What is this fabled state of being he wondered. After many years of contemplation, he thought perhaps he might know.
Would Mesmerism prove any more effective than any of the other thus far useless approaches which promised salvation?
A descent into silence and meditation. A search for the soul.
Some weeks after their adventures with the Book of Ways, Polly and Eustace sat enjoying a breakfast of boiled eggs and generously buttered toast in their little sitting room…
Why is there something rather than nothing, he mused. Does life have any purpose.
Rumination, or call it reflection perhaps. Free of the destructive connotations of the former, the latter seems more wholesome. A liberating appraisal of a life lived less well than it could have been.
Will you listen, perchance, to a holy man or prophet. Does philosopher or mage have the answers you seek, a fool even.
Does it work?
Gene Kelly may have danced; I just sat but with equal pleasure no doubt.
My mind drifted this morning, far from the algorithm I was working on. Was I old I wondered or had I simply changed.
I felt it as soon as I sat down, the presence. Or was it a smell, a feeling a sound of silence.
Lost is often a good thing. Thought may not be so good.
Slowness is a vital ingredient, in my case at least, in encouraging me along the path I wish to follow.
Silence is not the absence of sound but the absence of noise. Noise is not simply the presence of undesired sound.
Enjoying the cool spring sunshine this morning, I had a moment of truth as my eye was caught by dew drops in the long grass. I was sitting in our beautiful patch of wild meadow at the bottom of the garden.
Breaking up my routine seems to add enormously to my well-being. While I might not persuade my wife to let me go trekking in the Empty Quarter, even mild change can be very beneficial.
I had a curious sensation of fading, being absorbed into the background, while walking along a country lane in glorious winter sunshine.
Very occasionally one gets a glimpse of peace and today was one of those all too rare days.
If you are going to go to church, go alone and go when it is empty.
The modern trope would have it that you are what you eat, but the metaphor needs taking further.
I will never be able to resolve my unshakable disbelief in Christian dogma with the profound peace I find singing sacred classical music in an ancient English church with a good choir.
Happiness is only attainable once you recognize that everything just “is”.
What exquisite bitter-sweetness, an English autumn in the countryside.
I had a delightful morning over a cup of coffee with some acquaintances I had been meaning to get to know better.
…how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin…
The back of beyond is where I want to be. And I am back, at the back of beyond. I have come in a full circle.
It is time to “feel” the universe for myself. To cease to see it through the words of others and to experience it directly.
Is it a detrimental term or may it have hidden meanings and use?
For some years I have assumed that far from inheriting the earth, the meek will be trampled underfoot. I am beginning to wonder whether I am mistaken.
Meditation is not or need not be any sort of religious devotion. But it must become a way of life if it is to be any help to you.