*

~*~

how thoughts

come riding in..

*

perpetual ten-legged

mysteries..

*

so intimate,

so unbidden,

so surprising..

*

whence do they come?

twin pillars

of hope and fear

charging through,

raising dust and ashes

of past circumstance -

mirroring

brightest shards

of

future ambition..

*

surely it is true wisdom

to sit impassively

and let these proud demons

whirl and prostrate

to your open

gaze..

*

embrace

them not

nor dissuade them their affectation..

*

like shallow, ephemeral

clouds will they

dissipate,

leaving

original mind

as clear, pure

and unsullied

as the moment of

creation..

ha!

~*~

*

a key

to

unlock time -

yours..

~~

a bestowal

[for a life lived

in truth..]

~~

rather,

using it there would be

no turning back;

~~

the enormity

of the enterprise

arouses

fear,

~~

no knowledge

of the consequences:

stepping into

infinitude,

discarding

all known

fact, phenomena

and realisation..

~~

an unceasing dance in the darkness

of emptiness

or

an embrace

of limitless

grandeur

and unimagined ecstasy?

~~

speculation

is all that is possible

this side of the curtain.

~~

mere courage,

not enough

~~

faith sorely challenged,

belief a tissue of abstraction..

~~

release from

this corporeal frame

the only certitude

despite the suffering;

~~

loathing to leave

certainty

for an eternal

preamble of

meaninglessness -

~~

this human

stumbling block

the only given

is such as this..

not

knowing

if the key

presents freedom,

or extinction.

knee-deep

in

movement,

thoughts bestride me..

consecration.

yonder,

bonny wild horses

gently graze,

their luxuriant brown

coats glide

softly, serenely, against

prickly, sharp

yellow gorse..

the contrast pleases me..

sweet salty air penetrates

my inner meanderings;

I cast a gladdened eye around,

all is perfect just as it is.

a moment that remains eternal.

I tramp this way and that,

hiding from distraction,

willing only to savour this moment as it is.

eventually I reach the waters edge

gulls sit astride barren rocks

impassive, majestic.

querulous currents argue the toss amongst each other

and disgorge the remnants of their ideas

carelessly onto the rocky outcrop

that has become my temporary abode.

carefree and satiated,

I open my arms to the panorama

that encircles me,

breathing in deeply -

It is I -

I am It

oh glory be!

glory be..

*

today,

opposites

plague me..

buoyancy - apprehension

expectation - resignation

~

break-through - brick-wall

~

adoration - abhorrence

intimacy - detachment

yet

beyond all

of these,

dormant,

patient -

lie dominions

entirely clear of

all such

abstraction..

still,

time to sit

still..

let It all be

as

It was,

is

and will be..

offer up

all manner of erudition,

comparison

and

judgement.

allow

inherent wisdom

of the moment,

unhindered,

unclouded,

to manifest

as truth.

there is, then

only this

way

of living..

beyond

realms

of

this or that

silence echoes,

the leonine hibernates..

coalescence,

completion.

*

In

passing,

many phenomena

attract the mind's gaze

with

kaleidoscopic intensity..

mind turning in on itself

no easy feat..

attraction of

ephemeral objects

an addictive sport..

concentration on

the basics

is the key to

transformation..

with a good measure of

belief, determination

and good sense,

one

can

find one's way..

always a sense

of doubt, this is part of

the game..

never is the path

illumined for long..

briefest flashes of

spiral understanding

and realisation,

the spur

for continuance..

ever  the struggle

yet

never giving up..

the cause deepens,

the truth beckons..

the passage becomes itself;

the journey no longer a journey,

becoming

reality..

*

hallowed birthright

of existence..

*

 very core,

heart,

hub,

at

the

centre..

*

renewal..

*

a blessed bud,

tears of light

burst forth

every moment,

heralding this magic,

this momentum,

springing forth

we know not whither,

we know not whence;

defying speculation:

 only certain in the knowledge

of this eternal truth.

*

with joyful, naive abandon

and surety,

stepping forward,

gladdened,

grateful -

scarce ignoring

the inevitable

transformation that is all

of our

fate.

*

omnipresent history,

tirelessly

unperturbed by the

inevitable

consequence of our birth -

loss,

change,

disappearance..

always cleansing,

refreshing,

renewal..

*

with bows

*

*

all

manner of

translucent light

trickles,

nay -

cascades!

through & amongst

verdant, vibrant shrubbery

at the end of our garden.

*

little one, loved one,

cherished one,

splashes around

with gay abandon

in her

paddling-pleasure-dome

as only an 8 year-old-soul can,

drip-feeding our thirsty

bay tree

leaning to

 from an adjacent stone path.

