James Ballantyne

Blog

  • Will you be brave and give love a chance?

    Will you be brave and give love a chance?

    One of the reasons we men dont want to deal with our shit is because we dont believe we have the capacity to love ourselves.

    In many scenarios, whether from driven, neglectful, absent or collusive, abusive parents, Love was absent, and instead rules and expectations.

    In School, that wasnt the place either.

    And then there was the competitiveness of existing, having to win at football, chess or reading, having to be the best, having to compete and complete…

    Having to grow up, having to stay strong, having to not be weak

    And all the while, that little voice inside, seemed to grow smaller and smaller, the trappings of externals whilst dying inside.

    Not believing in Love.

    Not knowing Love

    Unless conditional, unless dependent, unless loaded, unless

    Unless hidden even behind labels in sacred stories. Believe in God (who is Love btw) or Jesus, or Mohammad, or whoever, and have the strength and power of Love be hidden behind all of these, and even then, some of these institutions require loyalty or adherence (of rules, of routines) and preach love like its a strategy for expansion. Conditional love, and rarely love of the self, love of the body, love of the past, love of feeling, hurts or wounds. Just pray them away and come back for more, morality the enemy of growth, and maybe even the enemy of love.

    Or you chose a different path, another Vocation, Military, Farming, Teaching, Medicine… All where the purity of what you wanted to be, got lost in the system of numbers, discipline and rules.

    And the was presented as real. This is the real world.

    Dreamers and Artists those who love. Sensitive ones weak.

    Macho. Hurting. Insecure. Violence. Real Man.

    Ugh.

    Deny the hurt, hide it away.

    Soothe the pain by satirical comedy, busyness, the rat race that continually exhausts, failure for the weak, vulnerability for the soft.

    Cultural masculinity at its best. Show no pain. Keep going.

    Until the cracks appear. Until desperation. because:

    If theres no such thing as Love, then it doesn’t matter does it. Beat up your wife, beat up yourself, steal, take and destroy, because Love is absent, Love isnt real, Love is just once a year, and your loveless head, can’t cope with not being in charge. Its running a show thats destroying you, but because you dont believe in Love, you can’t believe that you have to capacity to love, then you dont face it, you can’t, its too fucking big and painful and you think that it looks weak, or a failure, or your mates will think you weird, or you dont have time, or you dont have….

    Deep down its fear.

    Fear…that Love might actually be what’s required….

    Deep down it’s too much.

    You’d rather believe in power than believe in yourself.

    Deep down you have a heart, but its hidden under layers

    Deep down you have shared that heart to help others even whilst wounded yourself….

    Help….not heal….

    Its deep, because its underneath so many layers and blockages that youve put in there, pain soothers, pain avoiders, and these have caused further shame, guilt and pain – addiction, violence, manipulation – all outward projections of deeper hurt, masking anxiety, depression, abuse, the weight of expectation, perfection and trying to please, or make someone proud who is never satisfied – name your pain and add it here. ____________-

    All that stuff feels heavy and feels impossible to love. Shame monsters feel big. We know we’ve done wrong to others, to ourselves…to keep what’s hidden underneath at bay.

    Can I tell you a secret.

    You have the capacity to love yourself, if you are alive, you have a heart.

    You have the capacity to be vulnerable, to ask for help, to begin a different path

    To shed the masks, the fake strength, the keeping going, the weight if pain and suppression, the false appearances that are aching at your soul.

    The very first time I felt a surge of self love and realised a feeling of true self worth was the day I decided to go to therapy. A tiny step of bravery and fear, a tiny tiny shard of self love, to begin the very beginning step of facing and bringing hurt and pain to light. It’s not for everyone, and I needed a safe place to start.

    Most of you will have that, somewhere, and trust me on this, you might need new friends, or new people who can be your cheerleaders, or have ‘been there’ – once you begin this path, you’ll be surprised who shows up and where it takes you.

    Because you can.

    Healing isnt weak, it’s the bravest thing you can do.

    Sometimes we’re so addicted to the cycle of pain and denial that we wear it like a cloak, preferring blame and victimhood as a norm.

    Dont believe me when I say you can love yourself?

    You dont have to. Thats your choice.

    But stay in unbelief and stay as you are, and nothing changes.

