A Pox on All Spammers

Image: James_Jester, Pixabay

It appears one of my posts has been favoured by a select group of spammers. They’ ve been lavishing fragrant words of flattery and guile on it for months. Elusive is the post in question, and Elusive it’s going to be as I’ve deleted it now.

I’m sure His Nibs will be amused at the turn of events. One lot of spammers appear to indulge in nonsensical prose and the others, they’re linked to various porn sites. Quelle horreur! My delicate nature was terribly shocked, I had to resort to tea and cake to calm down. Perhaps I’m being naive, an innocent journeying through unsafe waters filled with all manner of sea monsters. To be honest I’ve been quite lucky with responses to my posts. So what am I complaining for?

This issue is irritating, like a banal pop tune stuck in your mind. Or a runny nose and unproductive cough. His Nibs is shaking his head in despair, it appears I’m enjoying complaining.  How rude! What is the world coming to when you can’t even moan in your own Shed. He gives me a look that speaks volumes in several known and unknown languages. Wrong move on my part…

I’ve not had much time to concentrate on developing the blog due to longstanding commitments. My recent wanderings have given me sore feet and precipitated a certain ennui deep within the spirit. Perhaps it’s due to the separation from familiar friends, Anubis, and the troublesome Hare (yes, I’m talking about you, you tea drinking fiend). Perhaps it’s due to being caught in a rut, of going over familiar ground over and over again. So much so that I’m stuck in mud up to my ankles.

The inner creative landscape has shifted profoundly, ebbing and flowing. At times emerging scorched from the rays of an ever-growing sun. One evolving into a giant, ready to go supernova. Then the greening of this landscape began at the close of last year. I finally managed to clean the dust off many projects, vowing to get back on my spiritual quests. Too many distractions caused me to lose focus. Have they taught me anything? Much. The Hero engaged upon the greatest quest of their life often suffers doubt, lack of faith and despair. Their inner resolve is prey to dangers lurking on the path, which can seem terribly lonely and lacking light in many ways.

What does this have to do with my spammers? Not much, except to release the words that have been dammed for so long. My musings had become a mystery to even to me.

His Nibs smiles beguilingly, we have an important appointment approaching. So you’ll have to excuse me. The Shed is due for redecoration and I have to contemplate my navel and ponder on the meaning of Lif. Or fight dragons, but as I like dragons this isn’t going to happen any time soon.


Submission Guidelines for Authors and Regular Contributors — Open Thought Vortex

Open Thought Vortex Magazine wants your work for publication on this site. All submissions will be selected personally by Shareen and Kara Post-Kennedy, the Open Thought Vortex Editor-in-Chief. Expect unusual interactions with your OTV hosts. If your work is of interest, you are of interest. Our correspondence won’t be polished, run-of-the-mill, or even to the point. It might be […]

via Submission Guidelines for Authors and Regular Contributors — Open Thought Vortex

Be my guest…an invitation — Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo

It’s five o’clock, the page looks bare… There’s not a guest post anywhere… Though I invite and beg and plead There’s only my words here to read. So, authors with a brand new book, If you’d like folks to take a look, Why not drop in and write for me A promo post that folks […]

via Be my guest…an invitation — Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo

Hidden Blessings – By Cynthia Morgan

I wanted to share this post to spread more of Cynthia’s generosity, she was kind enough to let me guest on her blog. It helped a newbie blogger to gain an insight into the mysterious art of blogging, and get my ‘niche’ writing out there.

I recently hosted an event where other writers had the opportunity to ask me questions about the journey from hobbyist writing to becoming an Indie Author; Published by a well-respected company, and/or landing Freelance writing opportunities; learning to navigate Social Media, networking with fellow writers, and creating a social presence or brand and more. […]

via Hidden Blessings – — Booknvolume

Kindred Spirits

Image: Pixabay

It’s been a while since I last wrote about Amunet, formerly known as the Alchemist’s daughter. She’s an Alchemist in her own right now. Her departure was made at the end of Inconsolable: Flight of the Father having participated in the transfiguration of her father. Her guide and friend Roshanak also bore witness to this very important ritual. Some may view it as death, but what’s death but a transition from one state of being to another? Many spiritual traditions tell of individuals who can control the manner and process of their own deaths. Such was the case with the Alchemist and will be with his daughter. I watch developments in this area with interest as Amunet holds a special place in my affections. She asks pertinent questions about what it means to be human. Ones that I can’t either ask or answer.

