Sunday, 31 May 2009


I am getting old, dear God, and I'm very tired;
I'm not really certain why I'm here.
I've plodded along day by day,
Progressing very little year by year.

There are those never to be forgotten,
Their names are carved in stone.
They made history while residing here,
But I've just quietly meandered on alone.

I've nursed many a wee, sick animal,
But then I really like doing that!
I've helped the old folk now and then,
But I've enjoyed the tea and the chat!

I've always kept an open house
For those having lost their way,
Being sad, lost and alone is pitiful,
When from home you are far away.

It doesn't seem much does it, Lord?
So please tell me now, before I die,
Do you think I've done alright down here?
And a low voice whispered.... Aye.

Rhys Reese

Saturday, 30 May 2009

It Couldn't Be Done

I found this great little poem in the papers belonging to an Aunt of mine who passed many years ago. I hope you enjoy it and take it's meaning to heart. Lionel

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done,
But he, with a chuckle replied,
That, “Maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one
Who wouldn’t say no till he’d tried.
So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
On his face. If he worried, he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done, and he did it!

Somebody said, “Oh you’ll never do that –
At least, no-one ever has done it;
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
And the first thing he knew, he’d begun it.
With the lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done, and he did it!

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophecy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one
The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in, with a bit of a grin,
Then take off your coat and go to it;
Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing
That cannot be done, and you’ll do it!

Edgar A. Gust

Thursday, 28 May 2009

A Residence Called Mind

You cannot use a lantern
If you haven’t any light,
As a guiding flame for others,
Or to light your path at night.
You cannot bring together
All the friends you call your own
If you live in a house of darkness
You must live there all alone.

You cannot see the grandeur
Of the wonderful world outside,
God’s gift to all humanity
In which we all reside.
You cannot see the beauty
Of flowering shrub or seed,
If you live in a house of darkness,
Of selfishness and greed.

You cannot know the treasures
That loving thoughts can bear,
Or all the joy and happiness
That others long to share.
You cannot know the gifts of God,
That are sent from heaven above
Without the knowledge of Godliness,
For Godliness is love.

You cannot enjoy the harvest
Produced by sun and rain,
You can only know the misery
Of sickness and of pain.
For if your mind is a house like this,
Then pity is all for you
To live in a house of darkness
In a house without a view.

For the mind is like a dwelling place,
Where myriad thoughts abide,
The good ones and the bad ones
That congregate inside.
The angry thoughts, the spiteful thoughts,
The gentle and the kind.
Harbouring with spirit
In a residence called mind.

Edwin H. Whatmore

I will be away for three days so this is my last post for a while.


Wednesday, 27 May 2009

Suicide (continued)

Red Cloud continues:-

On the other hand, let us take a man, who with the body and mind in alignment, deliberately thinks he is going to dodge the result of his labours in your world; whether he knows it or not does not signify. All I can do is to ask you to pray for the man who deliberately commits suicide, because he becomes earthbound. Unable to go forward, he remains stationery, until he awakens to the truth of that commandment, “Thou shalt not kill.”

You cannot dodge the law. God cannot be mocked. Why not face up to it now? Why not be men and women and realise your possibilities? You find a suicide may come back to you and say, “It is alright over here. I am quite happy.” But wait until he awakens to the realisation that he has left undone something that he must again return to the earth world to rectify.

When a man comes to my world with his mind and body in alignment it is the worst form of suicide. It is worse for those who know spirit truths and deliberately enter my world through suicide. Once you awaken to the truth that sets you free, you do not require to be told these things because you will then work out your own salvation and realise that I am teaching you what you should have learned as little children.

Tuesday, 26 May 2009


Here is Red Cloud again, this time on the subject of suicide.

A man who commits suicide automatically puts into operation premature birth into the spirit world. He is born into the spirit realms out of due season. That is the first thing that I must touch upon so that you realise men and women must obey the Law.

If you force the spirit from the body before its due season, you automatically commit a breach of the Law; therefore you stay in vibrations near the earth world until the fullness of your birth takes place.

