From Poetry to Manic Mowing
They met every Monday morning under the shade tree at Skimmilk Farm, Jean’s summer farmhouse in rustic New Hampshire. Dusting the old house, keeping it clean from summers of fun, was less important than Monday mornings when this serious group of poets gathered to muse over mist-covered mornings, cats, Celtic Goddesses, vulvas, and many more themes that released…
Fear All Over
It is a key drawing in the process of my relief from major programs in the subconscious. It describes fear. There is a body there and it is full of small waves of fear. The fear goes everywhere, the head, the chest, the hands, the muscular stomach and the pelvis. There are three places where,…
Connection Unknown, Unexplained, but Recognised….
Running in bare feet is a bit like having a puppy or a baby, it lends itself to connection and conversation… I met a man in the park yesterday called Jim. He was walking round the huge playing fields in Enfield with his black labrador Casandra and my naked feet opened the dialogue… We then…
A Portal to Wholeness
We’ve all traveled through portals to become whole at some point in our lives. Or so it seems, or seemed, during the summer of 2000, when I lived with Jean and her family on her New Hampshire farm, where I had committed a season to healing my hip. When I refer to portals, I mean…
Two Paintings
I did so many paintings from the time I wrote about one. I’ll do a summary of two, as I look at them now. Here is a painting that I called: Birds and Water. It was done in a daydreaming state, imagining a place I’d like to experience. There are parts of birds in light…
It Takes All Sorts..!
I am sitting in ‘The Larder’ coffee shop, waiting for Anadi who is making his way from a meeting in central London… I have had a wonderful morning which has involved running round and around in circles… A joyous delight for me; as I say at the end of my vlog… ‘It takes all sorts…’!…
From Feast to Nightmare
The sounds of crickets and bullfrogs filled in the silence of the encroaching night as we sat at the long dining room table of the old New England farmhouse, singing musical show tunes. It was no ordinary evening. My elder poet housemate, Jean, and her son John, her granddaughter Emily, and Emily’s mom, Cassie, (and…
Two Good Friends in The Tree House
Two good friends in the tree house This is a painting from two days ago. I did not write about all of the art that I made. Many times there is a painting to write about but I want to paint more, so a gap forms. I wanted to clear everything or actually to accept…
Our Feet Got Joyously Deliciously Wet…
I have been walking through Salisbury in my bare feet in the rain; the feel of warm damp stones on the soles of my feet connected me even more to the energy of this city than when I first stepped off the train onto the dry pavements… The smell of the rain on a warm…
The Power of the META-Health Process
I’ve recently been working with a new client using one of my favourite ‘tools’ – META-Health. I thought I’d share a little more about this here. META-Health seeks to answer the following questions: why am I sick? why now? why this sickness? why this part of my body? I believe that the body doesn’t make…
My Unpredictable Summer of 2000
My summer, 17 years ago: weathered New England roads; a two-hundred-year-old-plus farmhouse that was once an old milk farm; an elder poet, Jean, who held poetry workshops every Monday for the past 25 summers; her granddaughter, Emily, and Emily’s mother, Cassie, who spent weekends with us; Jean’s cat, Tristan, handsome, black, and both elegant and…
The Final Acceptance of Everything
I am starting this project. The final acceptance of everything. It will be like Dzogchen through art. And I start from this painting, which I did at night, around 1 am, with the experience of this strong and crazy pain that was sharper than the usual, to which I have gotten used already. I prop the…