*

a lightness of feeling

pervades the morning air

as I sit here,

delivering a discourse of

thanks and gratitude for

this

simple pleasure..

*

twin wonderful souls,

blessed mother and child,

pottering about,

filling our lives

with their own

summer light..

oh joy!

*

*

~*~

just like the

earth

beneath your feet

I am not merely

  fair weather friend..

 *

whatever your step

light, joyful

and carefree, 

or

downtrodden,

morose,

cornered and dark..

 *

just like the earth,

will I be there to hold you

 in

gentle embrace -

to add spring to

your moments

of joy,

and a place to

 rest your weary body..

at times of

vulnerability

and need for

succour..

* 

just like the

earth.

*

is,

holding still

now,

all boundaries

that separate

‘me'

dissolve..

this

appearance,

only

‘being..'

no words

to

expose an

immeasurable

coalescence

of

joy.

a mountain

is as this,

an ocean is

as this,

galaxies,

universe,

a grain

of salt

is as this..

imponderable..

indistinct

immense,

‘I',

softening, merging..

one

smile of affection

reaches across frontiers

of

intuitive

quiescence..

holding still

now,

all boundaries

that separate

‘me'

dissolve.

this

appearance,

only

‘being..'

hail!

*

*

like

it all does..

everything falls

to ground,

eventually..

*

there is always

an ‘after',

each time

a ‘later'..

*

a grimace cannot be sustained.

*

dreaming of other things,

conceptions;

beyond the truth

of the here and now..

*

a gentle, persistent

knowing..

*

fruits of many hours, days

and years

of silent, serene

contemplation.

*

the rewards

indistinct,

just beyond conception;

teasing,

total..

*

our dreams

play counterpoint,

gently,

to our

daily meanderings..

*

and play host

to the

riches and

treasures of our shared

pre-conscious history..

*

I thank fortune

for this

beneficence,

*

but always

to awake

to the vibrancy of

this  very moment

is the true blessing

and

real  story

of

dreams..

*

a smile is eternal

*

like

it all does..

everything falls

to ground,

eventually..

*

*

clarity,

precision..

*

a view unobstructed

across

the universe..

*

a sharp, biting breeze

cuts crosswise,

penetrating but

obscuring not;

freshening, indeed!

*

pure, meridian

golden

blue light

suffuses this vision

with immense energy

and life..

*

forever, this vista

reveals

secrets of existence..

*

wholesome, nourishing

vigour

emancipates -

frees mind..

*

soul soars

everlastingly,

infinitely

beyond..

*

effortlessly

comprehending all,

*

vitally alive

knowing all..

*

hail!

*

*

plip plop

plipp loplip

plopplip   plopplip..

pluush..

*

persistent

precipitation

pervades my privacy!!

*

and yet,

opening to its

temperate rhythm

becomes a teaching..

*

intimate,

familiar and

the very sound of life..

*

how I love

nature's cleansing,

drops

coursing down the windowpane..

*

only we interpret such

action as melancholic.

*

such character and disposition

of pre-prandial

dialogue enriches

the soil and

informs

the soul..

*

*

long,

immeasurable,

the inward journey..

*

to travel

in this way

takes

myriad hours

of

endless, steadfast

patience..

*

entire

edifices of ‘self'

to

 debunk..

*

their reality so strong,

so imposing -

lavishing

mental dynamite

of the most expensive kind

in destroying selfish delusion

is a requirement of

 passage..

*

incessant corridors appear

leading nowhere..

*

always,

 inclination to follow these

to their fruitless end..

*

but,

at length,

anguish dissipates..

a depth of serenity and peace

beyond wildest dreams

emerges from the wreckage that

is imagined being..

*

boundless, immeasurable,

life-affirming happiness, joy

and fulfilment

are rites of passage..

*

boundless vistas

of previous

experience

negotiate their way into the fabric

of this very moment

*

understanding

ignites like

a forest fire

at the height

of

summer..

*

truth

bursts forth like a

waterfall of

nectar, engulfing

being in

ecstatic affirmation..

*

believe!

*

*

and then

the bubble burst,

fruits of aeons of thought

bit the dust and ambiguity took a stranglehold..

truths,

which had appeared

in their nature self-evident,

became a graveyard of abused quotations..

knowing

became bewilderment

and suspense became the order of the day..

fear

gripped the soul,

desolation littered the sacraments

a terror of the unknown, unbehest - reigned..

never

was composure regained,

the landscape of sanity vanished,

an anguished vista of broken hopes prevailed..

the dream

was over, the source dried up,

bleakness became the order of the day..