Some might ask, “Does that apply to all men and women?” Yes, in the same way as premature birth in your world applies. All men and women abide by and know this law, even as they understand that death comes to all. So you are governed firstly by that law. We must not however, accept that as covering all cases. Motive is taken into consideration in each case. The law of premature birth governs all but the events leading to the motive are taken into consideration…

There is one thing you must realise, every motive, every thought is registered, for everything you do is known to us. A man’s material body suddenly crashes, he has lost control and through suicide his astral body enters my world. It is a great shock to him to find that he is not dead and that he has, as you say, jumped out of the frying pan into the fire; into the fire of reality, for he now realises he has left undone those things he ought to have done.

No one taunts him, do not think that. It is the realisation that arises automatically within him-self. Such a man is given the benefit of any understanding gained through his ‘grey matter’ before it crashed and he is helped by the doctors in the rest homes here and taught. He gradually unfolds within himself the real kingdom of peace, wending his way along the pathway of life trough the heavens.

This is what happens to the man, who through the confusion of grey matter makes a mistake. Do not think that your motive is not known. Your motive is known only too well in my world.

This will be continued tomorrow.

Monday, 25 May 2009


Red Cloud was the Native American who spoke so beautifully through the British medium Estelle Roberts when she was in Trance. Here are some of his words on the subject of inspiration.

Sometimes as you gaze upon a little sickly child you yearn over it saying, “Oh Father, if only I had the power to help that small child I would give my all.” In such moments you touch inspiration. There are moments when, in listening perhaps to the song of a nightingale, as its notes peal forth, they awaken an answering chord in your memory. That memory is your real self; the note which is touched lies in your greater self which is always inspiring you.

Inspiration, to my understanding, means tuning in to the law of God, the sweet caress of heaven’s awakening within the breast. Inspiration is the food of the gods. By silent concentration you can fan the flame of inspiration within your own mental understanding. Then the food of the gods is yours, and in that gentle awakening you can understand the fuller realisation which no man can take from you. Whether your lot lies in misery, or even in purgatory, you can still fan that gentle flame which is in your mind.

Gaze upon the face of a flower and note its beauty. Inhale the perfume which rises gently to your nostrils. In that moment of silent admiration you reach God’s garden and your spiritual home. For home with God can only be in beauty, whatever way you seek it. Perhaps you will find it on a summer’s evening as you gaze across the sky, the sun setting in its beauteous colourings and the gentle moon rising. Your heart and soul with wonderment are filled with the beauty of God’s kingdom and its blessing. Thus you find inspiration, for you are awakening and sensing God.

Saturday, 23 May 2009


“I love you” trips lightly off the tongue,
And often stays that way.
Light and careless; superficial,
Romantic reflex; will not stay.

When love goes deep and swells the heart,
All thoughts of self drowned out.
Then one knows the true divine,
You are complete, no need to shout.

Within its depths the human soul,
Responds and opens wide,
Darkness becomes charged with light,
Two are united; no divide.

Certain music means so much more,
You write in verse and prose,
Life is vibrant, never more,
Your loving gift a deep red rose.

All is shared, with no conditions,
And yet for to survive,
Independence there must be
For both; to keep your love alive.

Share alone and share together,
That’s the way it ought to be,
For love uplifts and love inspires,
Such love will always make us free.

With love the world and we were born,
The love of God; let’s use it
To make the world a better place,
Let’s not waste it or abuse it.

© Lionel Owen 2009

Friday, 22 May 2009

Compos Mentis

Where would we be if we always
Thought, instead of drifting along
Taking the line of least resistance?
Hoping others would show persistence,
Instead of us.

Of all the gifts which God has given,
The mind should surely be most prized,
And yet it is least understood,
Most ignored for doing good
I wonder why?

The mind is so misunderstood, we
Foolishly believe it’s physical,
If only we could forget cant,
And even more defensive rant,
We’d understand.

We would learn the mind forms part,
Of man’s eternal spirit and
Because of this it has the power,
To create worlds, or hide a flower
Within a seed.

All physical things, both great and small,
Were but a thought inside a mind,
Until, like some mental magic wand
It moulded all at its command,
Creating form.

The power of concentrated thought,
When trained with love to focus,
Can build a world or just a house,
The human race, perhaps a mouse,
Or kangaroo.

The idea’s absurd so science says,
That mind and brain are independent.
Thus every study of the mind,
Looks at the brain but doesn’t find,
An explanation.

Such biased search is doomed to failure,
No swimming fish is found in air,
Nor flies under water any bird,
Mind in brain - just as absurd,
Look elsewhere.