    Love is such a powerful force in the universe and stronger than you think.

    It’s been there all along. Aching to be listened to….maybe it’s time to let it.

    You have the capacity to love yourself, because Love is you.

    It’s been you all along.

    And…..it will save you in the end.

    You just were told otherwise, and believed in it to conform, to hide.

    Yeah, and this all has in some ways applied to me.

    We are all in this together.

  • Hello darkness……friend….not monster.

    Hello darkness……friend….not monster.

    Shining a light onto my Depression

    Hello darkness, my old friend. 

    I wrote in the first line of my journal this morning, as if I was channelling the ghost of Simon and Garfunkel and trying desperately not to rewrite the song as the outpouring of what I was feeling. I wanted a unique feeling. Not some old crooners giving it some and im just the same as them. 

    Because, the darkness monster appeared to me as I lay under the duvet just seconds after I clicked the snooze button. 

    It hadn’t appeared for a while. Actually I thought, that it may have gone forever. But. 

    No. 

    It appeared. 

    Inviting me into itself as a companion of negativity. 

    Wanting to envelop me again. 

    And before you say it, today is not a ‘back to work’ monday morning. 

    Today is actually the first of three days off when I want to do some writing and crack on with the book im in the middle of. 

    For ten minutes I let it speak to me. 

    It wanted to remind me of my smallness

    It wanted to remind me of my shame

    It wanted to remind me of how I haven’t actually written ‘the book yet’ – failings..

    It wanted to remind me that it would be easier to not bother and avoid the disappointment

    It wanted to remind me that there were easier ways to spend my day

    It wanted to tell me that it was protecting me

    It wanted to still be important… 

    It wasnt lying to me, not quite, it was giving me an easier way out…. 

    Appearing as a monster. And I felt small.

    I shaved, showered and put on clean clothes, as a defiant act of self care, and feeling my body, and in the moments of waiting for the kettle to boil for coffee, I wrote and wrote, using black pen for the darkness and pink for me. Pink for my soft heart that wasnt angry, wasnt frustrated by the return….. but wanted to hear even more. 

    I asked my darkness what it wanted, and what it was scared of

    I asked it for its message, and what it was alerting me to

    I asked it to tell me the truth. 

    And I realised that the visit this morning was brought about by a number of things, that started yesterday, when I struggled to write, and gave myself into ‘just having a lazy day watching you tube and sport’ until I got to the evening, where I read a bit and chatted to my partner. 

    Because although I find that the mornings have been a time for me where my darkness friend arrives often, it has mostly only been in the last five or six years when I have been open, safe, and able to feel it. Before this time I had underlying depression that was just constant and masked, as I hid everything away behind a stony mask of survival. Depression was in effect a constant. 

    And then I watched a bit of a documentary over breakfast. And walked into town. 

    And as I walked I realised that maybe, maybe we still dont talk about depression anything like as much as we talk about anxiety. Or maybe we do and I just dont read, or hear about it. 

    And if we do talk about depression it’s rare theres a conversation about how masking it makes it worse, and how for so long it can be hidden. 

    Last week was international suicide prevention day, and that is one easy way out from all the pressure, or all the voices of being scared, unsafe, fear and living a life masking it all, trying to stay strong, trying to be strong for others, with often no support. This is not just a men issue, but it mostly is, and no job, vocation or career is immune from it. Depression is everywhere. 

    In Johan Hari’s book ‘Lost connection’ he writes about the seven things that he realised that we have lost connection with, that all increase depression. I realised I had two of them all my life without realising it. (writing about them here ‘shining a light on my depression’) 

    They are 

    Lost connection with Meaningful values – Junk food for the soul is what Hari regards the rising of the media and cheap capitalist values. 

    Childhood Trauma – if that pain feels too large to deal with, then it’s haunting. 

    Nature – too much screen time is making us sick….the trees heal, touch them. 