The characters we write about aren’t just creations of our imaginations; we invest aspects of ourselves in their shaping and eventual life on the page (physical and digital). Stating the obvious I know. You could say we’re engaging in a magical act, the end result of our efforts being an outflowing of creativity. Amunet has helped me explore many questions about the inner and outer Universes. Many of them manifesting in posts on this blog, admittedly they may come across as being a little incomprehensible! Apologies for that, I tend to forget that there’s an audience out “there”. At times it feels like my characters and I are engaged in intimate conversation over tea or coffee.


Image: Pixabay

What’s Amunet been doing since our last encounter? Travelling for a while, collecting memories, keepsakes and knowledge, and I’m eager to learn more. We catch up with her in a remote monastery somewhere in India, near the Tibetan border. She’s sitting with a fellow pilgrim, both having undertaken a journey of several weeks to get there. Their conversation is muted and filled with silences.

The Outer Dialogue


That’s the last I saw of Roshanak. Her path lay elsewhere, which is a shame as we grew quite fond of each other. Gatekeepers don’t always remain with you once their task is over, I was lucky she stayed so long.


Gatekeepers? I’d heard of them but thought they were a myth.


They are now, but when we remember what we were once, they appear.


Talking in riddles again! (Laughs).


(Stares intently) Not sure you’re ready to hear more. Let me think about this. Ask me tomorrow, I might tell you then.


Of course, I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight Amunet.

Amunet watches the man leave, he looks deflated. Only natural, as their conversations are stimulating and highly enjoyable. Although impatience is a problem. Was he ready to hear more? How arrogant that sounds!


You don’t give much away do you?


Discernment and discretion are a necessary fact of my life. He’s trustworthy but not yet prepared for the knowledge I carry. Human nature can be profoundly perplexing and infuriating, that much I will acknowledge. How do you cope with the tumult carried within your psyche? It feels alien and unsettling.


We don’t always succeed but it can be managed. How can I put this? Being human can at times be a like a ringmaster in a very peculiar circus, with ourselves being audience and circus troupe.


Interesting imagery! What I want and need to know is the reality experienced by you.


You don’t make things easy do you? Not sure how to answer that. You ask a difficult thing Amunet, for me to bare my soul when I’m not ready to. What can I tell you? I search for meaning in an unknowable and vast Universe, at times not knowing where I’ve come from and where I’ll end up. My mortality is a source of occasional annoyance because there is so much to do and see. I’m wary of showing my vulnerability, perhaps fearing being hurt. These are the artefacts of my human self, buried in deep soil, waiting to see the light of day. I struggle with the frailty of the human body and projections of the personality, both mine and of others. Human nature makes me despair with its ugliness but feel elated when it reveals a deeply compassionate and divine face.

Without this body I would have no understanding and experience of the world around me. It gives me the opportunity to love and be loved, to hold, to feel and sense. I’ve been gifted with free will but don’t always exercise it. I’m in control of my destiny and world to a great extent, but my dysfunctional ego makes it a hell of a job to do the job properly. Fear is the tyrant we should all be on our guard against. You’re crying. Huh, never thought I’d see that.


They taste, salty, like seawater. Consisting of Elemental Water and Earth. Intriguing. I was created within the heart of the Sun, born of Fire, symbolising transformation and regeneration. My existence has been eternal and unceasing. I KNOW what it is to be immortal, it can’t be expressed in language you would understand. This Universe is but a partial reflection of the true glory of existence. You and I have need of the experience of the other to form the whole reflection. Time is meaningless.