If half the programmes science uses
Researching physics, space or medicine,
Were re-invented, redesigned,
To discover insubstantial mind,

We’d probably find in such research,
Answers earlier sought elsewhere,
Many ills would disappear and feeling grand,
We’d begin to understand,
Who we are.

© Lionel Owen 2009

Thursday, 21 May 2009

Man May Thwart

Here are the words of Silver Birch in reply to the question, “How do you see a new world being born?”. We can all take encouragement from his inspiring words.

“I see a plan, a divine plan. I see that the power of the spirit is the greatest power in the universe. Man may thwart and delay, man may impede and stay but man cannot forever prevent the power of the spirit being made to manifest. When you have the knowledge of spiritual truth, you have the key which unlocks all the doors of mankind’s problems. I am not being unkind to all the sincere reformers who, moved by anger, by righteous wrath, or by an overwhelming sympathy for the downtrodden and the weak, seek to repress wrong, to fight injustices, to enable all the bounties of the Great Spirit to be fairly distributed. They see only one part of a problem. They see physical needs that must be satisfied – perhaps they see mental needs that must be satisfied too – but pre-eminently man is a spirit, part of the Great Spirit, part of the power which fashioned all life. Man is not so infinitesimal that he is forgotten amidst the vast spaces of the universe. He is always part of the Great Spirit, contributing to the spiritual nature of Infinity.

You cannot stifle the power of the spirit; it must emerge. It will triumph over cruelty and hatred; it will triumph over bludgeons, concentration camps, dictators, because the spirit of man must be as free as the air which he breathes. That is his natural, divine, spiritual heritage. All those who have seen the vision splendid, and have beheld the new world that is to be, know that it must be, because it is part of that same purpose which breathed into man and raised him from animal to human – and will raise him again from human to divine. Your task is always to hand on the torch, rekindle its flame, so that the generation which comes after you will have a greater light to illuminate its pathway. The foundations have been laid. They were laid many years ago in our world. And gradually, painfully, laboriously, men and women of all denominations, and of none, were raised up to be witnesses to the eternal spirit, to labour for the quickening of the divine plan. The new world must come.”

Wednesday, 20 May 2009

The World Would be the Better for it

If men cared less for wealth and fame,
And less for battlefields and glory;
If writ in human hearts, a name
Seemed better than in song or story;
If men, instead of nursing pride,
Would learn to hate it and abhor it;
If more relied
On love to guide-
The world would be the better for it.

If men dealt less in stocks and lands,
And more in bonds and deeds fraternal;
If loves work had more willing hands,
To link this world with the supernal;
If men stored up love’s oil and wine,
And on bruised human hearts would pour it;
If “yours” and “mine”
Would once combine-
The world would be the better for it.

If more would act the play of Life,
And fewer spoil it in rehearsal;
If bigotry would sheath its knife
Till good became more universal;
If custom, grey with ages grown,
Had fewer blind men to adore it;
If talent shone
In truth alone-
The world would be the better for it.

If men were wise in little things,
Affecting less in all their dealings;
If hearts had fewer rusted strings,
To isolate their kindred feelings;
If men, when wrong beats down the right,
Would strike together to restore it;
If right made might
In every fight-
The world would be the better for it.

M.H. Cobb

Tuesday, 19 May 2009


Here is a small collection of thoughts on the subject of wisdom taken from three different sources.

Wisdom is to judge liberally, to think purely and to love your neighbour.
He who is willing to receive instruction from all sources gains wisdom
The Talmud

Happy is the man who finds wisdom and gets understanding, for their merchandise is better than silver and the gain from them more than fine gold.
Wisdom is more precious than rubies and all the things you can desire are not to be compared with her. Length of days is in her right hand and in her left hand riches and honour. Her ways are ways of pleasantness and all her paths are peace. Forsake her not and she will preserve you. Love her and she will keep you.
The Bible

Love is the life of man, wisdom is the light in which love sees.
E. Swedenborg

Monday, 18 May 2009

The Conduct of Life

The following piece is taken from the Brahmanic scriptures and despite it's ancient origins and its use of the masculine gender exclusively,(this was the way in those days ladies) there is much here I believe that can guide us on our road of physical, emotional and spiritual discovery.


Since the days that are past and gone and those that are yet to come, may not find you here on Earth, it behoves you to employ the present. The instant is yours, the next is in the womb of futurity and you do not know what it may produce.

