cattle grid

15/03/2025

There was a cattle grid on the path. I crossed it, stepping on the round metal rods to get from one side to another – it was only a little over a metre from one side to the other. No sooner had I crossed when a cow sauntered up, walking the path in the opposite direction.

My initial thought was, “You must know where the kitchen is," for the cow was on the 'wrong' side of the cattle grid, in the area near a restaurant that it was meant to be excluded from. I sympathised. I often come upon fences, walls, barriers of one sort or another, from the 'wrong' side. It is an occupational hazard for those who like to wander off the beaten track.

I stopped to watch the cow, curious to see what it would do when faced with the cattle grid. It walked right up to it and paused for a second or so. Then it very simply and calmly stepped across, with one big step. Each hoof in turn passed from one brink to the other. The whole crossing was carried out with a superb precision. More impressive even than the precision was the nonchalance. Even when making such a large step, the cow still had the air of one sauntering without effort.

A few moments after passing, the cow paused again to give a loud, triumphant bellow. I sympathised again. I know only too well the feeling of annoyance when I come across a needless obstacle put in my path, and then the satisfaction of climbing over a wall or crawling under a barbed wire fence.

Nevertheless, I wish I lived in a world without fences, without walls, and without cattle grids.

what is essential?

13/05/2020

As I write this, a relatively new coronavirus is spreading amongst humans the world over. In order to slow this spread, many governments have told their citizens to stay at home. Cafés, restaurants and places of entertainment are all closed, as are many other businesses. It turns out that almost all of the frenetic modern lifestyle that we normally live is non-essential. So this pandemic is an opportunity for us to rediscover what is essential.

Acquiring and consuming food and water is, reasonably enough, deemed essential. And in the UK, where I find myself during this period, we are also encouraged to get some outdoor exercise – walking, running or cycling – each day. And that’s about it regarding material life.

One way of summarising the spiritual journey is as a search for what is essential within oneself: Who am I, really? These weeks of life being simplified and slowed down are a great opportunity for us to ask that question of ourselves. It is certainly showing us how much of our usual activity can be dispensed with – how all that doesn’t really determine who we are, deep down.

So let us grasp this opportunity and look within ourselves – through meditation or introspection – and see if we can begin to glimpse the essence of ourselves!

the long silence

10/05/2020

Some time has passed since I last put any new material on this website. Was that because I had physically died? No. Or perhaps because I had entered such a deep state of samadhi that all human communication became impossible? Sadly not. No, the reason was much more mundane – I got a job. And what I find with jobs where I am paid to think, is that I end up thinking too much, and that detracts from the depth of meditation.

I am happy to report that my working hours have now been reduced to around half what they were. I trust that will translate into a mind less busy with thoughts. Already I am hearing the birdsong more intensely, seeing and smelling the flowers more vividly, and delighting more in the fresh green leaves on the trees.

So, watch this space!

after shock

22/07/2018

Here in Arillas, Corfu, there is a nudist beach which I have been frequenting during summertime for many years. Yesterday I was whiling away the afternoon there, as I have so often done. Unbeknown to me, something different was about to happen. Wading into the beautiful, clear water to cool off, suddenly I felt my left foot receiving strong electric shocks – three of four zaps within a second.

My sun-induced languor was immediately dispelled. I shrieked and splashed my way through the water for a metre or two. Then I saw the source of my anguish: I had stepped on a marbled electric ray. It had been lightly buried in the sand and had now lifted off from its bed and was swimming leisurely away.

After this shocking treatment, I noticed that I was much more awake and alert. And this reminds me of the value of shock tactics on a spiritual path – the sudden whack of a zen stick, or ‘stop!’ shouted during a moving meditation. Such methods can cause our habitual mind to stall. Suddenly we are fully present, instead of being lost in thought or running on auto-pilot.

For me, the spiritual journey is about being present more and more of the time. I just hope that I don’t need too many electric shocks for that to happen!

after the wedding

17/04/2018

A wedding happened here at the normally tranquil Horizon guest house. For twenty-four hours the ceremony and celebrations disturbed the serenity of this place. And with that, my own serenity was disturbed. Whatever is in the field around me, I feel as if it were internal to me. Non-separation is not necessarily always a good thing, but it is a fact of life!

After a leisurely breakfast this morning, the wedding party departed and the guest house owner and his wife set about cleaning the space. With that cleansing, calmness returned and my being gave a sigh of relief.

This afternoon, walking on one of the nearby mountain paths, I noticed that my mind was unusually quiet. The natural beauty of these goat herders’ paths always puts me in a meditative frame of mind. Today though, the effect was even more marked. It seemed to me that a pendulum had swung from the bubbly chatter of the party to the profound silence of deep meditation.

So maybe disturbances are not so bad after all, if existence maintains the balance with an extra dose of stillness to compensate.

twenty-five years of reiki

20/03/2018

I recently passed the 25th anniversary of having been attuned to reiki.

I am no evangelist. I find it rather off-putting when someone is too enthusiastic about something, so I try to avoid making that mistake myself. However, I have to say, reiki is absolutely amazing. It sounds like a cliché but it’s true to say: reiki changed my life. It changed the whole course of my life.

For a quarter of a century, I have been blessed with this gentle, harmonising, healthful energy. It’s been with me like the most trusty friend, through thick and thin, always available when I was in need. And in some mysterious way, it has been steering me on my spiritual path. To this day, it remains at the core of my practice.

Spiritual practices, like most things in modern society, tend to follow fashions. Reiki is no longer the in thing. It’s a pity. What a different world we would be living in if everyone were attuned to reiki.

return of the orange chai stall

15/03/2018

There is a chai stall, painted orange, at the centre of the chaos which is Pahar Ganj, Delhi.

Standing, sipping a chai there this morning, I felt like I was in the eye of a storm. All around was the typical, noisy bustle of an Indian city going about its business in the cooler morning hours. The horns of cars, motorbikes and rickshaws contended with loudspeakers blaring absurdly distorted music. Street food vendors worked with an impressive efficiency, feeding the throngs which shared the road space with the honking vehicles, unfazed street dogs, perambulating fruit stalls and the odd holy cow.

The chai wallah at the orange stall happens to make the best street chai in Delhi.

A beautiful thing happened whilst I was sipping the chai. The more the caffeine and sugar and ginger penetrated into me, the more I began to feel at peace in the chaos. And with that peacefulness came appreciation. The world around me was still chaotic but I could also sense a flow, a dance, in the chaos. Somehow the fragmented components of the scene began to be felt as elements of a mysterious, organic whole.

Last time I was here, the orange chai stall was absent.

Sometimes one doesn’t really appreciate something fully until it disappears – paradise lost. If one has the rare good fortune for it to return, then one lives with both the pleasure and that full appreciation. It is thus with our awareness of our spiritual essence.

And so it is with the return of the orange chai stall – paradise regained!