week has taken its toll my body feels sore and listless and yet there are other demands onme to tell about the kiddies i instruct how are they? what do they know? should we be worried? whats to say? they are young they're learning sometimes they even learn what i teach they don't listen they have cool ideas they fight with friends they love they're growing up they need you to be there for them maybe i could ask them tell me about them... what do they love what's their passion their greatest fear their joy but i'll never know not really and time is passing ...

Welcome to the space bubble the time retainer no past here no future only a light hum hushed voices bright light which burns every blemish revealed shwoosh of fluids pumped attention detail decisions constant restrained activity i sit holding hands with him watching this circus committed to life and dignity i answer his blurry questions answers soon forgotten. i am wearing a long black t-shirt this morning embossed in dark gold with angel wings a medieval mystery world of truth he sees me and smiles he is a mystery man too a few brief incoherent words some insane demands observations which come from another place and he is off again perhaps back to the world of my shirt perhaps to the flip side of this room where time stands still wherever he is his breathing is easier body working better I am gladder even though this is just The beginning Of this story The start of An unseen adventure perhaps he has glimpsed the future and wants to return to his silent land of painless slumber as I ga

grey and deary morning spots of rain on the windows movies milk mushrooms the day begins and we wonder what will it hold i saw my father yesterday a shape kept alive by machines n bags n pipes lovely young doctor spoke oh so briefly to us there’s nothing in all the tests must be a hidden infection or evil virus that snuck in when no one was looking he’ll stay here a while she said as if he had any choice unconscious unaware unable to do anything but be there so we watched him in pairs while around us the buzz and grind of the icu continued without abate hushed and serious machines ringing family pacing holy men of all sizes and shapes coming and going offering blessings and love from their deity i stand with my mother watching silent my fathers shape all of him that seems to be fully there real my theology seems useless now what do I know anyway? but this man is clinging to life and that miracle is one i wasn’t expecting so i continue still here waiting

my father is gravely ill and i sit here and try to write while a machine breathes for him and small sounds show any watcher that life is still hanging on my mother silent like mary no doubt sits beside and does all she can do watch and breathe wait silently nursing he who has moved from man to child a full life circle my phones are all silent the hum of the computer my companion as i too wait across the city recording my thoughts emptiness verging no mystery compares with this heart torn what a space this old man will leave how will it be filled is today his day? these questions useless my grief kept only at bay by some hope that all is somehow as it should be and if i am alive enough patient and silent i will see some of the pattern but for now i too with most of humanity with my mother my family my companions wait.

i have been reading kilbeys blog with devotion with love with frequency and with a critical eye for truth creativity and musical choices and today he was keen on detachment which of course warms this ole mystics heart last night my colleagues and companioons mentors and young learners gathered for end of season cele brutions speech ers ohs ahhs dancers prancers singers and swingers the new jaded and leaving i was there too 'course all in black trying to hide back stage wanting to be phantom only being a ghoul and lead the kids in a moment or two of silence a theatre is a sort of mystical place too ya know a temple to the creative and the brave all that black and lights anywhoo i was a bit detached too like kilb's said seeing it all like a film just there in it and outside it watching my breathing and all cool! kids do it without thinking in the moment no self no little critic jumping up and down begging for our attention its just us faded struggling big 'uns who need to le

pace movement action carried too far too quickly and i haven't stopped yet more tomorrow maybe nak