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Hi Sarah,
Sorry about taking so long.  I did put a post up with another poem, however for some reason its not here.  Maybe I didn't post it properly.  Anyway, here it is.  This one is called "memory".  Enjoy!  It also is from Becoming.

MEMORY

Sweet memory,
You are like a hidden valley,
Flowing with a secret river,
Filled with looming trees
In the dark twilight of recollection.
Deep within me, a place only I know of,
My very life courses by
And comes upon you,
Nearly forgotten of
In the quick, ceaseless current of living.
But when I am quiet,
Contemplatively cognitive,
I float by
And see the sweet things you provide;
Once I strayed into your shelter
And planted seeds;
Now look how they have grown!
For if once your valley was empty,
Now it grows,
As I have grown,
And here once again,
I see new lushness.
I have passed you by,
And left you behind;
But you see:
I am a wanderer,
And when I pull my raft to shore,
I stray back over the hills
To you,
My sweet memory.
Often I will sit by,
Under the many boughs hiding you,
Swaying in the breathing wind.
And sometimes,
I see upon the branches
The precious fruits;
They are delightful,
A dreamful dallop;
Though they do not sustain,
They nourish the mind
And feed the longing
Of the weary wanderer.
Oh my sweet memory,
If I am to go by
Every day of my life,
Passing your many places;
If I am to speed down my destiny
Without stopping,
Then I would be like a wraith:
Empty of joy,
Empty of self,
For it is your valleys
To which I shall go
And rest my soul
When the river flows into the pool
And my raft is tied to the dock.

Hi Sarah,

Why I thank you for that comment!  It is a great help to have my intuition about the work confirmed: that is speaks to people.

It is a selection from my book, Becoming, which is very much a channeled work, i.e. I felt like I was being "told" what to write by a distant part of my mind as I wrote it.  I have since learned about my role as a channeler, and the natural cycle that comes and goes.  Becoming is an example of something written by the "higher self".  I was reluctant to pursue publication because I thought it was just poetry...then, with the encouragement of many who read it and were moved (one woman, twice my age, was in tears!), I have taken the step to market it.

Perhaps I can share some more of the selections?  Let me know if you would like this.  

Thanks for the compliments on the art too!  It is my own simple style, I'm not an artist at all!  Just some doodling with pencil crayons - I guess it suffices for now!

-Graeme

You are very right about that - the merging of the physical body with the spiritual body.  Often times, people who become aware of the realm of the spirit (i.e. astral and mental planes and their being shaped from even higher planes of being) cannot properly manifest in the physical.  

I like to use the metaphor of the person as a tree.  You have your roots (connections with the physical body) which extend into the ground (your unique temporospatial co-ordinates in the physical plane.  Your branches (connections to the spirit) reach upward, toward the sun which compels their growth (the spirit body itself, the *true self*, or God, whatever you choose to term it), and are connected to the roots by the trunk (the illusive *self* which you are presently confined to).  

Any tree that does not have deep roots will topple in a very strong wind.  Similarly, anybody who does not root their spiritual growth into the physical world is in extreme danger of deluding the *self*.  Just as the greater the growth of a tree's branches means it must have deeper, stronger roots, so is the one initiated to develop their spiritual body and incorporate it into the *self* required to root themselves in the physical.

I can appreciate this model, because I've experienced its truth.  It's very easy to receive insight from the spirit, be taken by it, and then collapse because you didn't have anything to make it "useful".  We are not here to unplug from the physical world, but to grow into it.  Grow meaning manifest our true self, the spirit body, in the physical and in so doing, transform into images of the spirit and not just the physical, illusive body.

Hey guys,

I am very much an intuitive reader, i.e. I read what my intuition leads me to read.  I've gobbled up things from Tolkien's writing to writing on spirituality/philosophy, etc.

In the last half-year there are two books which I've read which have heavily shaped me.  They are great books for opening your horizon to new thoughts, if you have been used to very religiously rigid parameters.

The first book is called, "The Biology of Transcendence" by Joseph Chilton Pearce.  He is also the author of the book, "The Crack in the Cosmic Egg".  You may be able to get it online from the publisher if you go to http://www.innertraditions.com, but I picked it up at Chapters in Canada.  
Essentially, this book shows you how the human spirit is intricately linked with our biology.  The most interesting idea in it is about the development of the frontal lobes as structures where we can operate separate from our reality-based perceptions, much like we see "enlightened people" doing.  The book blew me away because it is so full of comparisons to the words of Jesus (Pearce uses him as a model throughout as the ideal enlightened being) and the biological evidence that has emerged recently.

The second book is called "The Jesus Mysteries" by Timothy Freke and Peter Gandy.  This book is for those who want to see the value of Christianity as a metaphor.  If not, then this book will seriously test one's faith.  The authors, with stunning (and I mean STUNNING...must be about 5000 footnotes in the back to refer to!) diligent research and very good flow/direction, go through the entire Jesus story and the history of the developing church to show how evidence suggests that it was just a modification of the perennial dieing/resurrecting God-man who in Egypt was known as Osiris, and in Greece was known as Dyonysis.  The book really makes you think, and is very well presented.

Anyway, if you've already read it and would like to add feedback, please do, or if you haven't and have additional questions, if you post here I'll tell you more.


Happy reading!

Graeme

eHey guys,
I'm net to this forum, this section seems like a very good place to share writing.  This poem is from a book I've published, thought I'd share it to get some feedback (and free advertising! lol).

It's called "Despair":


There is no hope -

I am an empty vessel,

My sails are torn and tattered,

My oars have been lost in the water

Far behind.


The wood is cracked all about me,

And slowly the water is filling in;

I am sinking

Deeper, deeper

Into a sea of despair.

Battered by defeat,

I see no reason to stay afloat.

I have seen the calm beneath,

Where things float by

Peacefully,

And the storm cannot reach me;

Where the sun is a phantom light.

So quiet down there;

Why not go?

For there, time forgets me,

And the unseen things of this world

Will build upon me

A monument of a former time now forgotten.

What am I but a ship,

Alone,

Floating without direction,

Just one of many in an endless sea,

Doomed to sink like the others.

Why should I hope

To come to the land I seek

When there is no wind,

And my entirety is falling apart?

But I cannot forget the crafter

Who built the boat

With care for every detail,

Who set me upon the water

When I left his dock.

I cannot remember his parting words,

For I was asleep when I left;

And then I awoke on the sea

Far away.

I had only the birds to guide me,

And only the rare islands of happiness

In the sea of sorrow

Brought me sustenance,

That I might go on

Further

To where I am led.

Yet with each day,

I see the sun over the water,

And far off,

I know there is land.

Not just an island with limits,

Which will sustain me only for a time,

But which will sustain me endlessly,

For all time,

In ways which I can only dream of.

In the darkness

When the water pours in,

I think to sink myself

In the dolorous depths;

But then morning comes,

And I cannot believe how foolish I was:

For the sunrise

Is so beautiful

That hope returns from its hibernation

And walks inside me again.

How strange indeed

That at times the dark can be so thick,

So great

That the sun is forgotten.

I must remember,

That a storm has but a season,

But the sun ever burns;

My spirit never sleeps,

Even when the soul weeps.

What is it that you are trying to get published?  If you give me the specifications, I can give you a good idea of where to look.  Your best bet is finding a literary agent first, which if you're in the UK, I can give you a link to a web reference containing many.  But I'll wait until you tell me what you have before giving you advice.