A prose poem - a reflection between collecting and polishing rocks, and the work of spirituality.

At its best, poetry is the music of the soul, singing the songlines of our life’s trajectory and articulating its yearnings

The weather in Santa Barbara is sunny and warm, and I have written my 1000 words for the day. I am sitting on the sun lounge beneath the...

We sat drinking tea on the sandstone terrace of a property just outside Berrima in the southern Highlands south of Sydney. It was one of...

This morning I wandered by the ocean, marveling at the beauty of stone and shell, seaweed and sand. I found a pebble which seemed to be...

… and the rest, as they say, is history. Or, in this case, a new novel. For the past week I’ve been feeling rather lost. I miss the...

That feeling you get when … you’ve finished writing the final chapter of your book! At last, I’ve completed the trilogy. Well, that’s to...

The Japanese philosophy and aesthetic of wabi sabi has long been a source of interest for me. The contemplation of the ephemeral quality...

In early December 2020, I moved to a small village on the mid-north coast of New South Wales. Here, in the sub-tropics, in a simple...

Having just returned from ten days on the Coffs coast and in the Northern Rivers region of New South Wales, I’m now reflecting on the...