A more beautiful world is possible,
He said.


It’s much more than possible:
It’s emerging.

It’s emerging from our opening hearts,
From our quickening reverence for the sacred earth,

From the re-awakening of the divine feminine power,
And from the soul-deep response of the divine masculine
To his eternal beloved,

And from their long-desired reunion.

It’s emerging from the star-seeded glyphs
And poetries
And prophesies
Of the golden age,
Planted long ago
In the fertile soil
Of our multi-dimensional minds,
And which are now unveiling themselves,
Awakening themselves,
Offering themselves to our
Real-time dreams and
Dreamtime visions,
Coalescing into a rainbow bridge
All across the globe.

It’s emerging from our every act of love,
Our every prayer for peace,
Our every gesture
Of divine humility:
The humility of stars
Shining in joy for no other reason than
Excess of light.

It’s emerging from the fissures,
Opening up and widening now,
In the self-dismantling matrix
Of separation.

It’s emerging from beneath and within the shadows of the psyche,
And from forgotten pockets of unbroken wholeness
Scattered across the continents of earth and soul.

It is emerging,
From being itself,
From the cosmic womb
That is emanating our whole universe of experience
Each moment
And infinite.

A new paradise is emerging upon this our miracle earth.
The dream is transfiguring within and around us.

We can experience it as grace.
We can experience it as divine unfolding.
We can allow ourselves to enter the field of its magic,
Its effortless transformative flow.

Our only job,
Is to let go
Into what we most truly love,
Into the ways of being,
The relationships,
The environments
And the activities that our souls have a complete and holy “yes” to.

This “yes” is our doorway into Paradise Earth.

This “yes” is the ecstatic response
Of the lover
In her lover’s arms,
A full and effortless embracing of the unique
And infinite possibilities
Of love
In the flowing moment
Of union.

This moment,
This one
And every moment,
Can be such a moment.

Are we willing to accept this?

No preparation is required.

We don’t need to stand on tiptoes to embrace our divine “yes”.
We don’t need to renounce our deepest desires
For joy,
Our “yes” arises from and flows into these desires.

Paradise is our natural state,
Our equilibrium point,
The most deeply sustainable way of life there is.

Paradise is our home,
Our gently beating heart,
Our indigenous, star-lit soul
Fully embodying
Here upon the stardust of Earth’s
Primordial matrix,
A spontaneously self-shaping creation
Of inexhaustible magic.

We stand at a turning point
Between the apogee of global disaster
And the gentle dawning
Of a beauty and grace
Which is beyond our hitherto wildest dreams,

A solstice of destiny.

The awe and wonder at who we are
And the vastness of the transformation that is emerging
Is bringing our hearts to their knees
In excruciating
And blissful
To a reality that is at once impossibly magnificent
And as tender-soft and close as breath.

Amidst the wreckage of the disaster
We can allow ourselves to be broken
To a grace and beauty
Of multiversal proportions,
To the unfathomable truth
And infinite goodness that we already are
And have always been,
And to the miracle that is

‘Apogee’ refers to the highest point in the development of something; a climax or culmination; also, significantly, the point in the orbit of the moon or a satellite at which it is furthest from the earth. In Taoist philosophy, whenever Yin or Yang reach their most extreme expression, their apogee, they naturally and spontaneously begin to transform into their opposite.


Holy Mountain

With each step
Onto the holy mountain
I am slain.

By each fresh encounter
With a reality that overwhelms
My precious,
Worldview, I am broken.

Broken, broken again
By the love
Of which the mountain is made.

Skin from skin
By the claws of the eagle
Who knows
It’s impossible
To step
Without carrying your whole world with you
Unless that step
Is a death
And a transformation.



Like honey from a jar,
Each moment adhering to the next
In primal resonance,
Light flows into me
Towards the root of things.

I sometimes open deep enough
To breathe down to my toes,
Or let the singing stream
Remember me to the sea.

I sometimes clothe the mountain of my mind
In thunder
Loud enough to loosen rock
From rock,
And send them falling
Down through the abyss.

I sometimes sit with the dying embers
As one by one they crumble and fade,
Pursuing them into the blackening darkness
Where name cannot follow.

From the quiet root of things
The day is born
And, circling like the sun,
A lover to his lover’s arms

Where time and light dissolve
Like honey into wine
Or breath into bone.

If I open,
Light flows into me
To its home.