For people of my generation this can be a shock – we weren’t prepared for this. You get creaky. You can’t handle things you used to be able to do.
Gravity gets heavier, bodily frailties set in, people forget you and doctors start taking over your life.
But there’s something special about this last stage of life – it’s a chance to complete the story of our lives and bring things to some sort of conclusion. If we ignore this, there can be quite a lot of baggage to carry into the afterlife.
This is about the deepest and potentially the richest time of our life-cycle, when we can advance psycho-spiritually in ways that, earlier in life, we used to pay large amounts for, going on courses and retreats and doing snazzy practices.
I can’t chop logs and climb hills like I used to, but another mobility has arisen instead, deep down inside.
Getting old is about growing wiser, not getting stiff, conservative and grumpy.
I rather love Sundays. It’s a bit strange, that, since I live and spend most of my time alone, so there’s not much difference between Sundays and other days. But there is a difference, on two counts. The first is that this is the day of the week that I take my cancer drugs – Ixazomib, Lanalidomide and Dexamethasone. I have a small breakfast, fast for two hours, take the drugs and then fast for another hour or so. Then I spend much of the rest of the day rather out of my head. But at least it’s legal.
The second is the Sunday meditation. By evening, the drug effects have worn off a bit, helped by a herb I take called Resveratrol (Japanese Knotweed, no less), which helps balance me out, and with absorption of the drugs.
I’ve been doing the meditation since the 1990s, almost without fail, around 1,500 times now. Yes, if committedly you do a meditation once a week, it adds up.
The numbers don’t matter but, during that time, some of those meditations will in some way be extra special, even life-shifting. Looking back over my life, though I’ve done a few things with it, my feeling is that these meditations have been one of the most significant things I have done, ever.
No one and nothing have been able to stop me, because it can be done at a bus stop, in the corner of a cafe or even when in distinctly unsupportive company. You just have to go quiet and lock on to the beam. I’ve even delivered a few public talks during the meditation, letting my friends upstairs drop ideas into me for conveying to the audience. I even did it once in Israeli detention at Checkpoint 500 outside Bethlehem, but it wasn’t serious and they let me out thanks to good behaviour. The tofu I was carrying, which I’d bought in Tel Aviv, looked to them like Semtex, but the officer in charge rather liked me, letting me go. I didn’t have the profile, vibe or age of a terrorist, he reckoned.
But, most weeks, it’s a day of return. Return to a certain perspective that comes with the meditation, even before it starts. It’s a bit like going home. Regardless of what has happened in the previous week, and regardless of my state of mind and heart, which at times are not at peace, I can lock back into the energy-space, the continuity, the flow of the meditation.
Yet it’s different every time too – it’s a parallel thread of sanity, of re-anchoring and of bathing in the blessing-field of the inner, deep-space overlighters who preside over the occasion. They do things to me, or sometimes they set tasks, or sometimes I’m just floating in their energy-world.
Sometimes I section up the meditation. It starts with a self-healing routine with my ‘inner doctors’, who scan me, flood me with light and sometimes perform operations. For this to work I have to clear my psyche, empty myself out, let them in and allow them to draw me up to their level.
Then we progress to ‘any other business’ – and this varies a lot from week to week. Often it involves seeing things going on at the time in a different light, or blessing and thanking those who have troubled me, or changing my position in an energy-constellation of relationships and situations, to unlock them, and to own up, at least to myself, about the ways I have contributed to creating or maintaining the situation. Even if it involves Donald Trump – poor man.
Then comes the work. If I don’t already know where to go, I ask my inner friends to send me to a world situation where I might be able to bring some release, healing and forwardness, or do some spiritual mop-up, or, a bit like a surveillance drone, connect them into the details of a situation so that they can do what they need to do with it. Recently this has concerned Iran, though I’ve done a lot with the two Palestines too.
Then it comes to an end and, amazingly, the blessing-field shuts off. This can be quite distinct, and always exactly at 7.30 GMT. If I’m sleepy I sometimes doze off at that time. Sometimes I go into a different kind of meditation, and sometimes I get up.
Then I spend the rest of the evening in a reflective state and, if I have thought ahead, by then a meal will have simmered its way to readiness in my slow-cooker. Or perhaps Claire or Selena, two members of Friends of Palden, bless them, have left some food in the fridge.