Whatever you resolve to do, do it quickly; defer not till the evening what the morning may accomplish. Idleness is the parent of want and pain; but the labour of virtue produces pleasure. Endeavour to be the first in your calling, whatever it may be, neither let anyone go before you in doing good.

Envy not the merits of another but improve your own talents. Scorn to defeat your competitor by dishonest or unworthy means. Strive to raise yourself above him only by excelling him; so shall your battle for superiority be crowned with honour, if not success.

Hear the words of prudence, pay heed to her counsels and store them in your heart. Her maxims are universal and all virtues lean upon her; she is the guide and mistress of human life.

A noble spirit disdains the malice of fortune; his greatness of soul is not to be cast down. His happiness depends not upon her smiles; therefore with her frowns is he not dismayed. He meets the evils of life as a man goes into battle and returns with victory in his hand. His calmness and his courage alleviate the weight of his misfortunes; his constancy surmounts them.

Sunday, 17 May 2009


My dear friends,

I was called away unexpectedly on Thursday and was away from a computer until just a couple of hours ago. Please accept my apologies for the lack of posts during this time but I promise they will be back again tomorrow.

Vai com Deus (Go with God)


Thursday, 14 May 2009

The Teachings of Spiritualism

(From the British Lyceum Manual)

These teachings were dictated from Spirit through the trance mediumship of Emma Hardinge-Britten

Spiritualism proves humanity’s immortality and the existence of a spiritual universe.

It destroys all fear of death, annihilates the doctrine of eternal punishment and substitutes the positive assurance of eternal progress.

It sweeps away the idea of a personal devil and locates the sources of evil in humanity’s own imperfections.

It denies the immoral and mind-corrupting doctrine of the vicarious atonement for sin and on the testimony of millions of immortal spirits, solemnly affirms that every guilty soul must arise and become its own Saviour.

It ignores the degrading conception of a partial and vindictive God and substitutes the worship of an infinite, eternal and all perfect Spirit, an Alpha and Omega, all love, Wisdom and Law.

It demolishes the absurd and materialistic conception of the theological Heaven and Hell; making each a state of happiness or misery dependant upon the good or evil within the soul itself.

It is the death blow to superstition, sectarianism and religious persecution but the friend and promoter of all reforms that tend to elevate and benefit humanity.

Whist Spiritualism proclaims that there is a standard of truth in everything, it acknowledges man’s incapacity to discover all truth and therefore it fetters no-one’s opinions and teaches but never enforces its beliefs on anyone.

Concerning all spiritual life, state and being, Spiritualism accepts no theories that are not sustained by proven facts and corroborative testimony.

Its phenomena – all being based upon immutable principles of law – opens up endless avenues of new research for science and its consensus of revelations, being founded upon facts, tends to place true religion on the basis of science and vitalises science with all that is true and practical in religion.

Spiritualism is a ceaseless incentive to practice good; it reunites the friends separated by death; strengthens the weak and desolate by the presence of Angel guidance and protection; cheers the afflicted with the certainty of another and better world, where justice will be done and every wrong will be righted.

Spiritualists have no creed but mostly unite in affirming the following simple principles:-

The Fatherhood of God.
The Brotherhood of Man.
The Immortality of the Soul and its personal characteristics.
The proven facts of Communion between departed Human Spirits and mortals
Personal Responsibility.
Compensation and Retribution hereafter for all good and evil deeds done on earth.
Eternal progress open to every Human Soul.

Wednesday, 13 May 2009


Dogs are often described as Man's best friend. General was a Bassett Hound who years ago was my best friend. Here is my small tribute to him.


I had a noble Bassett Hound,
Full of fun from Spring to Fall,
We had to call him General,
For he looked like Charles De Gaulle!

He had us in hysterics,
When he was just a pup.
He was always tripping on his ears,
He just could not stand up.

Later on he grew so big and long,
Had legs shaped like a bow,
His paws were large as cooking pots,
And his ears hung down so low.

His bark was deep and powerful,
Kept n’e’r-do-wells at bay,
His eyes were rich brown, liquid pools,
That took all your sense away.

I remember climbing up Helvellyn,
England’s tallest peak,
And though his paws were sore and bled,
General didn’t even squeak.

Many thought him comical,
And laughed at his strange ways,
But his heart was big and loving,
Him too much I cannot praise.

At last his great big, loving heart
Could no longer take the strain.
And he went to doggie heaven.
There’ll be none like him for me again.