    Purposeful work – as everything is standardised, AI is a threat… 

    Dreams and future – survival mode is a present reality that makes the future seem impossible, time is compressed

    Status and respect – Understanding who we truly are, and respect for ourselves and others… 

    Each other/Community – For some there is more connection and yet more isolation within technological spaces, yet depth of community and conversations can often be lost….(im writing this in a coffee shop and its lovely watching people have in-depth conversations with each other) 

    I summarise all of them, and writing them from memory. I could add a number of things to them, and in a way connection is another word for reverence, to have connections with these things is to pay reverence to them, to realise their importance and dig deep into the relevance and intention to work on them – all very difficult when the darkness monster wants to remind us of being small, alone and afraid. (and the anxiety friend helps out with these too…too often) 

    I didnt wake up this morning, or even want to spend any time writing about depression or me or trauma or recovery or healing today, in fact im almost trying not to. 

    Yet I have a life of survival and a life of masking depression and anxiety, and I didnt give in to the easy option of ending life when I was 9, or 34, 39 or 44, when I was close to, and just felt this was important today. To own it, write about it. 

    The real. 

    So here I am, and it’s whats burning to come out today. Writing through the feelings, writing through the process, writing vulnerability into being. 

    Hello darkness my old friend. 

    Friend. Thank you. 

    And then I reminded myself, that I am. 

    I am not the small thoughts

    or the fears….and there is a gift in the voice

    a seed of truth. 

    To remind myself. 

    Of my gifts, my hope

    and the world opening up and waiting for me. 

    Yeah ive now gone full circle, from Simon and Garfunkel to The Greatest Showman. 

    I dont think we talk about depression enough. 

    I dont think its as easy as ‘just talk to someone’ 

    It’s clinging on to something where the rock bottom hits. 

    Its not just a you issue, there are wider factors, there always is…

    It’s a you issue for you though and you, and I are more important than to give in to it all. 

    Darkness is a friend. (as is anxiety) 

    Not monsters. Friends.

    Trying to not feel them, or always feeling them…..reveals there is something wrong. 

    And whilst you’re alive there is a way out, change is always possible. 

    The battle between thoughts and feelings, good and bad voices, demons and angels was a lie, a lie to create shame and fear and dependence. 

    Oh and yes sometimes I would love to not feel all these things, and sometimes they feel yucky and raw and debilitating and yet, the alternative of not feeling, was not living. I cannot go back, and I dont want to. Life is journey paved with love, even if the darkness friends sometimes want to pop in and have a conversation, through tears they are met with love, and sometimes we’ll walk together. Me and my darkness and anxious friends.

  • Awakening to the Universe’s Song

    Awakening to the Universe’s Song

    Hidden from sight, 

    The bird shared its song.

    Melody of wonderment,

    Melody of presence,

    Delight sharing

    in Sound alone. 

    I couldnt see (the bird)

    It was only heard.

    Presence hidden,

    Shrouded,

    Behind the greenery of a summer filled tree

    Hiding itself,

    Came natures voice.

    I wanted to see, I wanted to know

    What is your ID, tiny bird?

    I wanted to have my eyes meet with yours

    and yet…

    Thats not what was required.

    That was not the gift you had for me

    You wanted me to pay attention.

    Not to a notebook full of bird names,

    But to the voice of the universe,

    Talking to me.

    Sharing your song.

    Loving me with melody.

    Gracing me with glory.

    Beauty sounding from the tree

    For my soul to hear

    To pay attention.

    To revere.

    To rest in.

    The melody,

    Allowing the sound to awaken. 

    Allowing soul sounds to echo deep within,

    To penetrate through digital and emotional noise.

    A gift of deep universe harmony,

    Awaken my soul ears,

    To the tunes of the free love.

    So often truth is hidden,

    So often truth is drowned out,

    So often soul stirring is forgotten,

    Buried under lists and targets and competition.

    Yet, from the deep of the tree, calls a truth so free,

    Requiring nothing but opening,

    Nothing but awareness,

    Nothing but diligence to open the space.

    Trust in deeper Truth.

    That hides, shrouded, inviting, waiting.

    Calling literally from the divine melody

    Listen to the birds.

    Listen to their wonder

    Listen to their purity.

    Listen to their joy.

    And find all these already within.

  • Don’t just breathe….

    Fellow Human, Friend,

    They tell you to breathe,

    To remember to breathe,

    But I say, don’t.

    Don’t just breathe.

    Stay.

    Rest.

    Dwell if you will

    In the house of your breath.

    Reside there within the oxygen life blood of your soul

    Rest.

    Rest in the source of your breath

    Rest in your divinity

    Rest in your power

    Rest in your Song

    Breathe in your Strength.

