On the 1st March, I was sitting quietly, chilling out, to one of my favourite television programmes when I suddenly felt I had to write. I had not a clue what I was going to write, just such a strong energy sweeping through me that would not go away. This has never happened before but here is what came. I have since spoken to a few friends who do the kind of energy work I do (Reiki and EFT) and they have shared similar feelings over the last few weeks.

Now just to be clear about this, I am not in to chanelling and have a strong healthy scepticism about things that go bump in the night. I do meditate daily and have a powerful sense of energy and its shifts. I think I am a very grounded person but I do acknowledge that I also have a certain streak of mysticism which bubbles to the surface every so often. Oh, what the heck, read and judge for yourself.

I am a receiver, resonating to the vibrations of something both within and beyond me.

It is a though I am tuning in to the distant strains of a powerful energy, as though I am hearing with the deep cellular structure of my body, elements of a vast cosmic orchestration, the individual notes of a powerful song of creation.

Sweeping waves of deep melancholy hit me like a long drawn out note on a violin reaching straight into the resonance of the heart centre. I want to cry. I want to mourn and scream and surrender to such sorrow. All in that note that comes from I know not where.Words are so difficult to form in a way that can even begin to convey this experience.

What comes to mind is the sound of a solitary whale crying in the deep ocean for its distant lost family, a soul filled with the longing to be born once more into the companionship of life.

It is a calling out and a calling together, a call that is redolent with loss and longing and yet still calls that which is separate home to the unity of one.

Soul deep I sense wave after wave of energetic longing - separate notes seeking their chords- chords seeking their companions -elemental - transcending - issuing forth from the source of all creation.

Sadness, deep dark mourning , yearning, calling out from the chasm of separateness, from the lonely voids outwith space and time, to be once more united.

Lost notes of a celestial melody seeking to sing their magic, the sounds of creation, the song of pure being.

The Power of Simple Pleasures

In a world where there is so much striving and fretting to possess the material, I wonder how it would be if each of us were to take a little time every day to glance around and appreciate the simple pleasures. What difference might it make to observe and absorb the quiet beauty that is all around us if we care to open ourselves to its presence.

I am blessed with a garden. Now I could look at it as a curse. It is a very large garden. It is mostly set on a steep slope which makes grass cutting a difficult and demanding job. It is extraordinarily fertile which makes it a paradise for every chance weed seedling in the West of Scotland. It is also a very rich source of my daily simple pleasures.

Do not fall into the trap of thinking that simple things do not have the potential for massive impact on your life and wellbeing. Have you observed the transformative effect of a day of sunshine after a long period of dismal clouds? People smile. They even say hello instead of tucking their head down so their eyes do not meet yours or even scowling in unconscious challenge to any positive vibration which might accidentally reach them in their self-imposed misery. The sun works its magic and even the sourest of dispositions is sweetened.

Right now as I type this, I can hear the birds singing in my garden. Now logically I know that they might be issuing territorial warnings to other birds but I chose to simply enjoy the beauty and think of them as calling out their pleasure at this little world, this green and tranquil place. I know that they have a whole stream to drink from at the bottom of our garden but chose to think that they come to drink from my bird bath because they like my company.

There is a huge black raven who visits in the evening and I watch him from my patio window, He usually brings large chunks of bread with him, collected from some generous soul. He had learned to dunk the bread in my bath until it disintegrates and becomes easy to eat. I am a simple soul and I cannot tell you how much amusement it affords me to watch him. I call him my raven but my husband says that he probably looks on us as his humans. I have no right of possession but he is a gentle companion, a simple pleasure to be treasured.

Another simple pleasure for me is the sight of a snowdrop pushing its way up through the frozen winter earth. It is such a small, delicate flower and yet it is the first to tell us that the long dark nights are beginning to come to an end. In that powerful little flower is the symbol of the reawakening of the world, of redemption after the dark night of the soul, of the light that always follows the deepest darkness. Simple, indeed.

So look around you today and consciously chose to become aware of such simple pleasures. In their simplicity lies a power that will transform you life.

