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Today my five year old and I were talking about our home. Which is modest to some and luxury to others. It depends which nib fits the writer and the slant of the reader. When I expressed how lucky we were: to have a safe

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Life is a funny old bird, if we are lucky. It occurred to me that every day we experience events that are uniquely ours. Some (most) of them are never shared, discussed, even see the light of day beyond the immediacy of their happening to happen

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This wild abandon of faith and the minutiae of the practical, tickled me. It made me laugh, out loud. Yes trust, but not pathologically. Make practical provision, take action or watch your horse bolt. When we put everything outside ourselves we are abdicating our role. If we just sit back and

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I am Joan of Arc, among other women. On those heroic Joan days, I ride brazenly, faith in hand and love in pocket, unswervingly confident that everything is light, guided, deliberate and engaged. There are other days when it is easy to stumble on the laces of 'realism'

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What if we became reductionists, scrutinising action until we could discern the ocean of love in one thought? What if we stood back from the ego's gluttenous hankerings and pulled the carpet away from under the grand voice of achievement? Silence the haranguing voice of failure to the quick. Only then could

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I sat by a quiet fire this week and watched the flames dance and burn. It surged, abated, raged, finally quietly sizzled and deadened itself in its own chug of black smoke. Leaving a charred piece of wood, used up and tired. Not quite useless, dry enough

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I am living. Yes, but is my every thought and action imbued with a quality of uncompromisingly honest and ruthless vitality? Am I alive? It all starts and ends with the breath. Concept and conclusion. Our USB portal to this world, to each moment of our

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I received these as a gift yesterday, to the layman they are known as a bowl of nuts. I was informed that they were not just any nuts, they were my favourites. Funny. They just looked like little wooden balls to me, nothing I recognised. Certainly not

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