In the immense, swarming hive of London, it is easy to avoid human connection. Much easier to avert one’s eyes or block out the city’s voices with the headphones of one’s iPod.

So, it came as a pleasant surprise when I stepped into the crowded bus on Tuesday morning and was greeted by an older man with a trim beard, sparkly eyes and a jaunty hat. Our eyes met and we smiled at each other for a few moments. During the short bus journey, I turned to look at him a couple of times and he returned my gaze. As the bus approached its third stop, I felt a hand touch my own. I turned and the gentleman said ‘Goodbye’, before he alighted.

The other passengers around me were oblivious to this exchange, but it touched me deeply. There was something mystical about the encounter. Read more…

On Saturday, 10th March, three Yogic monks from all around Europe, arrive in Manchester, UK to sing and play music. They are coming to raise money for underprivileged children and hopefully ‘raise the roof’ as well. Read more…

I want to write and write and write.
Unfurl words,
curled like new ferns
inside me.

It is almost painful.
A joyful, beautiful pain
that breathes in
in-formation
through my senses.

Finally.
To pick up a pencil and
release, release.
Into this compact notebook
that promises to carry my dreams
on a sailboat into the night.

Oh, I just want to let them flow out
like rainwaters along the edges
of paved streets.
Flow out and trickle
into ears and eyes
and open like flowers
in moist mouths.

Moist mouths that kiss and whisper,
and relish shapes
of poetry.

how the spiritual folk do condemn
& they blame (or they think it’s a shame)
when my love doesn’t fit in their boxes
and though it may seem such a shame
all the same, it’s a game
i have chosen to play
and my heart’s at the stake
so i’d better keep straight
on the path, on my path
through the trees & the dark
but the dark is my friend
that i want to embrace
and the more i explore
i discover the face of my
Love is the dark as well as the
light is the non-path
as well as the path that delights you
so my path may not look
like the path that you know
it may even be so that it looks
not at all like a path, not to you
but i promise you, darling,
i stick to my path through
& through, true & true
and perhaps even truer

Pi to me a Kingdom is.
Such perfect joy therein I find,
that it excels all other bliss
that world affords or grows by kind.

Though much I think I feel I want,
and still my mind permits to crave,
Infinity goes on and on,
the splendour falling wave on wave.