I’m so fortunate to have a small group of helpers who look after me, and I’m so grateful to them for that. It means so much to me, and I am so happy that they feel it is worth it. I’m also at present super-grateful to my former partner, who left four years ago, for the love and care she gave during my first two years of my cancer journey. I became too much for her. Sometimes we truly appreciate things and people when we no longer have them – and this emptiness can also be a gift if we make it so.
If you don’t know about the meditation, try here: www.palden.co.uk/meditations.html – and, if you wish, do join in. It’s your choice and your move. You might be meditating alone, physically, wherever you are, but you are in good company. Just do whatever meditation you normally do, except with us – this is about spiritual diversity.
Meditation times for different countries are below.
And now it is time for breakfast and pills! And for another day, feeding the birds, going for a staggery walk and delighting in the silence of my own company. Yesterday I felt unhappy being alone but today it is different: loneliness is a feeling while aloneness is a simple fact, and that feeling can be changed.
Because everything is a gift. As many of my Arabic friends would say, everything comes from and returns to Allah. We bathe in the wide-open field of the Vastness. And ever shall it thus be so.
Love from me. Palden.
———————
Current meditation times, on Sundays: GMT: UK, Iceland, Ireland & Portugal: 7-7.30pm W Europe: 8-8.30pm E Europe, Turkiye, Israel, Palestine, Egypt: 9-9.30pm Jordan, Syria, Iraq, Iran, UAE: 10-10.30pm Pakistan: midnight-00.30 Monday India: 00.30-01.00 Monday Oz: AEST 5-5.30am Monday NZ: 8-8.30am Monday Greenland: 5-5.30pm Brazil-Argentina 4-4.30pm Venezuela, Bolivia, Chile 3-3.30pm EST, Cuba 2-2.30pm CST, Mexico, Jamaica, Colombia 1-1.30pm PST, West Coast North America 11am-11.30am
Once I encountered a paper bag, and on the side was printed, ‘Recycled materials – do come again’. Yes indeed, if that is your path. There’s also the option of going beyond.
But that depends a lot on what we do with the life we have, and the way we played our hand of cards.
This is one of the best blogs I’ve written and it’s time to give it another spin. It’s all about dying, and prepping for it while we’re alive.
Ancient guardian at Pordenack Point, Cornwall. Busy watching.
Quite a few people have followed my outpourings because I’m a cancer patient with some deep and wide perspectives on it. I’m one of those who was told I had perhaps a year to live (and it felt like it), and here I still am, six years later.
I haven’t said much about cancer recently. Partially because I’ve said a lot already and tend not to repeat myself. However, there are recent friends and followers out there who haven’t had the full story.
I’m mulling it all over… and that’s part of the reason for relative silence on it. My cancer book ‘Blessings that Bones Bring’, available on my site, is undergoing a revision, and a new version will come out sometime – here in Cornwall we say ‘dreckly’. It needs to be shorter and more focused on what matters most to cancer patients and their helpers. Some new reflections are brewing, but my psyche moves slowly nowadays…
If you need something now, then go to my podcast page and look for the ‘Cancer and Dying’ section. To get a sense of the progression from earlier to later days, start from the bottom and work upwards. It’s here:
I have an incurable blood cancer called Multiple Myeloma – it can only be managed and held at bay, medically. It affects the bones: the first sign, in my case, was that the four bottom vertebrae in my back collapsed and, from that day on, my life changed. Rather painfully at first.
I became a partially-disabled old crock. It was a soul-shift. I’m not sure whether I went down with cancer or went up with it. But it confirmed and tested a life-lesson I had already learned, that everything in life is a gift.
Repeat: everything in life is a gift. Especially at those times when it doesn’t feel like it.
Time spent in Palestine taught me that, though cancer took it to a new level. As a peacemaker, I distinctly disbelieve in the notion of ‘fighting cancer’ – and as it happens, I’m still alive, so there might be something in it.
Cancer is not a failure or an aberration – it is a gift. It is an awakener. It presents hard facts and profound choices. This is about free will at its deepest level. Surrender. Acceptance like you’ve never accepted before.
