Today John O’Donohue reminds me
Of the shelter of presence
Which on reflection seems to be
A mighty fine shelter indeed
Yet for me this is not a divine presence
Neither, in any way a supernatural force
This is the energy of the I
This is the faces of the you
The presence of a we
Either apart or together
Which enables the transference
Of thought and love
In the present moment of presence
We are unlimited
We are open to all
We are boundless, as also is our joy
Then what better place for shelter
What neater place for being
Where we are free
To engage with our freedom
With the wonderful moment
Wrapped around us
We have memories
And also projections
Our gaze is both
Near and distant
Our protective shelters
Permit our unwavering
We may become vulnerable
We may feel deeply
Of all of our furthest desires
Which today may be limitless
Monday, 2 March 2020
Sunday, 1 March 2020
You lent me the word Conversation
You lent me the word Conversation
Which I would like to make more of
You sold me your House of Belonging
Which I would like to become my shelter
Your phrasing is familiar
I can hear you
As I read your words
The whole idea of one place
For one person
To invite many people
Yet, then
To be home for one person
Yes, that rather appeals to me
It offers itself up
As something I may once have had
As something I may have once again
Yet in this house already
There are many desks
Many places
For a quiet person
To write quietly
Or for an enraged person
To rant profusely
Or best of all
For one who is at peace to be peaceful
There are too many study books
On the peat herringbone Bowmore stool
Yet I am no intellectual
Nor do I have a strong deep memory
I forget the words
Almost as if I choose to discard them
In search of the more familiar shelters
Which I would like to make more of
You sold me your House of Belonging
Which I would like to become my shelter
Your phrasing is familiar
I can hear you
As I read your words
The whole idea of one place
For one person
To invite many people
Yet, then
To be home for one person
Yes, that rather appeals to me
It offers itself up
As something I may once have had
As something I may have once again
Yet in this house already
There are many desks
Many places
For a quiet person
To write quietly
Or for an enraged person
To rant profusely
Or best of all
For one who is at peace to be peaceful
There are too many study books
On the peat herringbone Bowmore stool
Yet I am no intellectual
Nor do I have a strong deep memory
I forget the words
Almost as if I choose to discard them
In search of the more familiar shelters
Saturday, 29 February 2020
There is a lightness to this day
There is a lightness to this day
A lightness in which I think I could find shelter
It is not simply a lightness
From the light of day
Although that lightness
Is with me in abundance
But there is a lightness in mind and body
Which arose through meditation and writing
It is there, within me and for me
It is around me, it is above me
It is that very same shelter
For which I have long been searching
I needed to hear the words
I needed to expose belief
That is the belief in faith
Without any substantive reasons
Yet also to be told, thankfully
That there is more out there
But that we will always
Be further from what we know
Than we are
At this very moment
Or the very next moment
And so life will go on, ad infinitum
A lightness in which I think I could find shelter
It is not simply a lightness
From the light of day
Although that lightness
Is with me in abundance
But there is a lightness in mind and body
Which arose through meditation and writing
It is there, within me and for me
It is around me, it is above me
It is that very same shelter
For which I have long been searching
I needed to hear the words
I needed to expose belief
That is the belief in faith
Without any substantive reasons
Yet also to be told, thankfully
That there is more out there
But that we will always
Be further from what we know
Than we are
At this very moment
Or the very next moment
And so life will go on, ad infinitum
Friday, 28 February 2020
Without the internet
Without the internet
I am encouraged
To be more prosperous and purposeful
To find a different kind of shelter
I am unable to tell the world
Of how I am feeling
Neither can I ask the souls of the world
What it is that they feel
Instead to tell the page
That the dream was repetitive
That it woke me at five
But then let me sleep again
Also to let the page know
That the sound of gulls
Always reminds me
Of days at the seaside
Yes, once I had a shelter
Within the iodine salted aroma
Of the sea or ocean
Where for a while time stood still
I was away from the world then also
Living, as they say
In the bubble
In the moment
And so I look to the leaves
Made to flicker by the breeze
I look at my neighbour's trees
And wonder if he is disconnected
I am not the hermit
Nor do I desire to be so
I have high hopes for conversation
Even for reconnection
I am encouraged
To be more prosperous and purposeful
To find a different kind of shelter
I am unable to tell the world
Of how I am feeling
Neither can I ask the souls of the world
What it is that they feel
Instead to tell the page
That the dream was repetitive
That it woke me at five
But then let me sleep again
Also to let the page know
That the sound of gulls
Always reminds me
Of days at the seaside
Yes, once I had a shelter
Within the iodine salted aroma
Of the sea or ocean
Where for a while time stood still
I was away from the world then also
Living, as they say
In the bubble
In the moment
And so I look to the leaves
Made to flicker by the breeze
I look at my neighbour's trees
And wonder if he is disconnected
I am not the hermit
Nor do I desire to be so
I have high hopes for conversation
Even for reconnection
Thursday, 27 February 2020
A walled garden offering shelter
A walled garden offering shelter
But this time is not my time
Today is not my day of days
I need to arrange a more private visit
The flowers are awash
With every living colour
The pond is full-on black
As if filled with Pelikan Indian Ink
But this time is not my time
Today is not my day of days
So I shall make a singular visit
Or view my thousand photographs
It is true I came here not knowing
Uncertain of what I might find
In that way then the joy
Counteracts the disappointment
Yet to use that word
Is way less than fair
For the sun it was shining
And a shelter was already there
Though not for me this summer house
And not for many a day I fear
For the wall within a wall
Is one wall too many today my dear
My mind asks too many questions
I cannot find a place to sit
The construct holds too many suggestions
I cannot be at one with it
This was not my day of days
It was not the time to be my time one bit
I ought to consider a rearrangement
When body, mind, and soul are more fully fit
But this time is not my time
Today is not my day of days
I need to arrange a more private visit
The flowers are awash
With every living colour
The pond is full-on black
As if filled with Pelikan Indian Ink
But this time is not my time
Today is not my day of days
So I shall make a singular visit
Or view my thousand photographs
It is true I came here not knowing
Uncertain of what I might find
In that way then the joy
Counteracts the disappointment
Yet to use that word
Is way less than fair
For the sun it was shining
And a shelter was already there
Though not for me this summer house
And not for many a day I fear
For the wall within a wall
Is one wall too many today my dear
My mind asks too many questions
I cannot find a place to sit
The construct holds too many suggestions
I cannot be at one with it
This was not my day of days
It was not the time to be my time one bit
I ought to consider a rearrangement
When body, mind, and soul are more fully fit
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