In the kitchen, after dinner

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In the kitchen, after dinner

In the kitchen, after dinner

It seems I spend my life crouched in some cold kitchen with an upturned glass and a torn piece of card,  trying to capture time as though it could still thrive, contained in an elegant dome of my choosing. Moments, shivering and rare, scuttle across the floor wishing not to be trapped nor admired by those who do not realise that these silver, suffocated things are ancient eagles  soaring over empty mountains, wide wetlands that stretch in a shimmering curve  all the way to the sky.

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Misconceptions about meditation

Misconceptions about meditation

I went on a weekend meditation retreat a little while ago and, without doubt, the most frequent comment I received from colleagues on Monday was: “Oh, it must have been so relaxing!” Well, yes.  And no.   Yes, because I was away from the traffic and noise of London, away from work, away from the constant pinging of technology and away from anybody I knew, just for a couple of nights.  The retreat took place in the countryside so, of course, being able to walk in nature and enjoy the stillness, the peace and the fresh air was relaxing. But

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The sea and the sky

The sea and the sky

Each scale on the fishtail of humanity glistens in the light and withers in the dark. The sea is cold tonight. The surface blurred, several stars above. Rushing saltwater, like shards of ice in the eyes. We breathe, whichever way we know how. Oxygenating the blood. Freezing the lungs. Folding the heart. The trenches and bunkers are deep and dark. But the sky is young in her flight.

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