“One more song Daddy.” “Okay. Which one mate?” “Lennon.” “Imagine there’s no heaven, da-do-do-do-dooo, it’s easy if you try…” How can you say no to that? Well, after three hours of singing John Lennon’s Imagine for what seemed like the hundredth time, spattered between
There is nothing better than that feeling you get when you are utterly lost in doing what you love. You get emersed in the flow, caught up in a place where time is just a word and where troubles take a seat way back at the far end of your mind’s table. It is freeing,…
He’s a message in a bottle locked in time out at sea. He’s a message of love, so untainted and so free: His tears are like daggers, his laughter like wine.
I wrote this back in 2003 for St George and as a tribute to Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Envisioning the future and analysing the then present. In the NRL did St George, A stately, fearsome team decree; Where Ting, the sacred winger ran Through metres measureless to man Down to an in-goal sea.
I’ve been meditating for a number of months now. Okay so I missed a day here and there, but in general, I’ve been enjoying the practise and finding some peace and love in the process.
Eyes on glass,
Ears plugged in.
A bustling train, so empty.
The walking dead.