a paint palette with dry oil paint from the art studio of uk artist phoebe thomasson

Infinite Kindness/The Explorer of Worlds

What are we?
a miracle of complexity
what other creature
can see beyond itself
into the stars?

Illuminating universes
for one another
we crave to help
so we may ALL live in peace.

Get over it
you angry ones
illusion in which
you are caught
blinds you
to the existence
of brothers and sisters
from outside of your time.

They talk of us
as distant strangers
how we do strange
and unusual things

We are but as myths
and we must continue
to penetrate their worlds
with infinite kindness.

(I saw Sue Perkins bowing with such reverence to the group of women from the Singapore jungle)

The quicker you go
the less you will know.

Slowly and with care
let us strive for excellence.

link to the art shop and gallery of phoebe thomasson artist

Seamless: A Revealing Journey…A Poem

photo credit CLUC

I just awoke from a dream….not seconds.ago…and this was the journey that I saw…

Like travellers we strode
Cross valley
And mountain ridge
Like gritty royal characters
The peasants we did pass
We looked up from our toil
To see the royal throng
We stopped with wonder
As we saw ourselves go by

We were transvestites on the beach
Hollering with love and confusion
Dressed in our cross referenced illusion
We looked up to see the punks
Running towards us through the sand
We were charging skins red raw from battle
Worn with tattooed sides and red blood
Running in veins so wild
As we flew towards our quarry
Till we saw the whites of their eyes
And stopped….amazed at seeing

We were landed gentry
Enjoying feasting off the fat of the land
I took her hand
Silken gown flowing down
Not far removed from the royalty
Of yesteryear
You were my servant when I spied you near
I looked up to see my lord’s eyes
Over serving caviare and scones did I then
Come to realize
There was something of me
Behind those wine soaked eyes

I was buccaneer in my office with my phone
Leather case now replace breeches
But my pirate nature with me
Has eternally flown
I steal your money
You’re women your rent
I saw in my whore something new
A her blouse I tore asunder
I saw the thunder in his heart
As wantonly I took my legs
Apart at the seams you took me there
There was something in that
Piratical stare
I almost choked on my red soaked
Lips when I saw my child
My former bliss
In your eyes I am your mother
Your sister
Your lover

We all came round the corner
Up the street to where Goliath’s meet and he was gin-soaked
Riding a horse of Gothic
He was waiting
But not waiting
The witch and the warden
the characters all came to him and he nodded
Off to the egg with his weighty smile
Revealed from the door
Those eyes once more…

Sat in the space pod
Was myself; it was me from the outside!
He smiled
The circle complete
Ourselves we did meet…

Though my poetry’s bad
Such a night we all had.


This poem is alluding directly to Andy Weir’s short story called ‘The Egg’

Photo Credit CLUC

The Yoga of Art…The Art of Yoga

Different strokes, same destination…

If you think about it, making squiggles on the canvas is not that different from throwing shapes on the Yoga mat. Not really. Here’s how I arrived at that conclusion.

Firstly, the processes involve some very similar elements. Confronting the unknown, and overcoming fear based resistance is one such psychological similarity. As we approach our stations we are prepared for something to happen, but can never predict exactly what will occur. The brush strokes, and the moves we make are dependent on so many factors including the time of day, temperature, weather, and without a doubt our own mood and physical condition. The result, each time is a unique experience, never to be repeated. This is from where we can draw inspiration to continue. It feels good to have simply got over the hurdle of ‘beginning’.

Next are the deeper states which we may reach if we practice long and hard enough. There are many cultural parallels between the crazy yogi and the mad artist. Who hasn’t seen the madcap Indian Yogis with their shrivelled arms in the air, emaciated limbs and huge reefers blazing as they hang upside down in the lotus whilst squeezing their genitalia into pretzel shapes? So what about the artist, locked away in his attic, chasing his muse, then shagging her, drinking green stuff and cutting of appendages? Hmm? Looking familiar now isn’t it?

