gulls at furrow


Even when tears are there
in the pit of your stomach,
they are sometimes deeply and painfully stuck
while your sad face goes on creasing and cringing up.
It’s like furrowed ground
turned over and under in late summer,
as we wait for noisy Gulls to dip and drag the worms
in their wild, wet beaks; shrieking in flight.
And the days draw in, pulling down the dark
as if into the blood lines of your heavy heart.
Horse Chestnuts roll out of broken shells, gleaming brown
and you remember Spring, like dawn, always comes again,
however rough the night has been.

Wire & Water


Wire & Water

I hold my breath.

Gerberers sit in fresh water,

wired around their stems to

support their short, colourful lives.

Someone I love needs wire,

they also need fresh water ….

Without either of these,
life will be short….

clipped and slipped

into the chute of timelessness .

I am running out of wire

and I can no longer carry water…..

“After enlightenment,

chop wood, carry water.”


Photographer: Zoe Ferrie

Retreat day 3: The Sacred Geometry of Karma


Early morning email to two dear friends:

I have come to my ‘writing desk’ here behind Beeston Bump in Norfolk, as the sun rises above it and the walkers begin another day of their climb to the top….. it’s not vast, if you’re a walker but for me to even start it is too much and so, due to the emotional surge behind the longing to do it myself, knowing the sea is on the other side, I have set myself a challenge….. 2-3 years to be fit enough to do it.

Suddenly, when texting you this morning I had something fall into place for me. I am sure greater, more intellectually astute people have known this for a long time but for me, it was a revelation. I have always been fascinated by Sacred Geometry and sound – Cymatics. Dr Emoto’s work on sound and water, for example.

So what I am thinking about this morning is this question we are so frequently faced with: “Why do we have so many things going wrong so rapidly one after another and another and then, another?” Our lives are blighted by them. This started happening for me in 1995 virtually right after mum died. It was relentless and if I’m honest, it still is. Though now, I have learned through psychotherapy to roll with the punches, as there is nowhere to hide.

Shit happens? Well, I’m not so sure and never have been, that this is the case. Neither is it – “God’s fault” …… I was heavily into Christianity a long time ago and this verse always sticks in my mind: Numbers 14:18 ‘The Lord is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, forgiving iniquity and transgression, but he will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children, to the third and the fourth generation.’
As much of the bible, I believe this is a metaphor. No science to back things up or even explain the balance of life and how it came about….. it is still all true but it’s the language which made it possible to comprehend.

I believe Sacred Geometry explains at least an aspect of it….. Perhaps, trying to puzzle the meaning of life and all things human is a nonsensical pursuit but for me, there IS out there somewhere a structured yet fluid answer to the whole! I pursue it with pleasure….. 🙂

So – to the crux of what I want to offer as cud to chew on….. Sacred geometry being a template for life, surely, if we consider for a while that the balance of things is disturbed by the choices we make, then a father disowning a daughter for being ‘with child’ 300 years ago, the geometric shape of the template is disturbed, twisted, broken. If this is the case then events in my maternal ancestry had become so disturbed, that it has achieved a domino effect in the lives of her children, grandchildren and now great grandchildren also. Using my mother’s death as an example of the flood gates of chaos and destruction in the family being opened when she passed, then something quite dark is likely to have occurred either in her life ( I believe it did) or in the generation before. Interestingly, the rest of her siblings don’t appear to have been affected which in my mind confirms what I believe to have happened to my mother. The template for her life was shattered and the knock on effect is being experienced today in my family and in my sister’s also.

http://www.theosophiaistheway.com/Being_IAM/ISIS/Scrd_Geo_overview.html :

“The study of sacred geometry has its roots in the study of nature, and the mathematical principles at work expressing in form the unfolding of life from seed to flower to fruit to seed infinitely manifesting a recurring structure and order. On every scale, every natural pattern of growth or movement conforms inevitably to one or more geometric shapes that contain the blueprint of Creation and the genesis of all form. In sacred geometry, symbolic and sacred meanings are ascribed to certain geometric shapes and in certain geometric proportions, created by man such as in architecture, and viewing the human body as compiled into the Vitruvian Man drawing by Leonardo Da Vinci.”

So, this is my morning musings and as a result, a brief outline as to why ‘shit happens’……. how we rebuild the sacred template, I have yet to discover, although I suspect the likes of you and I are doing the work through our dedication to healing ourselves through Psychotherapy and by other means.