“Time is meaningless”. I wish it was!


Trust me, it will unfold as it’s meant to. We are kindred spirits.

The setting Sun pours its fire through the windows of the little room and bathes the lone figure now sitting in deep meditation.


Image: Pixabay

Sage advice and Insights from Trablogger.

They say, as one gets old, one becomes wiser. I think it is true in the blogging world also. I am getting old! I turned Three, here in this blogosphere. On this 1st September 2017, I am completing 3 years of blogging. At this point, I am pausing for a moment to look back and……

via 10 Things Blogging Has Taught Me In Three Years — Trablogger


Image: Pixabay

The Oxford English Dictionary gives several definitions of Illuminate:

“Light up something”

“Help to clarify or explain something”

“Decorate a page or initial letter in a manuscript with gold, silver, or coloured designs”

The origin of the word is from the Latin Illuminare (Illuminate), from Lumen (Light).

I think all of the above are relevant for the purposes of this post, after all this blog consists of “musings of a wandering mystic” as I like to call myself, in addition to being a “non-poet” of course!

I’m aware that some of my posts may appear a little incomprehensible in their subject matter. Apologies for that. They take their place on the (virtual) page when my inner world deems that a little enlightenment is due. More for my benefit than anyone else’s. Perhaps I’m hoping to “light up” the shadowed places my feet take me on this life journey. There are many challenges being faced in the inner and outer worlds, some harder than others to overcome. It isn’t as bleak as it sounds. These things occur in cycles, differing in energies, much like those of the natural world and the greater Cosmos.

Our burdens can at times feel like those of the Titan Prometheus, although perhaps not to such an extreme extent. Prometheus sacrificed himself essentially to bring divine fire to humanity to help them survive and lighten the darkness of their existence (in more ways than one). Zeus punished the Titan by having him chained to a rock and an eagle eat his liver, which regenerated daily. The gods were rather imaginative and cruel in their choice of punishment dear readers.

Darkness gives us a time to recollect, rest and regenerate ourselves. On the negative side we have a tendency to view it as a home for all the terrible things of our nightmares. What did early humans do in the absence of fire? What did they fear lurking in the darkness of their environment? It’s not a mystery why the coming of light, sunrise, was celebrated so joyfully by all cultures. Although the idea of perpetual darkness and light is not a comforting one. Balance in all things is what we should aspire to, if only for sanity’s sake.

What of this mysterious thing “Iluminare”? Have I been successful in lighting up the hidden places in life and within myself? Have there been moments when I’ve shouted eureka and the scales have fallen from my (inner) sight? Yes and yes. Also No and no. My feet have walked from the shadowed places at the sight of light emerging in the distance and it has been a wonderful sight! At other times the torch lighting my way through the darkness has gone out and a sense of heaviness has descended. It can be described as a sense of desolation. The infamous “Dark Night of the Soul” then envelops us, revisiting our lives many, many times. That’s not to say we’re on our own at such times, we’re never alone. I recall one occasion years ago when I’d reached a very low point in life, my spirit felt utterly crushed. I asked, no one in particular why this was happening to me. No audible answer was forthcoming, except for a gentle and compassionate touch on my shoulder. There wasn’t anyone there, not visible to my sight anyway. I was quite upset at the time and brushed it away.  A strange incident but whoever you were, thank you from the depths of my heart.


Image: Pixabay

Moments like this are when we add further embellishments in a page in the Book of Life, our life. They act as gifts from our Higher Selves or Guardian Angels, bringing beauty and light for us to use. We use them to illuminate our lives to best reflect the wonder and splendour of both sorrow and joy. The contents of our Book of Life can be read on so many levels, nothing is what it first appears to be. Words become unnecessary at the moment light strikes at the very heart of our being.

Filaments of Light

Image: Pixabay

Serenity ushers in thoughts of sun soaked dreams and filaments of light. The Night passes into Day, Introspection into Action.