    Breathe in your Presence.

    Breathe in your immensity.

    Breathe in your luminescence.

    Light.

    Follows breath.

    Stay.

    Stay here.

    Take another.

    Don’t go.

    No please.

    Don’t go

    Don’t rush.

    Stay.

    No-thing is more than this

    Breathing in your bliss

    Rest

    Stay in your body.

    Stay in the gap.

    Stay in your truth.

    Stay in that peace.

    Breathe, breathe

    Breathe

    and stay.

    Be here.

    Here in your clarity

    Here in your desires

    Here in your dreams

    Here in your hope.

    Breathe them in, Breathe them whole

    Breathe them, like messages deep from your soul.

    Feel them in power.

    Breathe them in determination.

    Breathe them beyond

    Breathe beyond thought

    Breathe in your beauty

    Believe it in full

    Breathe in your love

    Feel it as full

    Breathe in your truth

    Know it as full

    Breathe in your essence

    Wonder at you.

    Dont just breathe, stay.

    Stay beyond the gap you left today.

    Rest in your breath.

    Let it take you,

    To worlds beyond

    and treasures within.

    To treasures beyond

    and worlds within

    Don’t just breathe.

    Stay.

  • Soul Thread

    The thread you cannot see,

    Is holding you all the same.

    Shrouded. 

    Intimate.

    Reverent.

    Sacred.

    There. But not there. 

    Until.

    You make yourself open,

    To know it.

    Yet. 

    It is there. 

    Is. 

    There. 

    Requires Your Breaking.

    Melts you in Being.

    There always, constant

    Loves pure thread.

    Goldness and Godness,

    Love twined with Beauty.

    On a rope from souls eternity. 

    There. 

    Always.

    There.

    Touch it.

    Yours, always

    Forever.

  • When Healing words do (and don’t) matter.

    When Healing words do (and don’t) matter.

    Theres a funny but profoundly interesting moment in Brene Browns fairly famous ted talk (link below) ‘The Power of Vulnerability’ in which she describes how as a researcher in vulnerability and shame, she undergoes, well, resists the undergoing of the practice of vulnerability (because of….shame)

    She goes on to share how she sits in front of a therapist, and is trying to work out what is or isnt happening to her.

    Her therapists describes it as a ‘breakdown’ , to which Brene, probably fuelled by the Eat Pray Love stuff, says ‘ oh no, its not a breakdown, its a spiritual awakening’

    and, whilst its funny, it also leads to a deeper truth.

    Words in Healing matter, sometimes.

    Sometimes though, they dont quite capture it.

    The descriptive language of whatever the process is to whatever the new (or re-new) is, has a myriad of descriptors and metaphors. Some can be really helpful to some, some can be really unhelpful, some stick, some dont.

    Most describe a journey, a movement,a change – from the ‘dark night of the soul’ to the ‘pilgrims progress’ , from caterpillar to butterfly (via the v important chrysalis) , or to the remoulding and reconnecting of Japanese china with gold welds – brokenness to wholeness in a more beautiful/useful way than before.

    Theres something profound to realise that theres both something in, and also lacking in the descriptive words that include; Healing, Recovery, Breakthrough, transformation, reconnection, awakening, wholeness journey, wellbeing , growth, remaking, restoring, breakdown… (add even more)

    And the ‘wellbing and self-help’ section in Waterstones bookstore has expanded threefold in the last 5 years- self help is the new sexy, and most, if not many describe very similar practices of change, just starting from different points, anxiety, depression, abuse, trauma….there is a hunger overall for the solving of the problem, and quite a few people, from celebrities to self determined spiritual gurus proclaiming answers into the void, using similar processes for slightly different problems. (and lets not talk about the ‘Let Them’ theory book…. the rebadging of ‘acceptance’ as a concept thats as old as the ancient saints)

    But…. language matters and yet at the same time, language is sometimes insufficient. The pain of what we go through and its experience seems to be belittled by the work ‘breakdown’ , and spiritual awakening, whilst seems more positive does feel like ‘Eat Pray Love’ and a desire to ‘find oneself’ through doing experiences- when one wasnt entirely lost in the first place. Yet awakening can also be a good word, describing the new seeing of things, describing clarity…