I feel his big, brown, soulful eyes,
Looking down from up above.
And I know that when my moment comes
He’ll be there with all his love.

Lionel Owen 2009


Tuesday, 12 May 2009

What I Live For

Here is a poem that has been a favourite of mine since childhood. I hope you like it.


What I Live For

I live for those who love me,
Whose hearts are kind and true,
For the heaven that smiles above me,
And awaits my coming too,
For all human ties that bind me,
For the task by God assigned me,
For the bright hopes yet to find me,
And the good that I can do.

I live to learn their story,
Who suffered for my sake,
To emulate their glory,
And follow in their wake.
Bards, patriots, martyrs, sages,
The heroics of all ages,
Whose deeds crowd history’s pages,
And time’s great volume make.

I live to hold communion,
With all that is divine,
To feel there is a union,
Twixt nature’s heart and mine.
To profit by affliction,
Sow truths from fields of fiction,
Grow wiser by conviction,
And fulfil God’s grand design.

I live to hail that season,
By prophet bards foretold,
When man shall live by reason,
And not alone by gold,
When man to man united,
And every wrong thing righted,
The whole world shall be lighted,
As Eden was of old.

I live for those who love me,
For those who know me true true,
For the heaven that smiles above me,
And awaits my spirit too.
For the cause that lacks assistance,
For the wrong that lacks resistance
For the future in the distance,
And the good that I can do

George Linnaeus Banks

Monday, 11 May 2009


Gaufron is the village where as a boy, I spent the war years as an evacuee. I felt it was time to put into words what that place and its people meant to me.


I often think of Gaufron,
Happy hamlet in Wales afar,
Where as a boy I wandered,
Through the barren years of war.

I remember well my playmates,
Barry, Doug and Teddy,
We were doctors on the battlefield,
With steth’scopes at the ready.

To win the war we planned and schemed,
We didn’t like the Hun.
We thought him quite beyond the pale,
That’s why we always won!

My mind’s eye sees across the vale,
Moel Hywel, green and round,
Redolent with memories,
Of the inner peace I found

From sirens bombs and land mines,
Fear that never seemed to cease.
The green hills and the kindness,
Bathed my troubled mind with peace.

The gentle ewes and ‘tiddlings’,
The shearing; making hay,
The stuckles and the hay cocks,
Feeding chickens every day.

Games I played while all alone,
With Roman soldiers in the hills.
Dreams I shared with phantoms,
Ah nostalgia! How it thrills.

Seeing my first lamb born,
Then hearing its first bleat,
I was nearer here the source of life,
Than in any city street.

I remember Percy Mytton,
Bessie Mills and ‘Poll the Shop’,
The Swiss Rolls and the sponge cakes
With the sugar on the top.

In the Spring we’d search for birds nests,
Eggs from Curlew, Hawk and Crow,
We’d find them in the treetops,
Or in long grass below.

Idle in Summer’s lazy heat,
With insects buzzing round,
We’d talk or sometimes take a swim,
Then sleep upon the ground.

In autumn we went nutting,
Picked ‘brown shealers’ by the score,
Helped ladies picking blackberries,
To make jelly for the store.

In Winter after snow storms,
First the sheep would need our care,
We’d dig them free then follow tracks
Of Rabbit, Fox and Hare.

Oh my, I was so lucky,
Is it right or even fair
That the same war brought me happiness,
That to others brought despair?

As I sit here with my memories,
And think how changed things are,
With no gadgets, TV, Laptops,
We were happier then by far.

I thank the great Almighty,
For letting me be born,
In wartime with its sacrifice,
When all of pride were shorn.

© Lionel Owen 2009


Sunday, 10 May 2009


Today is Mothers Day in Brasil and I though I should mark to occasion with a poem.

Have a blessed Sunday,


(Thoughts on Mothers Day 10 May 2009)

Our mothers are a special breed,
They love us through and through.
Their first thought every time they wake
Is not themselves but me and you.

They love us when we’re happy,
They love us when we’re sad,
They love us most of all I think,
Whenever we’ve been bad.

They love not in the romantic way,
But deep, without condition,
They hurt whenever we get hurt,
Feel our joy and our contrition.

From the time we’re born they foster us,
And teach us right from wrong.
To know the race that we call life,
Goes not always to the strong.

Because they’ve always been there,
It’s as though we are enchanted,
We don’t appreciate all they do,
And take their love for granted.