Their nightly vigils fade, embraced by song and homage. Thoughts deconstruct and Speech Assembles.

Warrior monks rise, forsaking doubt and tribute. They look into Void, seeking answers, finding only paradox.

Priest and Knight seek silence, so solitude beckons. Communion embraces spirit. Wisdom releases, humility receives, illumination encapsulates. Duty capitulates.

Filaments of light cascade, breath captures in awe. Silence profound unveils, mysteries quicken. From Introspection comes forth Action.

Here end these perplexing words from this non-poet as I style myself. All has not been well in my world lately. The past few weeks have been filled with mishaps, people misreading my communications, me misreading my communications. Plans have been scuppered and in hindsight probably a good thing. Much the same has been happening to many people around me, some experiences being worse than others.

Additionally, my brain is stubbornly refusing to behave. Like a recalcitrant teenager it moans about being asked to do things, “I hate you!” it’ll mutter in a surly manner. What do you do but send it to its room to cool down. Give me strength! Now for some ‘Me’ time.

I take a seat in the Shed and look at my little creation.  What am I trying to say? Sorry for being indelicate but I’ve been suffering a little mental constipation lately. There, said it. The build up of psychic and physical toxicity in the system creates strange back-eddies, leaving you feeling uncomfortable and tired. Accordingly the words are backed up, desperate for release. How to best express the inner agonies and sense of unrest? Where else could I go back seek advice of the mysterious band of priestly knights I call brethren. I am of course being deliberately coy, leaving crumbs, perhaps hoping you’d follow. I usually have a picture in my mind of what’s waiting to be written and these priestly knights were waiting in infinite patience. It has been a long time since we last met up. I’ve been avoiding the silence, perhaps for fear of what’s waiting in there. They speak and I’m trying to digest what’s been brought to the table.

My thoughts are interrupted by loud music emanating from the teen’s room. Sigh, the little attention seeker needs to be taught a lesson. I unplug the music system. Peace. Time for a long chat with her upstairs.


Work in Progress: How Am I Doing?

womens-march-2001566_1920[287] - Copy

Image: Pixabay

This blog has reached over 200 posts now, 205 including this to be precise. WordPress helpfully messages you to advise of such milestones(!). What an achievement considering I had doubts regarding its longevity. The decision to start blogging was a risk. What if my efforts turned out to be an embarrassment and NO ONE read the posts? Initial offerings were safe and inoffensive, due to a lack of confidence and identifiable voice.

Valuable advice from another blogger helped to focus my mind and I soon rewrote the About page and plan of action. Having perused the wealth and quality of writing in the blogsphere my heart sank a little in the early days. Apparently these sorcerers of the ether were privy to magical secrets. Something to mull over whilst I delved into my bag of magical ingredients. WordPress offered support to the newbie blogger but the plethora of information on hand scrambled my brains a little. Was it going to be easier to free jump into the blogsphere? I’d taken risks before, not all of them worked but life is one big rusk, risk I mean. Although the similarities are somewhat spooky. Continue reading

Master of Ceremonies


Image: Pixabay

I came across this suave gentleman whilst looking for an image for another blog. He intrigued me and I wanted to know more of his story. Who, what and where, raced through my mind. At one point I thought he looked a little like the late Argentinian jazz saxophonist Gato Barbieri. Hm, maybe not. Perhaps I want this man to have a history filled with all manner of adventure, loss, love and creativity. Magic even.

Writers have spun concoctions from the meerest scrap of an idea, why shouldn’t I from an image found out of thousands? People interest me, I love observing them, at rest, work and play. Human nature repels me (and many others) when it manifests in ugly hatred,  malice and selfishness. On the other hand, It enriches my spirit when the true beauty and poetry of the soul shine through. I digress. What of my mysterious stranger? I named him the Master of Ceremonies for a good reason, which will be explained later. His demeanour and roguish good looks hint at, a life infused with spiciness and whiskey flavoured jazz melodies. A little overstated? I can’t help myself.

Continue reading