Touching the Emptiness

Touch the emptiness

Stretching deepness

Cooling depths

Old memories

Black and white

Like old movies

Funny feelings

As if I could touch

Touch the emptiness

It’s on the edge

As if momentarily


Was that my childhood?

Was that really me?

Stretching deeply

To touch the emptiness

Its’ dreamlike quality

Chasing that thought

Is there a reason?

Am I all for naught?

Touching the emptiness

Building a soulful thirst

Driving onwards ever wearily

Towards the setting Sun

Yet didn’t it just begin?

Started in the sixties

Images, floating illusions

Touching the emptiness

My father has already gone

He prepares the place

Wherever that is as he

Touches the emptiness

Birth, Death, emptiness

Cyclic like the seasons

I came from the emptiness

And there I will return

Reaching out, stretching

On the edge of my memory

Touching the edge of emptiness

Once again


Image is Emptiness by Leafbreeze7.




Fifty Shades of Food

Crispy tomato

Ham smothered in bread

Lettuce and raddish

Give me some fried eggs

Drizzle me something

Make it sweet or sour

Bacon sizzles in the pan

Can you smell it?

I bet you can


Creamy potato

Luscious fried chicken thighs

Onions and garlic

Whip me up some cream

Dazzle me in calories

Make them hot or cold

My cheesecake is rising fast

Bring it on baby

The die is cast


Cheesy toasties

Sinful seasoning too

A Cherry on top

A sultry salty turnip to go

Shoot me some ketchup

Come and fry it up

A saucy strudel explosion

Deliciously rude

And saucy emotion



Hard Dreams

Since we moved back into our apartment in Brno, I have dreamed and dreamed hard. Every night. Vivid dreams that I don’t always recall much of but recall the vividness all the same. I wonder, why would that be?

I seem to dream of planes a lot. I watch as they take off, stall, bounce (!) and then explode. Or I watch planes flying low and last night, I watched a plane flying and being constantly struck by lightening from a cloud above. My dreams are vivid but dark like horror movies. Not frightening but menacing in terms of the visuals and atmosphere. Last night, I was running to escape something and everywhere I run there was someone or something so I had to shift direction again. I had no idea what I was running from nor what threat these people held.

Another facet of these dreams is large, old and unconventional houses. Last night, my bedroom was like something from a horror movie – all wood and oak panels – but it had no roof nor walls from the rest of the house but a tent structure to place over it at night.

The night before, as I was dreaming, a voice said as clear as day in my ear – completely unrelated to my dream the following words…: “X has collapsed and died” I awoke in confusion and had to get up and check my messages and phone to be sure both then and in the morning that X was in fact still alive and kicking.

So, why am I dreaming these vivid dreams? What do they mean?

Of course, I only now recall a fraction of them but I do recall the other night taking a Taxi that went into a tunnel system below the City. Due to blocked tunnels and gates we could not get to the airport I was going to until we bumped into my usual taxi driver who was able to give us a route that worked. Arriving at the airport, I had forgotten my bag, passport and other items and couldn’t board.

I don’t recall having had such a period of vivid dreams ever before……. hard dreaming I call it.



The Journey

I see inside with dream-like vision
I glide through slinky lines of time
Silver lights and golden kites
I bathe in light and gently recline
Like feeling carelessness’ caress
Ripples moving up and down my spine
Thunderous sounds so boldly loud
Speak? These tongues simply opine
Tunnels filled and gently moved along
Dancing faeries all in a line
I drift and travel onwards still
Into worlds and realms of mine
Is this truly my heaven then?
In the stillness of this un-time
Deeper and yet deeper still
Into this universe of patient calm
Knowing that whatever I foresee
I am certain that it’s really mine


Life’s Junk

Just over 7-years ago, I arrived in the Czech Republic with one suitcase. Later, I shipped one box to myself. It wasn’t a large box. I left a large house stuffed to the brim with stuff and do you know what, I didn’t really miss any of it. Anything I did miss turned out to have a connection to someone in my life. I did miss being able to look at certain photographs of my family, my boys, my parents, my college days. I did miss the framed picture bought for me as a gift by my Aunt in New Orleans as it reminded me of my Uncle who died too young. I missed a few items – trinkets mainly – given to me by my father and by my mother. All of these have since been retrieved. I also did subsequently panic about where my Ph.D thesis was again because its a one off put together the hard way before word processors and easy printing. My son has it so its safe.

