Presence Resonance Coherence

I wrote this as part of my post-paper for a Wisdom University course on Living in Mastery in 2012 – and just found it again as I review all my papers for my PhD dissertation. Not sure what I think of it but was told to not make that choice for others – so here it is :-).


There is not much

One can say about


As really it is


Of anything.


from Old English meaning “rest”.


Not doing.



Not moving.

Noticing movement.

Feeling stillness.

Eye at the center.

I at the center.

The center at I.

I as the center.

The center as I.

I as that.

That as I.

I thou it we you its.



At rest.


With it all.



Something stirs.

Pre-sensing resonance.



In the stillness

Something stirs.

Or is stirred.

Still again.

Still. Stir. Still. Stir.

Stir Stir. Still.

Stir Stir Stir. Still.

What’s that stirring?

Attention drawn.

Curiosity awakened.

Something is stirring.

The first awake seems to stir others.

New others.

And old others.

New constellation though.

What’s stirring?

It’s disturbing.

My stillness.

It’s growing.

Something is forming.




Still is safe.

I know still.

Staying still

I watch the strange stirring.

The connections

Start to draw me in.

I feel excitement.

Something is growing in me.

As me.

It’s me growing!

An explosion of stirring

Like the crazed whisking of a spoon in a teacup

Sloshes tea all over the place

Yet is held together by the stirring

At the center.

Then I see.

The harder is stirred,

The emptier the spiral at the center

The fuller the tea all around.

Presence holds resonance

As a new form is born.

Bring on the tea!



As I see

Myself in the strange

My whole being

Sings a new tune.

From teaspoon

To dervish dancer

Whipping the world into its orbit.

I look up.

Things look different.

They look strange

And I recognise

The strangeness.

It fits.

We fit.

New me, new world.

We move.

We dance.

We sing.

We play.

And stillness fills the movement.

And movement fills the stillness.

As one.


And my mind asks:

But what changed?

I see the same world

But feel it is different.

It responds differently.

I act differently.

But physically it’s all the same.

My life is different.

Or so it feels.

What is that out there

If it so malleable

By this in here?

How can I impact that

When there is so much of it?

What’s the difference

Between my experience of reality

And reality itself?

Is there a difference?

What if someone else

Changes their experience of reality

Does that change mine?

And if it’s all moving together,

Then who’s doing the moving?

That’s a conversation killer.

Mind stops.


In presence

I feel the resonance

And am the coherence

And that’s all I know

For now.

From Source to Sea

From Source to Sea

From source to sea

The river has many faces.

Chuckling lightly as fast flowing

Over rocks it glistens in the sun

Perpetual motion, sliding, gliding,

Smiling. A constant ray of hope.

Over the edge it tumbles in turmoil,

A wild swirling dance,

Free from the rocks, the river bed,

Plunging in silence through space.

Roaring with laughter, it crashes below,

Shattering into a myriad of twinkling drops,

Rainbow glints in the spray

Permanent creation and recreation.

Drifting into deep dark pools,

The drops collect in reflections of the past,

Mirrors of the distant sky

Serenity, peace …

From source to sea

The river has many faces

But they are one.



Can anyone hear me?

Is anyone near me?

Or am I just a muffle

in your old blue duffle?


Step into fresh air.

We’ve got something to share.

There are things we can do.

Yes, you too.


We’ll go for a beer,

if you’ll lend me your ear.

Or just for a walk.

Somewhere we can talk.


Why does nobody see

they’re like you and me?

Just here for a while

and made such a trial.


We’ve invented a code,

yet it seems out of mode

to use these few words,

to chat like the birds.


Have you something to hide

that you’ve buried inside?

Afraid to let go

for fear I should know?


We’re all from the same place.

We’re all from the same race.

A mere strand in the web,

a drop in the ebb.


Let’s admit we were wrong

to believe we were strong.

Then we’ll feel free

to talk, you and me.

Us and Them

Us and Them


As dolphins dance, birds sing,

Waters whisper and flowers bloom,

What do they care about us,

Ephemeral mortals?


As our men fight, lovers argue,

Rage rises and tears flow,

What do they think about us,

Bickering wastrels?


Wind’s caress, oak’s creak,

Salmon’s leap, rainbow’s end.

What can we know about them,

Natural spirits?