Tag Archives: 2008

what happens when I have a writer’s block in India

4 Mar

drawings of gurus from my time in India

These are some drawing I did in India and just after. For some reason I lost the ability to self reflect while there, and so turned my attention to that which was more immediate to my senses… drawing.

I’ve never drawn before, so felt the only way I could bring a face through was to throw lots of bright colours on to the light and lots of heavy dark colours on to the shadows.

The whole process was very immediate and kept me wholey present; unlike my writing which is reflective and often comes with a ‘story’.

These drawings are now sitting in the “Yurt” construct in our dinning room (at the Sanctuary). I meditate there and also grow basil. A very light spot in the house. Yum.


culture shock in India (18 Feb 2008)

28 Feb

I could just never find an authentic expression
For devotion in a temple or at the foot
Of a mountain or guru

There’s too much adolescent child in me
Perhaps, or I’m being asked to adopt
Something to foreign in concept

Is it that devotion comes naturally to children
We see our master, our parent, as divine All Knowing
A good guru lets his children become adolescents

Seeing perhaps limits or restrictions or ceilings
And needing to venture further
And then perhaps come home or maybe not

Only, as a child, I didn’t see the Divine
       outside of my self

liver sounds (31 Jan 2008)

28 Feb

I have come from
the pit of an aboriginal
fire dance, in spirit

it is a healing
where I make the sound
of my liver

it comes in an out pouring
of breath
from a belly that’s never

exhaled. First it is tribal
pulsing muscles banging the drum
throat vibrating to its own echo

it’s magical and unexplored
I am prompted again
find the sound of your liver

a raspy wheezy hiss and hag
escape, I have jumped into the fire
burning the witch

It’s not a willing exit either
whatever it is
that’s channelling through

my throat irritates the sound
bitters the sound
angers the sound

this body is finding expression
and release as the balance
for healing and consciousness

what a joke (25 Jan 2008)

28 Feb

fuckin joke, grumpy as hell
how did I manage to constellate
such a boring hangover
  of a personality

Jesus! What a gip
I feel the stickiness in
Hardening into evidence

(proving my mind right)
  I barely feel
  I barely think
  I barely do

  I barely be
I’m subject to less than life
I don’t fit wholesomely anywhere
Gliding in leaving no impression

Why am I even here?
What can I possibly give!
I am no better than a satsang
Of grasping, dispearing seekers

I’m no better than the dull
Whitted questions from self
  Reinforced egoing
I’m the boring side of subtle

The unreceptive side of the moon
The dying light of has-been here
Is this me for this life?
Can I accept such a dreary bland path?

Projecting only humble love
To some sham more sham than me
The mountain, the mountain
What a crock. I don’t feel

A thing towards the mountain
I am inconsequential to this
I climb it
It thinks nothing of it

Oh, Ok, I’m not the doer
It comes to me and then
Ignores me

the opposite of staying (13 Dec 2008)

22 Sep

it looks like a child
called Brazil or a children’s book
in possum creek
I can create the world

I want children to see
and taste and be
compassionate as a way
of living

it looks like living
in a community of nomads
to earth, we hunger to belong
and say something significant

like love is the only known
and here we move to and from
and always within
lighting and touching

vast tides of possibilities
like the single drop returning
to the ocean and seeing the journey
to land is contained

and moving to a greater pull and law

staying (13 Dec 2008)

22 Sep

intentional community
invites and open doors
for all sorts of reasons
like an old wives gathering

and sharing favourite recipes
and there’s too much cauliflower
so you’re just gonna have to help me
eat it, and this video isn’t due back

for a week, so feel free to borrow it
and I know how much you
love your boyfriend and you just
need to gush all about him

and now we’re helping build
his compost from scratch, he showed
me how to hammer in my first
nail and saw stuff like a pro

and so it goes in an organic
sense, we are a tribe across town
sharing each other’s dreams
and spirit

for something larger than the whole

the opposite of travel II (13 Dec 2008)

22 Sep

it looks like chance
encounters on familiar streets
an invite, a new face, I fall in love

(it’s only love
at first sight
if you recognise it)

I didn’t call it that because
I didn’t expect it to happen

in my backyard
(so to speak)

when you find someone
at home and so obviously
in love

with here, does that mean
the opposite of travel
whatever that may be…

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