Paul John Dear Photography
A new series inspired by the many trees I have photographed over the years. Here I am combining some of those photos with Tanka poetry. Each poem is composed for a particular photograph and is an 'imagined' poetic verse from the tree itself, speaking directly to the times we are living in right now. Paul … Continue reading Tree Tanka Series:when trees speak in poems
A wonderful piece of heartfelt writing from the most courageous young person.
Wiston Lodge renewed my confidence in my ability to feel love.
Since being drugged in February 2021 and suffering persistent effects from this, I’ve struggled with feelings of bitterness, spite, envy, and emptiness. I’ve felt alienated from other people and horrified by the blunting of my previously strong empathy. I can definitely still cry, but weeping comes less easily than it did, as do smiling and laughing. “You never smile anymore!” my dad chided me recently.
I was smiling and laughing at Wiston.
The drum circle facilitation training offered at Wiston Lodge, near Biggar, was invented and pioneered by an eccentric American percussionist named Arthur Hull, who has been deemed important enough to have his own Wikipedia page. He only makes an appearance at Wiston every other year, however. With or without Arthur, the Lodge has the uncanny ability to attract people who are not only eclectically and profoundly talented…
View original post 771 more words
Slowly and with time to breathe grow into your own undoing and let the weight of your lived being be the lightness beneath your steps Put down the clocks and the keeping of time and let what is around you just come marking the moment with a curiosity born in your days of childish imagination … Continue reading undone
Everything you hold dearyou will loseincluding You Then, when you know that you are losta freedom beckons from that'how it is supposed to be' Like a cork on the oceanyou bob where the flow takes youand you are not in control ofhow the ocean carries youhowever much you wish you were Be squashed by this … Continue reading Self improvement
mass extinction times abound species gone and going still throw another lump of carbon on the pyre How to speak for the dead when we never even noticed their living? or our own for that matter How to listen to those we chose not to see? How to live fully when we do not know … Continue reading losst
Rents are rising in a steep curve of 'make money while the planet dies' here in Glasgow capitalism dances on the future graves of those protesters who care enough still to rail at those who have until now showed no sign of caring at all in whose feathered nests no fucks are given for now … Continue reading Last penny for the ferryman
.......since I wrote a poem. I have been scribbling away in the background but have given more time these last years to collecting thoughts, feelings and observations in a journal. Reflections on life, on love and on loss. Perhaps some if it will find its way here. This morning I felt compelled to pen a … Continue reading It has been a while……
life's losses are woven together like seeds on a thread of grief that circles your heart each one a compassionate friend whose soft lament whispers a song of soul to remind you that your growing pains birthed a beautiful wisdom tree that stands rooted in the fertiliser of your wondrous life
when life conspires to throw you into the liminal space occupying that window bounded by the no longer and the not yet your senses switch to full alert sight sharpens sound permeates all vibrational frequencies play in the spaces in between you smell blossoms from centuries ago and different continents to the one your feet … Continue reading The Weaver