    For you, for me, our experience of life that require the seeing, clearing, healing, recovery and all the messy bits in between will all be different. As I read, and largely enjoyed Karen O Donnells book on Spiritual Practices for Trauma survivors this week, I was reminded that the way in which language can be helpful for someone who has had a ‘one off’ traumatic experience (and the shame/silence afterwards) – and so can consider their lives in ‘before trauma/trauma event (ie miscarriage, car accident, bereavement) /post trauma’ timeline (it will always be more complex than this, so just for brevity, forgive me) – and words like ‘remake’ and ‘post’ trauma, seem more relevant, than to someone (like me) who has had many traumas (divorce, unemployment, homelessness for example) yet underlying all of it was the trauma of a childhood of being raised by a psychopathic mother – and so, I dont have a sense of a healthy life ‘before’ trauma, when I was born into it. In effect, this is what my soul chose for me….. (and even that has taken a while to accept) – but from a timeline of before/middle/after…. it’s as if I was born in the ‘middle’ … the C of cptsd is quite critical…. but the D needs changing as rarely is the emotional or bodily reaction to a trauma a disorder….usually its very natural (just unwanted in a capatalist world thats disconnected from the sacredness of the body)

    Maybe theres something in everything. If no one descriptor is perfect, then a multitude will, and surely if in a place of acceptance and seeing, language is only meant to affirm and encourage, and what’s going on for us and how we make our lives become more loving to our selves, others, the world and the divine soul of the universe and within our souls is mythical, mystical and messy, and there are sometimes no words, but all words. Maybe it’s that language is insufficient because our soul, heart and body know and that knowing is beyond language.

  • Inner Butterfly

    Caterpillar in the tree
    How you wonder who you’ll be
    Can’t go far but you can always dream
    Wish you may and wish you might
    Don’t you worry, hold on tight
    I promise you there will come a day
    Butterfly fly away

    (Miley Cyrus)

    So often, the butterfly is a metaphor for change, as this song I really like describes. The change from caterpillar, to cocoon to butterfly is rich in symbolism, rich in mystery and describes, often perfectly, the necessity for acceptance of an ongoing death, an ongoing inner change, even if both the caterpillar and the emerged butterfly are still so fragile in the hierarchy of the animal pecking order. As a friend once said to me, what’s the point in doing all that healing work, only to be as fragile, vulnerable and prone to attack as a butterfly, even if you can fly and look astoundingly beautiful for the shortest of flight times?

    What if, instead of much change being required to embody the butterfly, that the butterfly was there all along? What if you already had that inner butterfly, that which moved in accordance with the air, that fragile, wispy-ness, of colour, that closed and opened at various speeds, an inner butterfly, less something that emerged, or that you turned into, but was there all along.

    Waiting to flutter, waiting to rise

    Waiting to be seen, waiting to astonish

    Waiting to be revealed, waiting to be freed

    Soul rising, soul living

    Feeling the wind, feeling the life through its wings

    Truly alive, love and wonder, desire and fire.

    What I didnt realise until this evening, that the word for Psyche in its original greek form, meant ‘the immortal wife of cupid…and represented as a beautiful woman with butterfly wings‘ (The full story of psyche and cupid is in this link)

    So, profoundly, Psyche, can be both translated as ‘Soul’ and also ‘Butterfly’ .

    And to one extent, therefore, this might mean, that you do not transfigure into your inner soul/butterfly….. you are born with it, it was given to you. Your inner butterfly has never not been there, and will never not be there. Its gentle, quiet, wing beats need stillness and space, and the various coverings over and around the soul walls to be gently, carefully, lovingly melted and removed, to allow your soul, your being, your inner butterfly to be free.

    Its path is cleared with softness, not with power tools that scare it.

    Your inner soul, your inner butterfly is the mystical Love, Being, God or consciousness that dwells within, always there, always, it is your full true self, eternal divine goodness, joy and beauty – fragile and majestic as the flight of the butterfly. Vibrant, Colour, Free.

    It is not to be changed into, but to have its flight path cleared of blockages, for the falsities to be removed, for it to be safe to fly.

    You will become……maybe you already are.

    Never a caterpillar deep inside, always a butterfly.

  • Seeing Yourself Clearly.

    Seeing Yourself Clearly.