Living with cancer is very difficult, and that’s the point. It confronts us on why we’re here and what it’s all about.
I’m in a different life now, drawing on the mixed outcomes of the life I’ve had, but it feels like a different life. Funny, that.
Anyway, I woke up with this morning with the thought to reconnect with fellow cancer-experiencers, and something is brewing, and I just wanted to say that.
If you’re struggling through the darkness, just keep going. On a soul level, during times like that we make a lot of progress.
Amidst all the noise, bother and confusion pervading our world today, we need to zoom out, for there are far bigger questions to give attention to.
These are not just the enormous challenges in our ecosystem and with the human condition that we see before us. There’s more.
We’re heading for a time when as a planetary race we must face the fact that we are not alone. This has enormous implications.
This pod is all about the way our world will change when we start facing this. Our petty squabbles, the ways we oppress each other and the ways we wreck our world will take on a very different complexion.
One day, this small matter will trump everything.
A contactee in several senses, I’m happy to share some insights that might be worth considering!
This is a short talk I gave recently in Penzance, Cornwall, during a Palestine-support event.
Many of us get caught up in the big issues around Palestine, often paying a lot of attention to our own countries’ or international politics and inadvertently forgetting actual Palestinians in places like Gaza. Anyway, the politics is a nightmare that’s going nowhere anytime soon.
This is about making friends with an actual Gazan, taking a person-to-person approach. It can have a bigger effect that you might at first imagine. And the friendship and benefit goes both ways.
In the talk I recommend a website run by Gazan young people: www.wearenotnumbers.org – check it out.
Thanks to Gershon Baskin of Jerusalem – a good-hearted Israeli – for a quote from his recent writing. Well done Adam Stout and Alison Dhuanna for organising the event – and thereby raising 600 GBP to help a few Gazans.
A correction: to get out of Gaza costs $5,000, and it is paid to the Egyptians at Rafah Crossing, who pay the Israelis, and both take their cut. It’s just as bad, whatever the excuse and whoever does it – exploiting people in need.
With love, Palden
By the seaside. Photo by Refaat Ibrahim of wearenotnumbers.org
Having done battle with the Furies of Storm/Hurricane Goretti, and by the grace of hard-working local tree surgeons and power engineers, I’m back online and able, yet again, to elbow you about the Sunday Meditation!
Usually I do it weekly on Facebook and occasionally here on my blog. From now on I shall do this more occasionally, since I’m slowly losing my capacity to sit easily at a keyboard and activate it in a manageable way.
That is, though I sound lucid and coherent, as a meticulous Virgo and retired editor I go over and over it at least five times, and that’s getting laborious. A life of service to keyboards is slowly grinding down as finger-coordination declines and brains slowly decouple from this World of Ten Thousand Things.
But meditation is another thing, and I’ll be there, regardless, at the appointed time, whatever the weather or circumstances, at least until my passing and possibly for a while afterwards. The times are below, and if you are so moved, you are welcome to find a place to park yourself and join a holy party! And if not this week, then another week.
It’s also a good, doable and undemanding life-habit to establish, since the blessing-channel will be open and operative at 7-7.30pm GMT whatever happens. Times in other timezones are below. For me, over the last thirty years, and having had a life with little regularity to it, it has been like a cosmic timecheck – one thing that has been constant and unchanging over time, whatever is going on and wherever I have been – even in car parks, trains, deserts and cow fields. Funny, that.
It’s easy. Meditate, contemplate, be mindful, go quiet, make prayer, go inner-journeying, drop out for half an hour, and do it in your customary way. There’s no prescribed method or mantra, no sign-up and no need to be online. Just be present. I sometimes call it ‘cosmic availability’. We’re just a bunch of bright souls sitting together in inner space, at an appointed time. It amplifies the outcomes.
