I am sitting here writing to you from the forest of Lake Tahoe, listening to Daniel Imhof’s ambient excursions playlist on Soundcloud (you can thank him for most of these letters), drinking a ‘cup of joe’ in honour of David Lynch, (which any trip to the US is always a DL honorary), and the snow is falling all around me through the windows of our old 80s motorhome ‘Gloria’ - aka the closest I get to heaven to earth - snow . I have been quiet here, I apologize, life has been li

The last few years cracked me open to a lot that had been waiting for me in the wings, mainly the soul of the world, and how it is interlinked with my own soul. And how I can be both whole and broken,   And how the world can be both whole and broken.   I had to take up an apprenticeship with grief. Not because I was a novice to experiencing loss and profound heartache, but because the immensity of the grief that my heart cracked open to, that extended beyond my own little lif

There is a TV clip bouncing around my algo bubble of a young Leonard Cohen telling a TV host interviewer “When I get up in the morning, my real concern is to discover whether or not I’m in a state of Grace.” I love myself some satsang with the late LC.   The TV host wants to know what he means by ‘a state of Grace’, and LC goes on to give an example of an escape ski, just riding the contours of the terrain. What he speaks about is the meeting of reality, the meeting and let

I used to spend most of my young life believing that there was something wrong with me. I felt too much, and it was overwhelming and often painful. So I began to numb and to dissociate, I didn't have any elders or anyone to introduce me to practices that could help me become a wider channel for the immensity of life to move through me. So I made myself more narrow, more closed, more numb, I dreamt of becoming untouchable. This was a promise that lured me into early stages o

'Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin...

It was 6am in the liminal space of daybreak, lounging at the ambient stage at Garbicz festival in Poland a couple of weeks back, immersed...

The dictionary tells me that ‘the word ‘ pilgrimage ’ comes from the Latin word peregrinus , meaning "foreigner," "stranger," or...

It is not always available for us to open the fist we oftentimes clench around our heart or our experience, but even remembering our suffering, our conflicts (inner & outer), our loneliness, our stinging sense of separateness as simply an act of contraction, can open up for the slightest possibility to remember, recognize, maybe even touch into the place underneath it all that is “un-contracted”.