novjaro beno

novjaro beno

As the world awakens

To a dawning new year

May your dreams and your wishes

Feel ever more clear

In the moment when darkness

And gloom closes round

May a path of soft moonlight

Appear on the ground

And if you should happen

To stagger or sway

May your balance return

With the dance of Earth’s clay.

Let the voice of Earth’s oceans,

Her rivers and streams

Soothe jangling nerves

And rides of extremes.

And if numbness or grief

Become shivers of fright

May rainbows of colour

Embrace you with light

So that flurries of red

Orange and green

Indigo, yellow

And sky blue is seen.

When the actions of others

May fill you with dread

Remember that Spring

Follows Winter instead.

And the following three-

Sixty five that will dawn?

Consider the contrast

Is yours to transform.

Pivot bad thoughts,

Take flight on a dove –

Raise your vibration

Feel joy, peace and love.



The Voyage


I wrote this poem on a beautiful sunny September morning.  We were at sea and it was in the hours before our last seminar together with Abraham and Esther.  Enjoy 🙂

When heavy skies hang damp and cool

In an English Channel grey

The Silhouette – our ship most fine

Sails ‘midst white horses soaked in brine,

Her gleaming bows cut through with ease

These swollen, choppy, steely seas.


It’s far above her waking decks

I find Crow’s quiet, cosy nest,

Astounding views, expanding views

One eighty of the very best

Where sky meets Sea and seagulls soar

I gasp wide-eyed and feel the more.


The passage smooth, our course is south

Beyond a blue Atlantic mouth

Where Spanish flare and passions rise

To Lisbon’s ancient castle prize.

A voyage so rich, this journey’s sweet

Exploring, moving, much to meet.


Gibraltar’s Straits, her monkeys too

Moroccan peaks, surprising views.

The Silhouette, our ship most fine,

Her crew, the people, cabin – mine!

Momentum grows, quickening pace

Blessed beauty, abundant grace.


Laughter’s sails fill with glee

Voyaging the Med, Blue Sapphire’s Sea

Where rests a harbour, jewel of calm

And Roman roads are lined with palms.

There marble paths lead smooth as glass

To ancient ruins, stories past.


There’s so much more I wish to say –

The friendships, contrast and the play

My moonlighted cabin bathed in light

Soft Ocean whispers through the night

Until new threshold, day is born

And magic sparkles with the dawn.

Letters from the Cottage

What a moment.  What a place.  What a time!

LGCView2My second morning and I’m loving it!  I wonder why I’d tucked away the thought of coming here to write?  Now that I sit here tapping away however, with bright blue sea and sunshine pouring through the window, the clarity is total.


The detail makes me laugh. For what was once a bed with a view is now my chair with a view.   It is a home-coming of beautiful measure … a return to Self and childlike moments cherished.

Pausing, there’s a sudden clatter, as if many crabs race, side-stepping across the parquet floor.  Bezel lifts his head and brown eyes twinkle with curiosity.  Getting up I investigate, crossing the point between the sun-drenched cottage at the back of the room to the dark shade and sound of raindrops at the front…. another threshold and childlike footprints in the sand…..

I remember how she’d wear a gypsy scarf tying it back under her thick, curly red hair. There were long poles to carry with green nets on the end, a lined plastic bag and a pair of tough looking gloves that were rarely used.

…. Watching the dark squall head out across a sunlight sea, its black cloud heavy with grey showers, my mind turns to the beauty of contrast. How boring life would be without sunshine and showers.  Wet, glistening green leaves shiver in a stiffening wind.

I sit back and listen …. Memories come and go, carried on the breeze.  I like that where I am sitting now is where my pillow was nearly five decades ago.

I like that it’s still the room with the view.  And what a view!  Like a grey veil is drawn across the bright horizon, another shower heads out to sea.  The tide is on the turn.

Bezel comes over with ‘lunchtime’ in his eyes.  We head into what has now become a spacious, open, sunny open plan kitchen where Bezel enjoys a combination of fish and liver while I cut open a mango. Juice oozes, more memories by the sea….

“Ready?”  The tall woman with the gypsy scarf and flaming red hair is standing at the porch.  My seven year old hands grab a beach bucket and I beam a smile of rabbit teeth, we’re out the door and on our way.

It doesn’t take long to get down to the shore.  The tide is out and jagged rocks sit idle and exposed, while others wrapped in horsetail kelp, gleam in summer sun.

Mother leads the way.  Little legs run to keep up as she heads down to the eastern side of the beach.  She has a plan.  She knows where the best pools are, she’s been coming here for years.