It is overlighted by a collective of cosmic beings I’ve worked with for decades, the Council of Nine, and if you resonate with me, then you’ll probably resonate with them. But they don’t meddle with us. They put it this way: if you meddle too much with your children you’ll drive them against you, and that is what free will is all about. So they don’t meddle – they subscribe to the Prime Directive (and that Startrek concept came from them). But they do like to support us in exercising our free will – our true and deep free will. More about them here: www.palden.co.uk/nine.html
As for times of passing, it’s funny how things go. If you’re spiritually oriented then other forces tend to take over, and the timing of death is not just a medical matter involving normal probabilities. It’s now six and also four years since I should have died, medically speaking, but here I am, and though I experience deterioration and decline of capacities and fascinating changes of viewpoint, I have no idea at all whether I have weeks, months or years ahead. This weekend my ‘perceptual age’ is in my mid-90s, though on a good day it’s 80-85ish, and my physical age is 75.
Thanks to all of you who have flown alongside over recent times, and may it continue, and may it bring benefit to you and to our benightedly shining planet. This isn’t a resignation letter but it’s always good to say things that need saying while we still can – or perhaps, when in the mood! Perhaps the Furies shook me up.
Love from me, Palden.
Current meditation times, on Sundays:
GMT: UK, Iceland, Ireland & Portugal 7-7.30pm W Europe 8-8.30pm E Europe, Turkiye and the Levant 9-9.30pm Iran: 10-10.30pm Pakistan: midnight-00.30 Monday India: 00.30-01.00 Monday Oz: AEST 5-5.30am Monday NZ: 8-8.30am Monday Greenland: 5-5.30pm Brazil-Argentina: 4-4.30pm Venezuela, Bolivia, Chile: 3-3.30pm EST, East Coast North America, Cuba: 2-2.30pm CST, Mexico, Jamaica, Colombia: 1-1.30pm PST, West Coast North America: 11am-11.30am
They came. And they went. They went scorching along the south coast of Britain toward the Netherlands. The storm gods, that is. It was a right old holy hoolie, a demonstration of the Power and the Glory for everyone in Cornwall to hide away from. And we did.
It’s one of those situations where you just have to huddle down, say your prayers and wait. One of those situations where even proudly hubristic secular rationalists start saying a prayer, just in case. You have to wait until it’s over, because it’s no longer in your power to do anything much else.
The winds were resolute, firm and consistent, not blustery or tricksy – they were forceful, merciless and thoroughly unrestrained. This was what in capitalism they call a hostile take-over. No consultation, no regard for human rights, no compassion: just the energy and might of a full-on Atlantic storm, a gift of the gods to remind us how small we are and how easy it is to wipe us out and dispose of us, if Nature so chooses.
Too often, we arrogant, self-centred, comfort-addicted humans forget this. It’s not that difficult for Nature to blink or cough, sending us beetling off to Heaven in our thousands, for the angels to sort out. Well, I’m heading that way anyway, sometime soon, and if the weather gods wish to take me today, getting in there first before the cancer gods get me, then what a way to go. I won’t complain. You have to get to Heaven somehow, after all, and in this there is no choice except for timing and method.
But it was okay. The lights went off and I sat in bed, reading in candlelight a novel about the Dreyfus Affair of 1890s France – as it happens, topically, a prime example of institutional anti-Semitism if ever there was one. Then I dropped off to sleep, with 100mph winds screeching over my little cabin, The Lookout.
They were coming from the northwest, and a hill stands there behind the farm, sheltering us from the Atlantic vastness, 3,000 miles of it, and it was okay. Had the winds been coming from the south, as in some of the storms of 2014, there would have been trouble on the farm. We were okay, but across Cornwall a lot of people were not, and many trees lost their lives. I found myself wondering what small birds do in super-storms like this, like the tits, dunnets and the robin who patronise the feeder outside my door.
Anyhow, I’m a survivor, and programmed up for it. Well, much of the time. The main dangers I have faced in my life have been from humans – control-freaky Israeli soldiers, nervy Palestinian freedom fighters, gritty ISIS terrorists and crack-addled Nigerian criminals – and the force of Nature has a more comforting side to it.
It is mighty, threatening and decisive, administering justice in a remarkably even-handed way and singling out all those things you’d failed to notice or do anything about during calmer times, making them fly. But it speaks the words of The Ultimate, and no one can argue with that – even The Donald, living as he does in a hurricane corridor called Florida, the land of the flowers, who badly needs to realise that he is not God and never will be.
But human dangers are another matter, and with them you’re dealing with a different, more capricious and regrettable kind of randomness.