~~*~~

amelioration then returned from negative construct,

colour returned, vibrancy became a

distinct prospect

again..

the doubt that had manifested was seen for what it was,

nature was never more apparent and clear,

dawning understanding

once again held

sway..

broken dreams became a distant echo of thought,

a halo of transcendent beauty

manifested

itself..

reconstruction was underway and breath arose,

the wind escaped confines of

entrapment,

all was

well..

a distant memory of times long cherished

arose from the syrupy soup of

 oblivion, whence the

 soul broke

 free..

no matter was ever the same again, alas

but redemption was once

again a possibility,

freedom finally

arose from

the

depths of innermost conception and a

 universal sigh of relief sprang

tempest-like from

the heavens.

amen

*

This true story was inspired by 8-year-old daughter asking me to tell her about my life:

The time: fall, 1969-70

The place: Northern Europe/Scandinavia

I left school in summer '69; in fact, the day after I left, Neil Armstrong set foot upon the moon: how auspicious was that!  I had spent 10 years ‘locked away' in a boarding school, having watched the Sixties float merrily by... I had waited patiently, studying hard, achieving university status a year early - thus had a ‘gap' year before that was invented, to live it up... hence was really looking forward to tasting, more savouring the outside world all to myself...

Innocent 17 years, ready to dive headfirst into the hedonism and drug-induced spirituality that was the times... I had prepared; my closest companion those last seven years had been my guitar which I had lived with as closely guarded lover through teenage ups and downs: no mean blues player, I could jam it up with the best of 'em...

So, having spent the autumn as a hostel worker in trendy downtown Kensington, London and acquiring an address book full of Scandinavian beauties, I packed up my kit bag and guitar and headed off down the A2 to Dover, ready to taste the fruits of freedom and literally ‘love' my way around Northern Europe with the abandon and carefree spirit of youth unattached (these were days of free love, no HIV remember...)

Fast forward to: spring '70...I awoke one morning, staying by a frozen lake close to the town of Rovaniemi on the Arctic circle - Lapland/Finland...having spent 6 amazing months travelling the frozen North (images of hearing Coltrane for the first time on headphones in the local public library, his mellifluous cadences and spirituality unfreezing my juvenile mind and opening it up to the beauty of free music) - I was TIRED of snow - having literally not seen a flower or greenery for over 6 months, I decided there and then: the Mediterranean, the South was where I had to be...

Fast forward to: March 21^st 1970...

Having hitched/walked my way down non-stop from the Gulf of Bothnia in Finland to Gothenburg, Southern Sweden, a distance of about 1300 kilometres, I was in pretty bad shape: virtually penniless, hungry as hell (had not eaten cooked food since leaving Rovaniemi some 4 days hence) and cold, cold as ice; I had walked through 2 nights of blizzard without catching a ride, had struggled knee-deep in snow through sodden, dark pine forests...

I finally reached the Gothenburg - Fredrikshavn (Denmark) ferry terminal, completely exhausted from travel, cold and hunger.  I got out my trusted guitar and sat down outside the terminal and strode out some Robert Johnson bottleneck blues until I had made enough Kroner to buy a ticket across the straits to Denmark...

Tramping onto the ferry, I had my first glimpse of ‘civilisation' since setting off from my friend Kaarina's home by a frozen lake in Lapland: light, warmth and the unbelievable smell of cooked food...

I ignored in a well-rehearsed and practised way the disdainful looks and sneers of the local travellers and found my way to the cafeteria and checked out the menu: meatballs and potatoes, AWESOME!! : 12 Kroner..   I checked in my bedraggled coat pockets...one Krone, one measly Krone to my name..

Well, I could at least get a coffee, better than nothing, I figured;  on my way round to the bar, I caught sight of a couple of one-armed bandits.  With nothing to lose (well, everything, actually, but as it was fortune favoured the bold), I stuck my last money in the world into this mechanical trickster and pulled the handle.  For what seemed like an eternity, the three balls whizzed around noisily, I can remember it so clearly AND stopped.  With a curious vomiting sound, this blessed machine spat out 12 Beautiful Kroner!!!

I looked up - ‘there IS a God', I thought.. I can't tell you the emotion I experienced at that moment, but it was heaven-sent..

Needless to say, I went round and bought my favourite meatballs and potatoes;  I will leave to your imagination as to how they tasted...

Many more adventures befell me in that magical year ‘off the rails.'

To be continued..