They don’t ask much of me and you,
They worry that they’ll fail us,
They try so hard to keep us safe,
Assume blame when doubts assail us.

So when just on one day a year,
We’re asked to honour mother,
Make sure you spoil her, make her smile,
For she is like no other.

©Lionel Owen 2009

Saturday, 9 May 2009


Another of my poems. I hope it makes you think.


Hoping, wishing, longing, yearning.
Always wanting something new,
First to be older I was burning,
Thinking age would bring me through
The fears of youthful angst.

Next were the pains of adolescence,
The source of wanting change.
Hormones racing; all my essence
Seemed in ferment ‘cross the range.
Will I ever be loved for me?

The tests it seemed would never end,
My tongue was tied when girls appeared.
My parents seemed my will to bend,
Awkward was I and gauche. I feared
I’d always be alone.

One day with finals passed and done,
Came the answer to my prayer.
Tall, slender, dark and full of fun,
She smiled as I caressed her hair,
“Oh yes I’ll be your wife.”

My world was suddenly alight,
No obstacle could daunt me now.
Imagination took a flight,
No worried frown e’er crossed my brow.
This was love and power.

Work came easy, promotion quick,
Yet I wasn’t satisfied.
Patience urged just made me sick,
Then my love took ill and died.
Killing my urge to win

Prostrate, filled with bitter grief,
I turned away from light and life.
I felt that God was like a thief,
Who bore away my lovely wife.
In depth I hated Him.

I sold the house and moved away,
Thinking thus to start anew.
Where she’d been I could not stay,
The pain of loss just grew and grew.
I know I was a fool.

Running away is never wise,
You do not lose what’s kept inside.
The former you will not arise,
While negatives in you abide.
Help! Where do I turn?

I was desperate, lonely, sad,
I truly plumbed the deep.
I had no hope to make me glad,
No spark or fire – I couldn’t weep.
Then I a saw the light.

It came as I was lying still,
A bright celestial fire,
Brilliant, pure, it seemed to fill
My soul and lift it higher.
Inside I saw her face.

She smiled and said “I’m here my love,”
Don’t be so sad and miss me,
I’m always there, just up above,
And in your dreams you’ll kiss me.
I did not understand.

“I still live on and love you more
Than when I was on Earth.
When you’re not sad then we can soar
And together feel rebirth.
I think I understand.

We talked and laughed; we had such fun,
After saying, “I love you so,”
She said, “This please think upon,
I died when t’was time to go.”
It’s clearer now I think.

“We are eternal, no-one dies,
Believe it, I show it’s true.
Materialism’s misleading lies,
The Spirit is driving you.”
Now I understand.

She told me I must work with love,
And never for money alone,
Then would I be blessed above,
Nor ever be left alone.
That is sound advice.

To know that we can never die,
Is comfort beyond belief.
To realise that you and I
Are eternal, banishes grief.
Truth will set you free.

Now I yearn to teach my brothers,
In town, in city, in gaol,
Forget the self, love all the others.
It’s not easy we often fail.
That’s the way we grow.

Again my driving force is love,
But not love of self anymore.
The power I feel comes from above,
It follows natural law
And opens up my soul.

Friends when you feel that you have lost,
You’re frequently the winner.
Take heart, He never counts the cost,
To Him, you are no sinner.
It tells me God is love.

If we always try to serve aright,
Our sister and our brother,
We will find that love is light,
That wisdom will uncover
All life’s simplicity.

The selfless love which feels so right,
To wisdom pays its fees.
Whilst love is surely purest light,
It’s by wisdom that it sees.
It shows me love is blind.

© Lionel Owen 2009

Friday, 8 May 2009

The End of the Week

Thank God it’s Friday! This is the, not always jokingly meant, refrain heard all across the western world. What does it imply?

Clearly many people do not have jobs that bring them much, if any, satisfaction and large numbers of people through no fault of their own, are working only because they need money to enable them and their families to live. Can anything be done to change this heartfelt outpouring of relief every Friday?