When I woke up there was no power or water. Jon, the farmer, was clearing up the mess in the farmyard – the roof of his woodshed had radically repositioned itself. There was no phone signal, so a neighbour had driven to where there was a signal, finding out that we might, with luck, expect power back Friday afternoon. It took until Saturday afternoon.
Well and good. Except there’s one problem. Why is it that the power always returns just at that moment when you’re beginning to enjoy the calm and the candlelight?
But I do have a woodstove, and it soon was alight. There was the light of a lovely golden dawn over the valley, exhibiting another kind of Power and Glory from that of the night before. The birds were very quiet, probably a bit groggy after a long, trying midwinter night. There was no sign of the flight of geese who pass over the farm in the morning, hooting and croaking to the Void as if sadly lamenting the insecurity and non-attachment that migrating animals have to accept. They’d probably come from Greenland, Iceland or Norway, now wondering whether they might have been better to stay there.
So I pottered around. The worst that can happen is that the food in my freezer defrosts. No bombs are falling, and no earthquake-aftershocks are to be expected. Before long a saucepan was on the woodstove, warming up for the first pot of tea. I stumbled down into the farmyard and along the track to check a neighbour – yes, she was okay and huddling in bed with her dog. I came back, making my walking-stick work hard, poured the tea and read more of my book. Then I rooted around in the cupboards and found a Tilda pack of lemon and herb rice – and that went on the stove too, with some grapes thrown in.
One of the best meals I’ve ever had was during an Israeli lockdown on the West Bank. People in the rich world, all neurotic about our loss of freedoms, complained loudly during the Covid lockdowns, but with an Israeli lockdown, well, if you go out, you risk getting shot – it’s quite simple. Israeli troops are trained to shoot first and think later. In circumstances such as this, a kind of culinary gallows humour takes over and, using what you have in the cupboards, some amazing feasts can be had.
This is partially a perceptual issue. At a Palestinian refugee quarter outside Damascus, since I was a European with some diplomatic skills, I went out to see if I could find some food for the family I was staying with. We outsiders sometimes could get to places and negotiate things that others could not – though it would depend, of course, on the mood and values of any gun-toting man you met along the way, and whether they spoke English, German, Swedish or French. My ageing, sixty-something brains were having difficulty absorbing Arabic.
I usually managed to convince them I was a decent chap. Arabs are good at reading your body-language. Anyway, it was my lucky day and I came back with a shoulder-bag of bread – including, strangely, a plastic-wrapped pack of German pumpernickel. We had a true feast – of bread, with a few old, chewy olives thrown in. And, believe me, it was a wondrous and happy feast. Palestinians are well used to this kind of thing, though they have one weak point: they go through big coffee-withdrawal problems during lockdowns and hard times.
People often ask me what I used to do in Palestine and Syria. Well, I’ve done three books and an audiobook on the matter (links below), but the short answer is, things like this. Such as finding bread for a family to eat because, in the circumstances, I had the capacity to do so. It’s a small matter, finding food, but a meal can have a big effect on people’s mood and welfare. And you get to eat something too.
So a Cornish winter hoolie, well, it takes me back to that alert, resigned, improvisational, ready-to-run state that you get into when stuck in an emergency. You’re out of control of your fate, yet strangely in control too – though it’s necessary to leave the fear until later. In a funny sort of way it brings out the best in me. Comfortably normal regularity is not my forte, as my former partners can easily testify.
My computer battery is running out and I’ve said enough. I’ve been churning out verbiage for a whole lifetime, so no more is necessary. And, as usual, I’ve forgotten my tea and it has gone cold. So I’ll put my mug on the woodstove and, lo behold, in a few minutes it’ll be warm again. What simple delight can be found in small mercies.
And, as Arabs often say, Allahu Akbar, God is Great. Life is a wondrous thing. It’s a gift that’s worth cherishing while we have it. As something of an expert in other worlds and their characteristics, I can safely inform you that the tea on Earth is the best in the whole Universe. If you don’t believe me, your turn will come to find out.
However, compensations are available in Heaven. It’s a cool place to be, so don’t worry about the tea or other such things. Other things matter there. But just make sure that, when your own time comes, you’ve had enough of the experiences of this world to have, in another sense, truly had enough of them.