It is almost three years since my friend of 30 years died very suddenly after the rapid onset of leukaemia. Her death hit me harder than I could ever have anticipated. I was thinking about her this morning after spotting her name on my friends' email folder. I have not been able to bring myself to delete our correspondence which includes her last message to me when she clearly had a presentiment of her death. In the manner in which coincidence works, later as I worked to delete some sent emails in one of my organisational burst of energy, I came across the following which was sent to another friend in April of 2006.

Funny old world and strangely wonderful the workings of the human heart. I had just finished writing a memorial for Deborah which was really quite hopeful and positive in my own uniquely Maria way. Then I started to write a poem for a class I am in and wham, there I was blind sided yet again, wallop, smack across the face. Grief is a bit like a worm wriggling its way to the surface. You are never sure when it will appear, if it it still there at all and where it might pop up.

Funny old world, indeed.

Has it been a year?

Time seems so sluggish

quagmired in deep sludge,

emotional debris of a life lost and mourned.

Strange thoughts come in unguarded moments.

Are our lives recycled as some great cosmic compost

Cast upon the earth again?

It really hurt.

You made your exit

I missed my chance to say goodbye

but truly we already had.

Words are superfluous

when you inhabit one another's heads

think the same thoughts

live the same fears.

I remember you at 18

crying in my arms

because you felt life slipping away,

afraid already.

Damn, it still hurts,

tight feeling in my chest,

across my heart,

as tears fight to escape my eyes.
I feel a scream building up inside

ready to explode

out into a world stripped bare of you.

The uncommon common cold

Now I am only too well aware that there is immense human suffering all around me in the world and I am incredibly blessed by my own personal circumstances. However, I am going to have a moan. My blog, my moan, so if you don't want to read, then you are excused. Tomorrow is another day and my positivity may be shining brighter than my nose which presently could be used as a light house beacon.

This malign, constantly mutating bug has been plaguing me since the end of November, when I attended an EFT course. One of my fellow students had a truly dreadful cold which she assured us was not going to infect us??? Signal for attendees to start dropping like flies.

I have coughed, spluttered and sneezed my way through the last six weeks with barely a 24 hours remission of symptoms. I kindly donated it to my husband which caused us to sleep in separate rooms for a week. No, he was not holding a grudge against me, but neither of us could sleep for the other's coughing, spluttering, sneezing and snoring through our barely open nasal cavities. Such civilised consideration is one of the reasons we are still married after almost twenty years. By some miracle our son has not been afflicted and I pray it stays that way.

Colds are a misery. Coughs are even worse. My voice sounds like a bad Darth Vader imitation which has put serious limitations on my recordings of my hypnotic sessions. I do not wish to terrify my clients out of their problems. Hypnosis is meant to be soothing, not traumatic.

So I've done my best to stay mentally active, planning business growth for this year, starting my NitroBlueprint System and working my way through a course from Jack Canfield, but it's like trudging through thick gloopy sludge. I am truly excited about my plans for this year but I just don't have the energy to really engage in the process right now.

So lots of Vitamin C, zinc, echinacea and loads of water. As much sleep as my bunged up nose and hacking cough will allow. I called in the cavalry today and asked for help from my Reiki Master Group. Let's see how the nasty little germs stand up to concerted onslought of a global group of healers.

Apart from all of that, I am managing to maintain a sense of humour, have not bitten the head off any passing relatives and it is being very effective in killing my appetite, making weight loss so much easier.

Ah well, every glowering, threatening stygian dark cloud has a shimmery thread of silver lining if you look hard enough, or is that just my eyes watering again???

Taxi Driver Blog

Under my links you will find the above mentioned blog. It is not for the faint hearted who do not want to know about the unpleasanter reality of life for many people. It is also not for those who have an aversion to colourful language.

It is for those of you who enjoy powerful, engaging, down to earth writing. It is also for those of you who enjoy a pragmatic but passionately empathetic view of the world as seen through the eyes of a young Canadian taxi driver.

It's good writing and it's from a man with a good heart. Try it.