I think the first thing we all can do is to do what my father always urged, “make the best of a bad job.” This means accepting that even though one’s job may be boring, even ‘mind destroying’ in its boredom and repetitiveness, it is possible to make it more bearable. You are working because you need the money, right? The job is mindless, requires little or no skill or concentration. You are making one part of hundreds or thousands that go into making whatever the finished product is but you never see that finished product. However, you know what it is; you know how it will be used. Will people enjoy using it? Will it bring them pleasure? Will it help someone become well perhaps? Is it going to help someone else produce something important to us all? Then think what the effect would be if the finished article doesn’t work because your piece of it is shoddily or carelessly made. OK, the machine you operate takes care of that. Why are you there then? There must be at least a chance that the machine won’t always ‘take care of that’. So, in return for the money with which this boring, repetitive job provides you, you need to realise YOU ARE IMPORTANT. Without your presence, the whole enterprise could grind to a halt because no-one was there to notice when a machine failed to ‘take care of that’.

Most jobs involve working with and for others and people are the most fascinating of God’s creations. If you don’t like your job, try liking the people. Try to learn what makes each one ‘tick’, without prying or becoming a busybody and above all, without judging. Try to find out when they are feeling down and cheer them up. Surprise them with small acts of compassion and consideration. Find out when they are happy or have had a piece of good luck and share their happiness – show them you care. Try also to remember the things you are planning to do with the money you will earn; all those plans you are making for the future.

You may work in a shop or restaurant and there are times when there are few customers and others when it’s so busy you can hardly cope. Be interested in your customers. Put yourself in their shoes. What do you hope to find in a shop or a restaurant when you are a customer? Try to ensure that your customers will never find your establishment lacking. Use those slack times to provide those little extra personal touches that make all the difference to a customer. Don’t wait to be told by your manager. Try harder to be patient when times are busy and some customers are inconsiderate. After all, you don’t know the reason they are like that. Take time to learn more about what you are selling or providing for the customer. BE INTERESTED!

A boring job is usually only that because you allow it to be so. You are in a situation where whatever the job is, it is your only source of income. If you try, in all ways, to become more involved, more interested, then the job becomes much more satisfying. I do not pretend that my suggestions are all encompassing and you may rightly feel, they cannot be applied in your case. What I hope I am doing is to make you think.

Whilst thinking, what about the role of God in your job? “Now he goes too far,” I hear you say. Not at all, most people feel that ‘serving God’ is something only a Priest or a Minister does. Were this the case then God would only play a part in our lives when we were involved in some activity to do with church – and some of us never go to church anyway. I believe, with good reason, that we are part of God and He is part of us. It follows that everything we do involves God. Have you ever looked at things from that point of view? We are all God’s children and EVERYTHING we do is part of serving God. Try thinking about your job in this way and then take the next step. If I am serving God should I not be doing the best I can? Are you? Only you can answer that question. What I am suggesting is, if you try to ensure you are doing your very best work because you are serving your God then it will transform your attitude to your job. The time will pass more quickly, you will feel less tired and irritable at the end of the day and not only you but everyone around you will benefit.

I close by leaving you with this thought:

Who does the best his circumstance allows; does well, acts nobly; Angels could do no more.

Have a wonderful weekend.


Thursday, 7 May 2009

Peace of Mind

We search and search, but seldom find,
That cherished thing called peace of mind.
We rush and tear throughout the day,
Only to find it's gone away.
How can we woo it back again
And try its solace to retain?

Let's look upon God's garden fair,
And tend its wants and breathe its air
Of beauty, colour, wind and rain,
We will not have to search in vain,
We will not have to search to find
That cherished thing called peace of mind.

Let's give to those who are sad a drear
A helping hand, some thoughts of cheer,
Let's lead the blind, support the weak,
And think each time before we speak,
Lest we should seemingly, unkind,
Destroy another's peace of mind.

Let's raise our voices, loud and clear
In praise and thanks for all to hear,
For chances given every day,
To brighten someone's gloomy day,
The more you give, the less you'll find
You will have to search for peace of mind.

Kathleen Holmes

Tuesday, 5 May 2009


This poem was written by a friend of mine in England. I hope you enjoy it.


Have you ever sat upon a hill
And looked up at the clouds?
Have you ever looked out from a window
Upon the milling crowds?
Have ever looked up at the birds
Circling in the sky?
Or seen the rainbow after rain?
Have you ever wondered why?

Have you ever watched a blackbird
In the building of its nest
And thought about the instinct
With which all birds are blessed?
Have you ever seen in springtime
The buds upon the trees?
So many different kinds of buds,
So many different trees.