There is madness on the path to the Divine…

Turning up at the canvas is a form of Yoga; at least, in a classical sense that is exactly what it is (see The Eight Limbs). Yoga is simply a term to denote the ultimate potential of the practice you are undertaking. The term yoga signifies that you are about to ‘yoke’ your ‘everyday self’ to your divine self, your higher being or indeed, your creative muse. We are actively tuning in for divine inspiration, for the subtle language that flows through us as we move, informing us as to what we are as we stretch for the stars, flow from the brush and diligently follow the sensuous whispers, bringing us closer to our deepest feeling of freedom and aliveness.

Our practice is to stay in the moment. That’s where it all happens…

The present moment is the only moment in which we can become aware of, and accept exactly what is going on.

It means coming out of your head and grounding into your body.

You cannot do anything from your head alone…

We need to use our bodies to ground ourselves into the here and now long enough to download the information gathered whilst we were up there swimming in star dust. This is what Yoga is for. Use it…often!

Without thorough grounding, our flights of fancy are near to useless. Without flights of fancy, our lives are nearly useless…

This is where art and yoga must become one. The head of the Artist must join up with the body of the Yogi in order to experience enlightenment.

The Present is your eternal gift and your link with the rest of the universe. What you do with it is up to you, but being and artist and doing yoga are two very good routes to indestructible happiness, if you know why you are doing them and where you want to go. It’s not an external thing.

 Enlightenment is an inside job…

This is the kind of wisdom that Yoga will give you, and the same goes for art, if you do it like a Yogi does it!

Q: How does a Yogi practice art?

A: With intention and belief.

Intention to become wiser and belief that the process will facilitate that outcome.

We like to think that wisdom automatically occurs with age and yet those over forty, like myself know that it is hard-won, quite literally with blood, sweat and tears.

However, we are never immune from our own mistakes no matter, seemingly how many times we have been through a process; time and again we will let our attention wander, our quality guard down and take our eyes from the primary motivation. Bam! The work sucks or we injure ourselves on the mat by pushing when we should have been breathing and staying put.

Now is the time to change! Only now exists! Past and future are myth and  magic…unless you are Dr. Who of course!

So what happens when our ‘enlightenment’ crumbles and we can no longer see the way forward. This is when we need to take a well-earned break. A breath, an hour, a day, month, year…whatever it takes to reconnect with our truest desires and our deepest most virtuous motivations for doing what we love to do. This is the time to practice, for as long as it takes to regain your centre, then go further. You may never have to go down again.

Art and yoga both serve as excellent respite from life…

Once we have fallen into familiar ruts and without the ‘time out’ phases in our lives, we will continue to allow the ego to rule, driven by the fear of anything it can conceive, it will run us into the dirt and not stop to pause as we flounder in the mud we create with our own tears.

The shocking truth is that the ego self couldn’t give a toss about us! This is possibly the biggest paradox we must face because we have come to believe that the ego is our protection. It’s not!

The Ego or the little ‘i’ is the part of us that plays the many roles we particularly dislike; the braggart, the judge, the critic, the slanderer, the greedy one that always wants the biggest and the best. It is a fear based hangover from our survivalist genetic heritage. Paradoxically, it doesn’t really care for us in the way it says it does; it’s a ruse to allow it to survive; a lie that perpetuates it’s existence and we fall for it every time. Yet what are we without it and it’s ‘definitions’?

Art and yoga are doorways to our truest selves…the parts that transcend every label. Pure experience.

In reality the ego (I am this and this) has nothing to do with who we really are, however because we identify with its endless labels, naturally we have the potential to think of ourselves as being quite horrid. When the ego isn’t whispering noisy some-thing’s into our ‘mind ears’ we are usually quite unaware of our peaceful natures.

The truest self within us is not afraid, it is not greedy, or resentful…It is thoughtful, caring, peaceful, joyful and fun! Do you remember that side of yourself? How often?

Perhaps if you got on your yoga mat today or went to buy one, or went to paint that picture or learn how to draw you would begin to find your muse again. Perhaps you could give your mind a holiday, rest and take stock. Perhaps you could experience the stars as you reach and stretch. Perhaps you could feel your juices flowing as the paint drips…?

I recommend that you begin your practice today, whatever form it takes and learn how to stay closer to your true self, and before long, the whole world will open up like a lotus flower sprouting from the mud.

We are all the Buddha…Just like what the Buddha said innit?

Be the flower, not the mud