So here I am 7-years later and we begin to pack to move back to Brno from Prague. Once again, I am surrounded by life’s junk. The stuff you think you need but really don’t. The stuff you keep because you may actually one day need it but never do. How did I accumulate so much crap again? Why?

What is it that I really value? That’s the question I ask myself right now. To be honest, it is again the small treasures probably worthless to anyone else that have an association with someone special that are the only things I value. The photograph of my Father on Eigg, the photo of my eldest son sat in the cockpit of a 747 mid-atlantic (shows how dated that is!), the electric guitar that I spent more than a year delivering newspapers at 1GBP per week to purchase, the photo collection of my boys, my parents and my brothers, the letter Gabriela sent to me with a 4-leaf clover in it and perfumed, the family history notes my Dad made as we worked on our ancestry together, the drawings, paintings and scribblings of my daughter saved in folders….. you get the drift.

At the end of the day its about memories but more importantly its about people for the treasured items are people-focused and trigger memories. Those memories are both good and not so good but they are strong and vibrant. When I move, I take with me my memories. I don’t need to pack them in a bag they are just there and a certain item, a certain smell will conjure them immediately in my mind. I suppose these memories, experiences, are the treasure that we accumulate in life while we somehow also accumulate so much bloody material junk.


The Importance of Asking Questions

Some days I wonder. About everything. I mean, there is a lot to wonder about isn’t there?

Why do men have nipples?

Why don’t Czech men know about deodorant?

Why is GOD DOG spelt backwards?

Why does Wayne Rooney get paid so much money?

What happened to Trilobites?

That sort of question. Questions to which there are really no definitive answers.


My favorite question is ‘What am I?’ I see and interact with a world that I sense but I at times of perhaps total lunacy entertain the idea that it is My world. There is only me. Everything is me. It maybe sounds arrogant but I don’t mean it that way. There is just a gulf between the real (me) and what seems to be real (the world) that confounds me.

I have always thought like this and asked those questions. Even as a child. ‘What am I?’ ‘Why am I here?’

Not being able to answer these questions literally drives me mad. I cannot stand the not knowing what the hell everything is. It must be something surely but why? See! Questions and questions.

We must always ask questions and contemplate even if there is no answer. In the quiet contemplation of the question, images and thoughts arise spontaneously as insights. We may not ever answer the question itself but we can prise open some other secrets along the way.

Visualizing the Future

A few weeks ago I wrote an article about a new way to pray in which I highlight a youtube video that says the way to pray isn’t to ask for something but to imagine you already have it. Then yesterday, I came across this article that talks about using the power of imagination to rehearse an outcome. Apparently, it is used particularly by sports people. Magic, is creeping into everything these days it seems.

Yes, this is magic – the old wicked, evil occult stuff……

The basis of magic is to empower and enflame the imagination to visualize something that we would like to see happen in our reality. We do this by using symbols that focus our imaginings on what it is we want. We can use a particular incense to focus our imagination via sense of smell, we can use colors representative of a specific sephiroth on the Tree of Life because that Sephiroth is equated to particular things or properties, we can invoke Gods or Goddesses, planets or metals in the same manner, we can dress and act in a way that reinforces our imaginings. All the trappings of magic, circles, swords, candles, incense etc. – just all ways to focus the mind and the senses on visualizing more strongly on what it is we are seeking.


We are using the power of imagination assisted by some tools designed to focus that imagination even more powerfully in an act of prayer or rehearsal of our future. This is magic or a form of magic.