Since it’s solstice, here’s an extract from a book of mine, Power Points in Time, about the cycle of the solar year, for your interest. More about the book below.
We tend to take the cycle of the year for granted, viewing it in a rather reductionist, calendrical and mechanical manner. This is partially because the Western calendar has no natural basis, so we tend to think of a calendar as a matter of dating with no further significance. For a solar-based calendar it would make better sense to anchor it in the solstices and equinoxes, allowing us to move more in harmony with the seasonal undertow of life and nature and with overall energy-conditions.
The seasons are brought about by Earth’s orbital relationship with the Sun, in which she exposes each of her poles to the Sun for half of the year as she orbits around it. Each pole is maximally exposed to the Sun around the time of summer solstice, experiencing the midnight sun, while the other pole is in perpetual darkness during its winter solstice.
Outwardly, the Sun gives Earth light and heat, and inwardly there is a deeper energy-weather cycle activating and modulating life-force on Earth, connected with the solstices. Life-force courses through the subtle meridians of the Earth and the energy-systems and patternings of all living things. In terms of our daily lives, a year takes a while, but for the Earth it is just a short inbreath and outbreath in the long course of geological time.
The ancients took it upon themselves to invoke favourable seasonal change, in the knowledge that change is the essence of earthly life and rhythm is the breathing of life-force. They knew also that subtle energy patternings are the energy-framework upon which physically manifest things are draped.
Psycho-spiritually, the Sun within us resides at the centre of our being, around which all of the constituent parts of our psyche orbit. The Sun represents our fundamental raison d’etre, our will-to-live and our source of aliveness. It gets us up in the morning to meet a new day. You could say it channels the soul through into our personalities and earthly natures. It’s a vibrant, shining place within us which seeks to make something good out of life and to evolve through life’s experiences.
Through the Sun in our birth charts, we seek to become something more than we now are, to evolve and serve our purpose, to be part of the life-process and to contribute to it.
This inner Sun goes through its own cycle of the year. We each relate differently to it, depending on the position of the Sun in our birth charts, but we have a common cycle too – the Earth’s cycle. It’s about the fluxings of energy in life and nature and the thrumming of the resonant sphere of the Earth – we’re bathed in it, even when we live in big cities, even on the 25th floor. The Sun moves around the zodiac in the course of a year, exposing us to different shades and tonalities of life-experience as it moves through the signs. An Aquarian day can feel quite different from a similar Piscean day, and what we make of each is up to us.
There are twelve signs of the zodiac, and the zodiac is anchored in the four quarter-points of the year – the two solstices and two equinoxes. The solstices represent turning points and the equinoxes represent tipping points in the four seasons.
There’s a three-sign sequence in each season. The zodiac has little to do with the stars and everything to do with the solstices, equinoxes and seasonal alternation, outlining the qualitative and archetypal undertow of the four seasons.
An archetype is an image or root-model of fundamental patterning behind and within all happenings and situations. If I say ‘oak tree’ then you will immediately form an image of an idealised oak tree, even though oak trees vary in shape, size and detail. So an archetype represents a basic patterning or template by which living beings and things shape themselves, even though the precise manner of their shaping varies enormously in real life. And yes, trees have thoughts and feelings.
There’s something interesting here. In Britain, NW Europe and other temperate climes (between about 40° and 60° from the Earth’s equator), nature manifests its actual physical changes in an eightfold, not really a twelvefold pattern. This eightfold pattern is marked out by the four quarter points and also by the mid-points (or cross-quarters) between these. These are important in temperate higher latitudes because the alternation of light and dark, day-length and temperature are more emphasised there. This also happens on a subtle-energy level, and it is these changes which pull us around and squeeze us through certain kinds of experiences at certain times of year.
In latitudes closer to the equator, other factors are emphasised by local circumstances or traditions, such as prevailing winds, rainy seasons, river floods, the rising points of stars such as Sirius or the orbital cycles of Venus. Localised cultures saw things in the light of what was visibly important in their own localities. In Europe, the great ocean is westwards, yet in China it is eastwards, and in Brazil the rainy season determined the way indigenous peoples structured their beliefs, while in Europe or Canada spring and autumn do so.
