Bare Bones

Bare Bones


Uncluttered and free

baggage of lost years

dissolve back to our Mother Earth.

Songs of intricate stories

held in bones where the Ancestors dwell

are aching bones,

petrifying bones,

shattered bones,

bones of courage where the weave of stories untold

gather back the fragments of our cracked open lives.



Image: Bare Bones ~ Flick Cook

17th May 2016 ~ Snailwell







The Big Dying


Very cold morning
my body ‘Goose bumps’ and shivers…..
car white with sleek patterened frost.
Fields a grey-green glimmering, shimmering light….
Skies shining – airy crispness singing…..
Golden beech leaves hanging on
like jewels dangling in the wintery light.
I layer up, pull on my boots
as I listen to a Reith lecture on
the ‘great unfixables’ –
ageing and death.
Perhaps we look too hard to
avoid ‘the big dying’
for Nature’s wisdom knows
regeneration comes.
There is no end but only
the cycles of the Natural world…..
So, I see Spring when I look into
this icy day and say:
“YES…. This is how it is for me…..”


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.


This Glorious New Day


This Glorious New Day

Trees, street lamp, bracken
filled the space across the road
till Sunday’s flash winds whipped them up
and threw them down like violated rag dolls….
Now rising sunlight sears through windows,
bakes red roof tiles, warms wildly piqued wasps
and I notice – my heart is thankful
for I have this glorious new day.


Being Present


Being Present

Being Present.

Morning sky of blueness
enhances bright pink cherry blossoms,
beyond the garden fence,
like a purple hazed duet hanging in the air.

Tumnus sits high on sunlit shed roof
watching wet, wintered ground
while delicate feathered creatures
sing their own “Spem in Alium”.

I sit writing in my room of lightness,
I breathe, I watch, I listen.
Domine Deus
Creator caeli et terrae.

Ref: “Spem in Alium” ( Hope in any other) – is a 40-part Renaissance motet by Thomas Tallis
Trans. third verse, lines three and four:
“Lord God,
Creator of Heaven and Earth”.

Photo: Pink cherry blossom by

Horse Chestnuts


Horse Chestnuts

These orbs ~
such radiant pleasure
to softening eyes.
Cracking open,
their prickliest
skins -revealing
juicy fulsomeness;
hearts filled with
browned Autumn’s
chocolatey glaze.
And you my love ~
where were you?
Where w e r e you
when these trees
began to die?
You were in my arms
as our tears fell,
just like falling leaves.