Beyond Religion
6 mn read When the heart is on fire a blaze is created that burns away everything in its path so all that is left is Love. This evisceration, this burning, is the necessary but cruel cleansing that returns us to our self.
6 mn read When the heart is on fire a blaze is created that burns away everything in its path so all that is left is Love. This evisceration, this burning, is the necessary but cruel cleansing that returns us to our self.
4 mn read I notice I have never been good at bowing. It usually takes a large piece of wood – or at least the emotional equivalent – to get me on my knees.
< 1 mn read This head of mine tells me stories Of predictable gloom, of past pain.So I have to trust my heart and itsSudden surge of feeling, whichCatches me unawares and racesTowards the smell of your familiarityAnd our conjoining.We are so entwined now that I amInconsolable without you near me.Can you feel this force field thatPulls us nearer, […]
6 mn read Somewhere in the Kumaon Hills, where gods circle mortals like vultures, a blue troupe of uniformed children accost me on their way home.
6 mn read It is interesting how when we start our journey we have completely the wrong idea – that somehow by magic we will wind up in some blissful nirvana.
6 mn read In the first flush of romance the heart blossoms like a spring flower but, drawn to rekindle the wounds of childhood, the heart’s eye knows just the right partner to select….
4 mn read Without an appreciation of the soul’s radical desires, psychotherapy can interfere with psychological and spiritual maturation and promote a non-imaginative normality that merely supports people to be better-adapted cogs in a toxic industrial culture’
8 mn read The freshness of the day glinted through the window, navigating its way through the small opening and spreading out like a fan made of silken butter, over the sheets and into my caress.
7 mn read Years ago, if time exists, I found myself roaming the streets of a dismal, faded Willesden, looking for an Irishman.
9 mn read Sometimes a man can live his life on the borders and in the margins, camp out in purgatory, know the territory of thresholds and sing his song among strangenesses