An eightfold calendar is more natural in NW Europe than a twelvefold one, which originated in Mesopotamia – though they interlock. The Sami (Lappish) people of far-northern Europe have an eightfold year, five seasons being different kinds of what most of us would call winter. The ancient megalith builders of Atlantic Europe 4-5,000 years ago, stretched between Portugal and the Baltic, embodied eightfold mathematics into the alignments and placing of the standing stones and stone circles they built. But both eightfold and twelvefold calendars are anchored similarly in the solstices and equinoxes. So they are related.
The energy principles behind each year are represented by the twelve zodiac signs, and manifest seasonal changes are represented by an eightfold subdivision of the year. This interlocking of principles and practicalities has meaning to it. Here we’ll look at the eight annual subdivisions, and in the next chapter we’ll examine the twelve, the zodiac. The eight, the quarters and cross-quarters, were marked in ancient times by festivals when fires, beacons and lights were lit, representing and re-invoking the life-force.
Power Points in Time. This isn’t a normal astrology book – it has little to do with birth charts or specific events. It’s all about cycles of time – cycles big and small, as astrologers see them. But when the original version of this book, Living in Time, came out in 1987, we found that it wasn’t so much astrologers who got excited about it, but it was pagans, druids and lovers of nature, ancient sites and shamanic practices. So, 28 years later, I updated and reworked the book, which came out in 2015.
It’s still available in print, published by Penwith Press and, while it’s a bit late for Christmas, here’s a thought…
If you are a seeker on a quest to understand a bit more about what lies behind and underneath the events of your life, it pays to have a modicum of understanding of astrology as part of your general knowledge – really, the basics should be taught in schools to teenagers.
It takes a while to get your head and heart around the details, but it pays off, since it’s really interesting, and your understanding of it and of life will evolve over time, as the years progress – whether or not you become an actual astrologer. And wintertime is a great time to get focused on it.
If you’re into ancient sites and working with the inner magic of nature and of time, then here’s a secret. The ancients built their sacred sites at power points in the landscape, but they carried out their ceremonies, rites, healings and workings at power points in time. I wrote this book to help my friends identify and understand power points in time.
Time is what stops everything happening all at once.
These are kids at the Hope Flowers School in Bethlehem, West Bank, Palestine, and these pics were taken in the last few days.
They are orphans from Gaza, and refugee and special needs kids from the West Bank. Apart from giving a good education under difficult circumstances, the school gives kids the tools to process their anger, loss, fear and trauma, so that they grow up knowing there is another way. Another way from what has happened over the last hundred years in Palestine and Israel.
Note the performers. These look like visiting Europeans. They are independent humanitarians: they set about brightening up the lives of people in places like Palestine and they make a big difference. They often fund themselves to do so, and travel cheap and crash on sofas. Some are performers, some hairdressers, some are welders and some are law graduates, artists and retired professionals. Have you ever considered doing something like this?
Forget Trump and Natanyahu: this is the human frontline, where the real work of peacemaking happens. These children are, I hope, the generation who will see a big change across the Middle East. The times of war need to end now: we must do things another way. And these are the people who will do it. That is my prayer for them.
Here’s the translation of the text that came with the pics:
In an atmosphere filled with fun and positive energy, the professor of physical education, Mr. Mustafa, organized a special recreational day for the students of the school, in cooperation with the refugee center, where play, art, and laughter came together in an unforgettable day ✨
⭕ A variety of events between animated games that enhanced activity and interaction, face painting added colors of joy to the faces of children, alongside a theatrical circus that presented pleasant performances that brought joy to the hearts🎪😊
Our students also participated in playing with parschute and other group activities that contributed to promoting a spirit of cooperation, active discharge, and building self-confidence in a fun and safe way 🌟
⛔ This day was an open space for joy and expression, and an integrated recreational educational experience that emphasizes the importance of play in supporting our children’s physical and psychological development 💚
ـــــــــ🍂ــــــ We learn for human well-being ــــــ🍂ــــــــ
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Here’s a readable story about the history and philosophy of the school. It’s from my book Pictures of Palestine, and it’s called ‘Korea meets Palestine’. (Korea and Palestine were both divided in the same year, 1948.) https://www.palden.co.uk/pop/korea-meets-palestine.html
Notes from the Far Beyond 
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