My life-long love affair with ‘the Blues' sprang from a strange tangle of threads at an early age.  Growing up in the UK as the eldest son of an immigrant family, refugees from that Hades of a land known as nazi Germany, I had deep within my psyche, a fear and loathing of all cultural and racial prejudice.  I knew from the life story of my mother, the Armageddon of the Holocaust - she herself had fallen victim to the regime and landed up in Buchenwald, the notorious concentration camp, for the last 13 months of ‘that war', finally liberated by the Americans in April '45.  Emotionally and physically scarred and disfigured from this experience, Mum kept a thunderous silence on all matters pertaining to those times; only when she passed on did I discover some of her truths about this time from a secret diary she had hidden away.

Nevertheless I grew up with a strong and deep instinctual knowledge of the ferment and madness of those times; myself restricted to an austere school regime of the ‘50's, the world of my youth appeared a cold, forbidding place and somewhat empty of compassion.  I came alive and felt some connection with the experience of Jewish cultural history that I learned about from travelling up to town on Friday evenings, to North West London, becoming ensconced in wonderfully bright and happy Sabbath meals at my Uncle and Aunt's place; they were at the centre of a thriving little community that ate, laughed and prayed together.  The story of ‘the Exodus' grew alive in my heart and I began to identify with the plight of the dispossessed throughout history. 

Ironically my father, anxious to afford me a better start in life than he himself had encountered, sent me away to a truly English establishment which, rather than engaging me in emotional warmth that was lacking in our household, merely compounded the isolation I felt from the immigrant experience.  He, however, was from a generation severely lacking in material comfort and thus his priority was the concept of financial stability - at any psychic cost.  Of course, the English public school of the 50's was class-ridden and xenophobic and someone like myself, strange name, strange customs was sure fodder for attack.  I was, though, a feisty individual and prepared to defend my honour and myself at any cost and regardless of the odds.

My father had held a deep admiration and fascination for the history and values of the USA from an early age, growing up as a Jewish lad in nazi Germany.  Especially ‘Westerns' - the concept of the European establishing himself in the Wild West, brought out the romance and freedom of movement that was so lacking in his own circumstance - of course we have a different slant on the annexation of the Native American by the Europeans today, but those were other times.  As a consequence of his fascination and admiration for all things American, our house was littered with cultural icons of the early 20^th century, fashion, art, literature, but music, especially the music: Hollywood musicals, Jazz, Country and Western and of course, Blues.

The epiphany for me was stumbling across an old, beat up vinyl LP entitled: ‘Blues in the Mississippi Night'.  This was a series of authentic field recordings put together by a music anthropologist called Alan Lomax, in the 1940's in the cotton fields of the Mississippi Delta.  I was about 10 years old then and the experience of that first encounter stays with me to this day.  Hearing those early African-American guys talking about ‘life' as they encountered and experienced it, blew me away.  Singing spirituals as they hacked down the cotton, incredible depth, soul, emotion in those voices, and wow!!! that rhythm...  then, sitting down to rest and telling it ‘like it was' - stories of suppression and also, for a young boy on the verge of puberty, stories of love and women....    "Well, you see, the blues is like this, when a bull ain't got no cow...."  This was pure nectar to me, an English public school boy had never encountered anything of this world before - and to be sure, the spiritual connection of suppression and downtrodden experience that I had absorbed growing up in a immigrant Jewish family - these people were my spiritual brothers!!

The icing on the cake was when some guy started singing about meeting up with his ‘baby' for the Friday night dance and blowing his ‘harp' (harmonica)  that was it!!  A lifelong long love affair with the Blues was born there and then.  Not too much later, I acquired my first guitar and dedicated every waking minute to mastering the 12 bar blues structure and discovering the incredible wealth, diversity and talent of all those music masters of the Mississippi Delta and then later on the urban blues meisters of Chicago..  This wonderful medium was to sustain and nourish every waking moment for the rest of my barren schooldays.

silently, thoughts released,

enquiry over

for the day..

discharging,

body commences to feel

its edges..

saddened to the point

of feeling,

a welcome to

the stillness that is

the point of entry..

acquiescence of

one's tremendous ignorance,

laying down the knowing

and absorbing,

substance lacking..

quietly attending,

eyelids aflutter -

lowered in anticipation

of no thing

wonder and pity

coalesce

to form a little known

knowing

not seen, not felt

but wholly

present

to die is just enough

of fatigue..

trust to an awakening

on the morrow

light headed,

conscience clear..

littl'n sad,

no puddin' -

oh dear!

should I rush to the shop

and appease her gloom?

or let things be,

[she should not assume..]

my humour goes down

unsung- no clown

can get by her resolve..