Much love as ever my darling(s) xxxx

Fliss xxx

Retreat Day 2: Blackberries are not the only Fruits



Day two of my mini retreat and I find it has been a day of gathering in the harvest of my life’s trainings, desires and dreams. Today I have created a Facebook page for my new psychotherapy practice: Cambridge Integrative Psychotherapy Services and have published it. The next thing on the agenda, later this week, is a website… I can’t imagine it will be as easyI

I have also gathered some of Norfolk’s divine hedgerow blackberries to take home tomorrow. I am so pleased with the coming back to myself that I have managed in two days. There is a clarity which has come from being courageous like never before, from being overwhelmed too many times, from actually saying YES to the bit of me which craves solitude and silence. Nothing is ever truly silent as the earth hums and has a pulse of its own as do we ….. but rarely do we hear our own sounds….. breaking away from the world,  we begin to hear before we have learned to listen. It’s in the hearing that we become curious and only then do most of us truly listen to ourselves.

The irony is of course…. so often, when we do listen to what is right for us, others become disturbed. This creates havoc for us at our core, if we are not strong enough to hold our ground over what is right for us. Therefore, we must listen before a thief runs away with our sense of self.

Picking blackberries takes me back to happy times…. blackberrying with mother where the sense of self was ‘safely’ entwined with hers….. even that was Maya’s work – the veils of illusion….. no one can give us the peace and security we dearly crave …… except perhaps when we experience the spiritual act of gathering blackberries, alone.

Savouring my last few hours here, I am closing down my computer and phone distractions and retreat back into stillness.


Retreat Day 1: a bolt hole from the world…..


Here I am … slept like an irritable mog who can’t ruffle up the cosy cot enough to be happy.

It was grim at 7am – no rain but a very sullen face on the sky hanging around up there wondering what to do…. It looked like it too had woken up too early. Damn… no milk. I wish I were a vegan or something as I’d know what to do. I find that. Those skinny (no slight intended here!) vegans I know always seem to know what to do about food….. I don’t get it somehow…. but then they are the ones who still drink soya milk….. so, maybe not such a good plan to envy them, or anyone else, as we all end up as dust in the end anyway…..

A dear friend of mine was batting ” What the hell” up into the air with almost a singing tone to her voice last week…. “Yeah, what the hell” said I….. “What the’trucking’ hell does any of it matter at the end of the day?” ( I have coined the word ‘trucking’ as a substitute for an expletive my daughter typo-ed yesterday!) I mean, we have lived this life into our sixties and are tired… (are you tired too?) yep, wretchedly exhausted with having to meet everyone else’s targets, other people’s requirements and desires for us. People think they know you and quite frankly, I have spent most of my life wondering who the ‘truck’ I am, so how on earth they think THEY know, I have no idea! No doubt an idealised image of what they want me to be, through their own personal filter in their mind’s psychological computer.

I had to go out…. I had to get some milk and ended up with a few other things too, including a charity shop purchase, for 80p two children’s books ….. I drove to Overstrand and sat in the car park where I read one of them…. you see, I am doing things I don’t normally do and refraining from things I DO normally do! Reading a children’s book is such a delightful thing to do if, and only if the illustrations are bothered over…. I mean, the stuff our children and grandchildren are subjected to these days in the way of picture books, well why do some people bother!….. I climbed into “Puddle Street” on those pages, in the snow (in a blazing hot Sunday afternoon in September on the edge of the sea in Norfolk!) and felt the cold frosty whiteness all around me as the children delivered Christmas stockings to everyone’s door in the village…. I mean, you know, you just can’t let these delicious little books be ALL for the kiddies, can you? My inner child went into the book to play; what a great time she had …..

I’m avoiding noise, television, radio….. people. I am allowing the silence. I am noticing I need probably at least two more weeks than these three little days can provide. I knew that would be the case but even so, the coming down out of the gear which keeps me pushing on in the same old rut as this society just ‘loves’ to be in, is not an easy task. It’s laced with arsenic, slippery greasy ropes and angst as I try to haul myself back to me and I ask…. Will I be forever trying to escape the clutches of the ancestors trying to pull me down into the pit….? For me, the person I am, is wanting to unzip this baggage and step out, as myself – not a michelin man substituting for a member of the family.

I come, driven mad
by hungry spectres within
and without, who pluck
the fibre of my being
loose like stuffed toys squeezed empty.

And it’s all a journey. Now that I have stuffed my stuffing back in, I shall go back to my meditation chair and ponder on the state of resistance…..

……do comment if you would like to, if you dare…. we are all on the conveyor belt to eternity in one form or another though we don’t have to be singing from the same score!