Ong namo guru dev namo

Ong namo guru dev namo is a call. It is a call which can penetrate through any maya and manifest God and Guru, the Supreme Conscious¬ness; it is the declaration, the voice, of the divine Shakti, the kundalini.

The Teachings of Yogi Bhajan, 1978

A dream

I came to see you in a big city with tall structures. You took me up to high places where I experienced moments of fear. We awkwardly held hands, awkwardly reconnecting. You lead me, guiding me through the realm of the dreamer. 
It was late, as we parted I was informed that you had become a robot and with that transformation had wiped out your feeling memory like a computer. It felt like a death and a birth. A clean slate, although I could sense remnants of our previous life together rattling around in my own psyche. Our / My yearning. Our / My longing. 
You reflect back at me a part of myself that I have lost. The dreamer.  I am sad. I yearn for it.
I experience it in small ways in my new life. 
In the dream I tried to share this experience with a fellow dreamer but he didn't quite understand. I felt unsatisfied.

I'm coming in on a wing and prayer

Self portrait 2007

I discovered an old poem that I wrote years ago, the language has changed, the ideas have remained pretty much the same.


close to death
and life
this mechanical animal
stears through air - tight fear
i am here
this inspiration flies
high with fright
it's a sun-bright windy yellow day
almost alone
the eternal crone, my constant companion
reminding me of my death
oh, the value that she brings to every breath
metal monster
in a careless sky
a small sperm like shadow reflected
on the thick blue ocean over which we fly
i would feel free
if i could be
in control
ensure this flight
deliver me whole

Nostalgia

It is almost a week after the autumnal equinox, the air is crisp and there is a thickness in the sun’s shine as if it holds things, maybe memories of long gone times. It warms my thoughts with a welcome and familiar nostalgia. A heart felt place in which I reminisce on this moment eternal. I imagine it as an endless line or point in time colored up and made unique by transient elements, intuitive in design.

I sadly wish that I had been more present, conscious and aware of the passing nature of those aspects and beings which gave my moment its depth. The sweet sound of a bird, the tick of granny’s clock, the murmur of cars moving around on the outside, the smell of black board, her chalky fingers, that first day on my own, the wax wrapped sandwich, the school ground’s red sand, the loneliness, that yearning song and, years later the softness of your touch, your understanding hand. 

I had recently qualified as an architect and began working for Urban Solutions. It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon; I’m on my own at the office in Newtown working in an unnecessary extra hour or two. I’m working on my sense of purpose; I’m working on my dreams. The mysterious moans of Siouxsie and the Banshees’ anthemic ‘killing jar’ call out to me from the eighties reaching through my G3’s small distorted speakers in the early 2000’s. I sit at my desk overwhelmed by the heaviness of hope, a dark nostalgia and a desperate regret at having missed out on the revolutionary moments belonging to magnificent others in magnificent times gone.

I dream of my night to come, what it will look like, what it will wear, its dance, its disco of desire, its stolen glances charged with drunken self expression and freedom of movement. I escape there weekly and I begin to live. Each time discovering more of me, each time intoxicated and uninhibited I furiously confront the beliefs which have kept me small and hidden for all this time.