When was the last time you had a good, deep, foot, neck, shoulder, or back massage? If you closed your eyes and surrendered to the process, what feelings came up for you? Were you able to name those feelings – relief, grief, foreboding, panic, bliss, vulnerability? Or did you notice tears flowing but find yourself
I have just emailed Issue 200 of our monthly Dream Sight News out to our subscribers, and shared the article I wrote for our first issue, back on 11.11.1998. The story is old, but still true. I guess it’s the story behind my dream sight, my in-sight. I called the article I-Sight, and thought I’d
Finish this statement using just one word: “The world is …” Maybe your word was big, or round, or polluted, or over-crowded, or dying, or abundant, or hopeful, or breathing, or alive, or beautiful, or exciting, or changing. You would probably choose a different word on a different day, or at a different hour, depending
The moment has come to step out on stage and perform in front of an audience but you haven’t prepared. Worse than this, you know zilch. It’s a common dream theme, and you’ve probably had a variation of it at some point in your life. What did you make of it? How did you relate
This little cupboard has moved from house to house within our family for years, and we have always forgiven it for its one fault, doors that open whenever you walk past. The bolt that is designed to keep the doors closed is too short for the task, losing its grip and slipping out at the
So here we are, we of the western world, about to step into another new year. Let’s go back, oh, about 2,500 years. Let’s go back as far as Heraclitus 535-475 BC, the Greek philosopher whose “No man ever steps in the same river twice” so enchantingly encourages us to acknowledge and flow with change.
A fairy floated by, not a real fairy, but a fluffy seed like the dandelion seeds we called fairies when I was a child. Only it didn’t really float, it lingered right in front of my eyes then danced a little before flying away, leaving this mini blog in its wake. I was sitting in
When I was about six or seven, an aunt gave me an autograph book for my birthday. I can still picture it (Post script, June 2015: while moving house I found it, that’s it in the header image!), a padded matt white vinyl cover with an illustration of a modish 1960s lady, pen poised in
“I’ll show you the back garden,” said Marion, leading me through her laundry, past her noisy rumbling tumbling washing machine, to the side door. This was several years ago, and I was going to keep a neighbourly eye on her roses while she was away for a week. I followed Marion down the side path
Even mountains flow. What does this mean to you? How do mountains flow in the physical world? Count the ways before reading on. We might think of mountains as solid, reliably static defining features of our landscape. We might chip away at them, quarrying rock, building roads, blasting tunnels, but still think of the mountain itself as