Meditation

One...

A Letter To Space

I send my thoughts into outer space. What life out there? What chance of reaching out, finding you? This is just a letter for love and hopefulness. To fill the emptiness with something small, maybe even insignificant, but to fill the space nevertheless. To make an impact on the universe. Moving around outside our heads, further afield of our own known space, beyond even some of our dreams.

At times my mind is out there, floating in space with the astronauts and the letters and the stars and Spiritualized on their 1997 record and well, everything. Looking on everything else from a totally new angle. Watching planets shift and spin on their axes from somewhere new. Unfathomably grand, beyond our wildest thoughts, but to open up the mind, to explore, to want to know the vastness of it all. The questions unanswered. Still asking. Still inquisitive.

Maybe I float by in space. Alone. Beautifully moving with nowhere to go. Just for the experience. Just to have something to write about. Just for the hell of it. What is inside the mind and what is not? The universe in my thoughts. Who knows. Somewhere we meet. We share. We love. We unite. Like stars colliding. Long lost lovers. Everything matters. I remember this fondly.

The Polish Train Crash

The horror. Awaiting all of us at any moment. Some time. There. Around the corner. The human error at times. The fallibility of us all. The mistakes await us, sucking us toward them. The Krakow-Warsaw train track. The railway line. The voices. The muffled voices. In an instant silenced. Like entering a tunnel. Never to emerge. Squeezing the life from the tube. Now the tube lies empty. Unnatural disasters. Avoidable and yet wholly valuable events. Sent to give meaning. Designed to highlight human weakness. Mankind's strength. To show where we need to improve. What a cost. Tragedy becomes us.

The train wreck. The mangled bodies within. The emergency services crawling all over the wreckage. (Ants on an ant hill.) Seeking trapped life. The art of the disaster. The broken families. The loss. Like the greatest love. The loves of the century. Two people. Destined to collide. To change the shape of each other's world forever. To make a dent on the face of history. Like two trains in the night. Two vessels. Forever remembered. Locked into infinity.

God bless all those affected. God bless you all.



This blog acknowledges the true events of the evening of 03/03/12 in Poland.

The Girls

Everything in waves. Always this way. The girls have hit the fore. Like a storm hitting. I have never known so many good female singer songwriters all on top form. The songs, the albums, the voices. Stunning and life affirming music. The crackle of intention and the vicious taking of the bull by its horns in the singing and the lyrics and every single molecule of music entering my ears. The girls are leading the way. The boys have been left behind.

Women are often second best in such scenes and are not fully given the same opportunities, or it is purely sexually biased, fuelled by image and blatant eroticism. Now there are many female artists simply writing the best and most challenging music. It forces its way through, it reaches the ears. It satisfies. Nobody can argue. Not with that.

Yes, there are many pretty sweet young things making music, and it doesn't go against them. The power of the music, the messages, the art, the desire behind much of it is what makes it win. I can never hear enough life changing music, beautiful sounds shaping the world around me, but I am fond of these bird like angels filling my senses. Long may they reign. Good work. The girls.

The One With No Name

Oh, the morning. Divine light spilling through my curtains, forcing me to open them, pulling me outside. Into the day. Spring has arrived. It seems. Golden envelope. Seal me inside. Keep me warm.

What of the day? What hope shall bound out of the wings and take centre stage? In what splendid fashion will such feasts greet my eyes? The unknowing. How wondrous. Wishing the world a happy day. Not expecting the thought to really get very far. Thinking it. Nevertheless. Thinking it all the same.

Monologue

There were bodies everywhere. All shapes and sizes. It was horrific really. Young, old, different shades of skin, different languages in the air, all kinds of eyes on faces, people with beer cans and cigarettes on the go. The whole world was here. The whole world was outside. The water was warm outside, the water was even warmer inside, cold in one small bath. All kinds of water splashing the sides of each pool. The people. The eyes. Moving in all kinds of directions. All over other people. Sordid. Dirty. Unclean. Minds. I was watching too, thinking these thoughts. My thoughts. Similar to others, but from  my own space. I was splashing, letting one of the streams of water coming from the wall above the pool hit the back of my head, tossing my hair all over the place, pushing it onto my face, curling long groups of strands onto my face, in my eyes. I was in a daze. For once, I was almost switching off. It was a bizarre feeling. I had been to school and had the usual series of adventure, entertainment and enjoyment in only three lessons and less than four hours at school. The school is special, drifting in and out of my thoughts permanently. I cannot avoid how deeply significant it is in my life. Kids faces, words, laughter, parts of lessons, all appear before me. Flashbacks, fond memories and inspiration for my every moment of daily life. Breathe. Breathe. Press on. Make the statement. Collapse at the end. Always at the end, never mid-song. The songs that make up life, the words, the ideas for lyrics and poems and stories and an endless stream of ideas that may just change the world. Who knows. Something has to come right. At some point. For the man who knows not what works. Follow the heart. Through black. Through tragedy. Through blinding light. I'm the man you think not. I can hear voices. In the walls. A true friend never submerges. Other countries. Moving ever forwards. The delicious food. The message from back home. The lights. The old fashioned metro. The speeding towards death. The beautiful ride.
(the sound of a man panting...)

My Mother and the Invincible Woman (Part Two)

It must be pulling at you. At your siblings. Pulling you apart. Pulling at the threads, opening up the fabric. Watching the stuffing as it spills from the growing tear. Like a broken teddy bear. It must be testing your heart. The patience you have been bestowed is being challenged. Can it cover you in this limbo land? The patience. Is it enough? The weeks drag on. Precious time. Precious from many angles.

Sail out to sea, my darling dear. Be afraid not of the waters, they will hold you and never let you go, take you to far off shores, beautiful places. It will always hold you, pulling you into its waves, its soul. Underwater dreams. Fear not the unknown, for she is the only certainty we truly have.

I can see you. Both of you. In this routine. Beautiful, tragic, trapped in time, lost. Everything exists. Nothing is broken. There are no tears. Only love. Love and all that accompanies it.

I will go even deeper at some point, but I cannot for now. The ocean in this place seems shallower. When I truly get lost the ocean bed will be encased in darkness. My words will create such a space, plunge us into the chasm of sadness and solitude. The home of mourning. The last page of it all. A ray of light will somehow appear and always penetrate this, the gloom. I will turn this into a place where life will blossom and life will bloom.

Step into the darkness and be filled with eternal light.