Thursday, 23 June 2011

Love is ...

Love is not an illusion. It is a fact. - ACIM

Tell Me On A Sunday

Recently, I joined a couple of friends for a wonderful evening of outdoor cabaret to help raise money for the Red Cross. Claire had made a big scrumptious picnic for us consisting of cooked meats, salad leaves, new potatoes, chips, strawberries and banana loaf , washed down with a flask of green tea.

My main reason for attending the cabaret was to support my beloved Elloa who would be singing a solo called Tell me on a Sunday. According to Ell the last time she was asked to sing a solo was in secondary school, and she felt so frightened that she was unable to sing a note! So, this was a crucial moment for Ell as she attempted to make the journey from fear to love.

Supporting each other is an essential part of this grand adventure as we make the higgledy journey back to the land of milk and honey. Sunshine or rain - its all the same when you are in the business of love. I especially enjoy walking alongside Elloa because she is a smashing person, and we both have lots in common e.g. meditating, riding bikes and eating cake.

So, I silently blessed her with unconditional love and wrapped her in the warmth of loves embrace, afterall it takes incredible courage to stand up and sing in front of a crowd of people.

When Elloa sang the angels rushed to meet her. Her fragile voice danced in the wind, gently tugging at my heartstrings and I became  tearful. And from a nearby oak tree a blackbird provided harmonies. I witnessed this magnificent woman walk straight out of this world and through another to peace and joy. WOW!

‘Listen - perhaps you catch a hint of an ancient state not quite forgotten; dim, perhaps, and yet not altogether unfamiliar, like a song whose name is long forgotten, and the circumstances in which you heard completely unremembered . Not the whole song has stayed with you, but a little wisp of melody, attached not to a person or a place or anything particular. But you remember. From just this little part, how lovely was the song, how wonderful the setting where you heard it, and how you loved those who were there and listened with you.’ - ACIM

Monday, 20 June 2011

Fathers Day

Today is Fathers day.

Here is a picture of Dad and me looking really happy .

Sadly, my Dad is no longer with us because he died from cancer and this makes me feel sad.

Todays is Fathers day.

Here is picture of my Dads Dad ...

Sadly, my Dad never got to be happy with his Dad because he stopped being friends with him.

According to Pops, Jim SNR was a womaniser and a bully. He would often disappear for days on end and then show up like nothing had happened. Dad told me that  he was only aged 5 or 6 when the war started between his parents. Dad became so scared that he would leave the house and walk the streets. One time he returned to an empty house. Supposedly, Jim SNR had told a neighbour that they were moving home and emptied the house of all its contents leaving the family with nothing. 

My Dad once told me that he didn't know what a normal loving father/ son relationship was. He was never cuddled or shown affection, and grew up feeling unwanted. Consequently Jim JNR never forgave his father for all his wrongdoings and their relationship fell apart like a tatty old sweater.

For many years, Dad and me didn't see eye to eye either.The road became dark, twisted  and lonely. Then one day the pain became so unbearable that I was forced to my knees. I made the unwavering decision to heal my relationship with my father.  Rather than shrink away from truth I chose to walk towards it - peeling away unresolved layers of  guilt and shame along the way, which I  had unconsciously been carrying for my father and his father before him. This toxic guilt and shame  had become so tightly wrapped around my heart that I had become cut off from my emotions. Eventually, I succumbed and what revealed itself was a hurting child walking wounded - and that child was the embodiment of father and son. I held the child closely and in that moment my relationship with my father was transformed and healed. I had remembered love.

This inner work I have undertaken is radical because it goes against the worldly grain. The butterfly effect states that a butterfly flapping its wings somewhere in the jungles of Asia can eventually start a tornado in Texas. When I changed my mind about my father the wings of love started to flap and  I experienced a miracle. Through having the courage to forgive I was able to give to my father the love I thought that I was denied as a child. We held each other and cried - father and son. And in that moment the tear in the sacred fabric started to reweave itself and the way forward became easier.

 Incidentally, today is the first time I have ever seen a picture of my grandfather. In life he may have had a hard shell but beneath the surface he was  a broken man unable to tell his son that he loved him because he didn't feel loved in his own life.

Today is  Fathers day ...

Only the love remains.

 ' We must be about our Fathers business which means the business of our Source which is love and love only. Anything loving that we do or think contributes to the healing of humanity. Any turning away from love literally holds back the planet . We are perched on the brink of a miraculous transition from the ways of fear to the ways of love.' - Marianne Williamson

Around the time Pops was diagnosed with ’that lung cancer’ a lady contacted the family saying that she was my fathers half sister. She was on a heroines journey attempting to retrace her family roots to regain her sense of self. Sadly, Hazel never got the opportunity to meet her brother before he died. But since then she has been embraced wholeheartedly by our family. I pray that the work I have done with my father allows her to be closer to him,and that her heart is repaired, even though she never met her own Father and half brothers and sisters. Auntie Hazel - I dedicate this post to you.

Sunday, 12 June 2011


During the early hours of this morning whilst driving home from a gig I accidentally hit and killed a rabbit.

I immediately stopped Winston and walked back up the desolate road. The rabbit lay quivering in the middle of the road. I crouched down beside it and looked into its eyes, and said to the rabbit, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you. You ran out.” I also said that it was safe to let go, watching tearfully as it took its last breath.

As the rabbit took its final breath I reflected on the fragility of life in a body - how I sometimes fill my life with assorted paraphernalia in a desperate bid to avoid having to face the inevitable - death. In such moments I become like the frightened rabbit, twisting, turning, looking for love in all the wrong places, paralysed by the headlights. This fear keeps me from embracing life.

The rabbit is afraid of committing to moving in a direction that may help it get away from the car - because it’s dazzled by the lights. These are the lights of our lives. We forget that the choice is always within our grasp, no matter how bright the illusory lights may appear to be. The answer is always within; it was waiting there the whole time, just to be remembered. And when we remember, anything is possible.

‘The story of the human race is the story of men and women selling themselves short.’ Abraham Maslow
As I made my way back to the car a new day was dawning; I stood on a bridge overlooking a river. The pre dawn light was absolutely breathtaking - a strange mist was rising above the water, backlit by a golden glow. A barn owl flew across the water and into a nearby tree and bird song filled the morning air. I wept at the simple beauty of it all. I prayed for the release of every rabbit on the planet who has become dazzled by the headlights of this so-called life.