Seeking Neverland

As a young child I think I was quite innocent. Perhaps I was a tad over protected by my parents or perhaps I was just built that way. To be honest I do not know. I do know though that I had (and to some degree still do have) an imagination. My imagination was such that I drew other children in to my fantasy land and when I left it even momentarily, they stopped playing there. It was as if I were the catalyst for whatever fantasy we built. It was I that built layer upon layer of substance out of sticks, dustbins, stones and such. I would often delay having to go to the bathroom simply because I knew that on my return, the fantasy would be lost, gone, over. Looking back, it was if I created and wove the dance we danced in my childhood reality. And perhaps I did.

I dreamed well too. Better then than now. Lucid dreaming, something I find difficult these days, came naturally to me then. I would willfully continue a dream night after night picking up right where I recalled leaving off. One dream was about a girl. She lived in a castle-like house on an island. It was a small island with steep cliffs all around and it started with me finding a cave and working my way up to find the house. Looking in through a window I saw a girl. She was beautiful and I loved her as soon as my eyes saw her (she was my age in the dream – 6 or 7 perhaps). She looked sad and I wondered how such a pretty girl living in such a house could be so sad?

One day she caught sight of me. We made signs and faces through the window. She even smiled. But she kept looking around nervously. She would shoo me away at times and I would hide and spy as the witch-like lady entered the room and the girl would cry. I eventually discovered the witch-like lady was an evil old hag who practiced black magic in the basement and caves below the house. She abused the girl who was her niece. I discovered the girl’s parents had died leaving her in the care of this wicked Aunt. As the dream continued, she would let me in and we would play happily in that room until the Aunt came and then I would hide or leave or hide and then leave my heart pounding like a drum.

In the end, I was discovered and caught. The girl and I were taken to the basement and we were tied up. Somehow, we escaped and turned the tables on the wicked witch ridding the world of her via her own evil magic once and for all. The girl was free. She was happy and smiled and we would play until, eventually, the dreams stopped.

These dreams took place over an extended period of time and if you analyze them they have elements of all fairy tales don’t they? The wicked witch, the sad and mistreated niece or step daughter and the prince who frees the girl and, in the end marries her. The part of me that faces and confronts something within me and defeats it in order to reconcile other aspects of myself.

When I look back now at my childhood I wonder at how magical it was. I wonder at the abilities I seem to have lost or misplaced as I have grown older and become a part of another world. Imagination is a precious commodity and the art of dreaming is a wonderful and magical tool to heal oneself. I am convinced at times that I really lost something growing up, something truly magical. Some gift I was born with. Perhaps we all have. You see the problem is that “The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it.

peter pan

JM Barrie and Peter Pan has some interesting quotes throughout in my opinion that now resonate with me. Just consider the following and perhaps you will agree…

There could not have been a lovelier sight; but there was none to see it except a little boy who was staring in at the window. He had ecstasies innumerable that other children can never know; but he was looking through the window at the one joy from which he must be for ever barred.”

Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.

You know that place between sleeping and awake, that place where you can still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always think of you.

All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.

You see, the thing I miss about being a child is my Peter Pan. Everyone of us has Peter Pan within us and we lose him growing up. Some of us never realize it nor care but others, like me, keep looking and searching for Neverland knowing that, not only does it exist but I once went there all the time…..

So what am I Then?

Reality leaves a lot to the imagination. ~John Lennon

So what am I then?
Just a bunch of atoms
Whirling and swirling
I am mostly space
if the truth be known

Nothing exists except atoms and empty space; everything else is opinion. ~Democritus

What animates me?
Am I like virtual reality
Imagineered like Disney
For fun
Or something much more
Returning to the place it

Few people have the imagination for reality. ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

What is it I see?
Moreover, how do I feel
Is it just electrons
Is it all just material
Physically constrained

Did you ever wonder if the person in the puddle is real, and you’re just a reflection of him? ~Calvin and Hobbes

Are we connected?
All things are The One
Am I you, you me
A God?
Existing through eternity?
If so, Wouldn’t that be
A Sod!

Obsessed by a fairy tale, we spend our lives searching for a magic door and a lost kingdom of peace. ~Eugene O’Neill


The Last Observer – a novel about reality and magic – out now.