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Zen and Sea Fever

  I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking, And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking. Sea Fever ...

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Rivers, Mountains and Stones

EAST END OF LONDON,  JACK the Ripper and the Whitechapel murders. The Poor Houses of the 19th century. It is a troubled part of town even today with a high percentage of impoverished ethnic minorities. But - the Rolling Stones. There I was last night at the Olympic...

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Soulmates and Sparklers

IT HAS JUST HAPPENED AGAIN. I was taking a stroll along the river this afternoon lost in no-mans-land, grateful for an early Spring breeze after the biting snows of last week when a young woman appeared from nowhere and asked me if she could ask me a question. I...

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The Breath is Life

I AM IN INDIA. That moment when you step off the plane from the freezing fog of a rational west, bleary, boss-eyed and bedecked in overcoat, crumpled blanket and super-sized socks grabbed at the airport, and slip into the penetrating saffron haze of an early Indian...

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Samadhi in the Seventies

I AM 61 TODAY. Why, you might ask, am I writing a blog at midday when I should be out at a Sunday lunch partying to celebrate this most auspicious day? I indeed asked myself the same question, particularly as this time last year I was standing on my balcony aboard a...

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