    There will come a day when you stop believing in your own smallness.

    The great suppression that you were colluded into, when you played small to stay safe, when you played small to get paid, when you played small, played the part of the extra in someone else’s drama. Hiding your gifts, hiding your voice, hiding your immensity, chasing love, chasing one more thing to something other than a gnawing sense of inner tiny.

    In stormy waters you are going to feel small, and those who want you to feel inadequate, ashamed, powerless, guilty often keep chucking the stones into your pond, or start up the wave machine, or turn the water into acid, gently corroding you bit by bit. For some, you born into a pond full of nasties, creatures roaming in the deep, heavy rocks, and tiny little vulnerable you, barely able to breathe as the water around surrounds, swallows and tumultuates.

    You cannot see yourself when dodging the rocks, trying to swim, trying to stay alive and afloat, your concentration and energy is on staying alive and afloat – whatever it takes, and colluding with their small opinion of you is one such way. You have to believe your parents view of you, because you require them to feed you, or your partners view if they’re threatening you, or the places of escape and safety from these, jobs, churches, whatever, when you’re in need of a rescuer or saviour, you’re also vulnerable.

    One storm after another, and the great collusion continues, small you rages in the corner like a jack Russell at a vegetarian ball. The great suppression erodes so much that if you can’t believe it when you are believed in, or it feels uncomfortable, or it is dismissed and denied. Believing in our own inferiority, self oppression, and all of a sudden the stone thrower has won.

    John O Donahue writes about the different ways of sight we have, and in considering how we might have an inferior eye, as we look at ourselves we might say:

    To the inferior eye, everyone else is greater. Others are more beautiful, brilliant and gifted than you. The Inferior eye is always looking away from its own treasures. It can never celebrate its own presence and potential. The Inferior eye is blind to its own secret beauty. The human eye was never designed to look up in a way that inflates the other to superiority, nor to look down reducing the other to inferiority

    John O Donohue – Anam Cara

    I lived for so long small. Feeling weak, small and inferior on the inside. Feeling shame for having needs, feeling shame for my body, shame and belittled for having emotions, others upset internalised as my fault and responsibility, and carried all of this from childhood into adulthood, carried on the ongoing wings of various incarnations of faith that required me to stand small inside in the face of the all powerful God, and still continually feel inadequate or a sinner, on a constant loop of need, fuelling my inner smallness and insecurity, and giving me far too many reasons to stay feeling small inside. God perfect, me inadequate.

    When we forget our own immensity, or we have been conditioned from birth never to have it, it’s a long road to find realise it, because its not trusted, its not just self care we need, but self trust is harder to find. When we act from self smallness we are desperate, needy and tossed around on other peoples waves, unable to see ourselves, looking out for others – approval, acceptance, protection…

    Lovingness and Compassion alone dont produce insight. They smooth the waves of emotions. When those waves of grief, pain, lamentation, worry, fear and anxiety, envy, jealousy, dislike and resentment have finally come to rest, there is a clear reflection without any obscuring ripples in it, like a mirror, the mirror of the mind. That mirror of the mind makes it possible to get a clear vision

    Ayya Khama- Being Nobody, Going Nowhere.

    Safety comes first, emotional safety. Then feeling all the feelings, the grief, pain, envy etc have come to rest, they are not avoided, dismissed or sidelined, they are felt. Beyond the rage and tears, and in the place where you can ride the stones, if they can’t be avoided or escaped from…yet.

    In the place of rest is a clearer reflection.

    When we don’t believe it when someone tells us that we are incredible and beautiful, we need to be angry about those who have convinced us into feeling small.

    Once you stop making yourself small to fit into others.

    Once you stop agreeing with their insecurity, because they have to coerce you into staying small.

    Once your small thought is given the redundancy slip. That job is not required anymore.

    You realise, tiny step, by tiny step

    That inside you is huge.

    Divine, Universe, Consciousness in its expanse

    No apologies for being you darling human.

    The dawning of your new large inner age is upcoming.

    Time to rise, time to live.

    From brokenness to wholeness

    A new beauty arises when you finally believe.

  • In the Nothing, There is Everything.

    In the Nothing, There is Everything.

    Over the last few years, one of the hobbies I have taken up since Covid has been bird watching, and generally enjoying nature more and more. But bird hides, these are fascinating places, and I have a few favourite ones. Yesterday I had a bit of a lucky day, seeing a hobby, greenshank, bittern and an osprey.

    ‘Theres nothing going on’ is so often a deliciously tempting phrase to set the tone in a bird hide, this translates to ‘Whilst there is a panorama of unpredictability of natural life outside, there isnt an unusual bird today to get excited about’ just the seemingly usual birds. In the tempting demand to make life consistently exciting and full, the chase can be on, to go to the places where the ‘interesting birds are.

    Modern life, and modern expressions of faith, often want to fill, rather than keep the empty spaces open, the gap, the pause. We’re frustrated when the ‘gap’ between trains is too long at the station, when theres a gap in the curtains, when there a gap in the TV schedule, church services full of activities in their 90 minutes. Silence feels uncomfortable. Yet…

    What would be music without its gaps?

    There is inside each of us, a sacred pause, a gap, a space. A place where thoughts are watched like birds in a bird hide, some stick around a bit, others fly past fleetingly, some hover, pounce and leave marks. Yet in that place of watching, there is a gap. A gap, like undrawn curtains where the light is. A gap like an artist sees between objects that give the objects their identity. Inside you and me, the sacred gap accompanies our every waking moment, waiting to be noticed, like the things of the thoughts themselves.

    And that sacred pause is where the power is, the joy is, a wonder, mystery, and where love is, its where our consciousness envelops the divine eternal oneness, its where no-thing exists and everything exists all at once.

    And it’s there all the time.

    Find life in no-thing. The Sacred Pause.

    Where – No – thing separates.

    Because it connects as one. Whole being.

    In the nothing there is everything.

  • Finding Peace at Neros.

    Finding Peace at Neros.

    When it comes down to it, the only place where there is peace, is in the sanctity and sanctuary of your own heart.

    Beyond the noise of a million thoughts that delegate themselves self importance and demand a million answers to.

    Am I good enough?

    Am I real? What shall I do now?

    Can I make the right decision?

    What shall I write today? will I find my table at Neros? (as if its mine)

    As I walked in the rain to Caffè Nero this morning, present-ness diffused by the inner suffering of a thousand and one thought voices. Hoping for a clear walk and focus on writing for the morning, yet too many thoughts swirled instead. Hopes and expectations, anxieties and excitements, fears and dreams, certainties and uncertainties all rolled into not one, but many thoughts.

    Then standing in the queue for coffee, choice to think about.

    Macchiato, Cappuccino or Latte.

    Nope. Stick to the normal ‘Flat White’ today not the day to be different or brave.

    And then I sat down.

    And journalled.

    Most of what youre reading now.

    There is only peace in the sanctuary of the heart.

    Beyond thought

    Beyond the sights, the sights of colours and shapes, the busyness of a million movements around, people in sports clothing (ready to do the local 10k), the efficient and caring service of the caffe Nero staff, on this busy frenetic Sunday. I watch as their hands upturn cups, pull levers, find muffins, make unusually early luxury hot chocolate. I notice with eyes. Eyes focussed outward, on the process of coffee that draws my attention.

    Momentarily away from the choice in my mind.

    And then I remember the peace and stillness. Conscious remembering of the possibility of peace.

    So, that its then when I write it down. It’s what I read this week, from a book on buddhist meditation.

    There is only peace in the sanctuary of the heart.

    It can’t be found anywhere else. Yet we look.

    The green space is full of suffering if our mind isnt in it

    The coffee shop is full of peace..if our heart is open to it.

    The pathways that offer peace by their words id often dissolved into anxiety by their actions, and shame by their attitude.

    Peace, beyond all understanding. Beyond all thought.

    There is only peace in the stillness of your heart. In that sanctuary beyond.

    Beyond the wrestle, beyond the hustle, beyond.

    Beyond a thousand thoughts that demand an answer.

    Beyond thinking, is that feeling

    Untrusted, brave, hidden, aspirational

    Seemingly impossible Peace.

    It isnt found. It’s there all along.

    Everything else just needs to get out of the way.

    And Peace chosen instead.

    For a million thoughts want a million answers to problems that are rarely there.

    Thinking on peace, creates the moment.

    Irrationally and bravely.

    It’s there inside you all along.