Have you ever walked in a garden
In the evening air
And caught the scent of flowers
And seen the colour everywhere?
Have you thought about the seasons
That give us all our pleasures?
This is nature at her best,
When showing off her treasures.

Have you ever thought about yourself,
Or do you ever care
To think about this wondrous world
And all the things to share?
The beauty of the landscape,
Nature's work of art,
An all-pervading energy
Of which we are a part.

Have you looked up at the moon
Upon a winter's night
And seen the stars a-twinkling
With universal might?
Like a sequined canopy
Across a darkened sky
Without ending or beginning.
Have you ever wondered why?

It's time you stopped your wondering
And came to a conclusion,
These things are not derived
From chaos or confusion.
The sky is of an Order
Of lands as yet untrod,
Brought together in unison
By the mastery of God.

Edwin H. Whatmore

Monday, 4 May 2009

The Philosophy of an Elizabethan Communicator

Patience Worth, a spirit who claimed she was from the sixteenth century, communicated using automatic writing, through the mediumship of Mrs Pearl Curran, dictated several full length novels that were best sellers at the time. Here is a short piece in which Patience explains her beliefs:

There is a God.

He is our Father, and His other name is Love.

He knows his children, their feelings, their weaknesses, their errors – and He understands.

He sympathises with their pain and sorrow, and He whispers consolation if they would but hear.

He would tell them the trials of life are the building of the soul; that earth is but a starting place for eternity and its troubles and its difficulties are essential to the soul’s foundation.

He would tell them that the building may not be finished here but goes on and on, until it is fully complete, and always His love streams o’er it.

He would tell them that He condemns not, but ever seeks to lift. He may grieve at their transgressions and anger at their perversity, but it is the grief and anger of love.

He would tell them that He destroys not His children, but preserves them for an immortality which must be won, but which all can win and shall win.
He would tell them that He is ever with them, that He never forsakes and never will forsake them, in this world or the next.

He would tell them that He would not be feared, but loved; for in the exercise of love – love for Him, love for His own, His children, is the soul built to its fullness.

He would tell them: Wait! Be patient! It shall be.

Sunday, 3 May 2009

Sunday is a Day of Rest

This is a poem that I was inspired to write today - Sunday. Enjoy! - Lionel

The Day of Rest

Sunday is a day of rest,
Some go pray and thus feel blessed.
Remember though that adage old,
As good as rest, is change we’re told.

Seek change if it is rest you need,
Somewhere new, your soul will feed.
If in town you spend your days,
Go to the country; feel and praise.

If you cannot leave your home,
In the country fair to roam,
Look inside yourself; be still,
There’s soul’s nectar – drink your fill.

Wise the psalmist when he wrote,
For folks of old, and here I quote,
Don’t just toil upon Earth’s sod,
“Be still and know that I am God.”

Seek the truth and when you find it,
Test within, the love behind it.
Love vibrates with heart and soul
And helps the spirit reach its goal.

Stretch your spirit if you’d be strong,
Leave habit; comfort; It’s not wrong.
Try what you feel you cannot do,
Then inner strength will surge in you.

Your spirit does not fear the worst,
It taps the power that from the first,
Made us immortal; sister; brother,
God links us all to one another.

East or West or North or South,
Despite the language from your mouth,
Buddha, Islam, Christ or mission,
His love is ours without condition.

Every road will take us where,
The love of God our homes prepare,
In spirit realms so fair and bright
We all will dwell: No need to fight.

Some get there quick and others slow,
Why’s that and is it always so?
The quick ones help their worldwide kin,
The slow, too much of self let in.

The quick judge not for this they know,
We always reap whate’er we sow.
They know all err, that’s how we learn,
Are patient, kind and wait their turn.

The slow find patience hard to bear,
They want to change the world and tear
Apart and start anew,
To give them more than me and you.

Please understand and be content,
With all that God on you has spent.
You are His child, He loves you so,
Give him your hand and onward go.

The light within your soul is clear,
Cover it not with doubt or fear,
Or selfish thoughts, or hate, or strife,
Your light is love and love is life.

© Lionel Owen 2009

Saturday, 2 May 2009

The Mystery

One day, during my meditation, I underwent a most unusual experience:-

The colours were amazing! Purple, pale-blue and yellow.
They hung like a cloud all around me – I was aware of nothing but colour.
No form, no shape, no edges, no delineation whatsoever.

I should have been completely disoriented because there was nothing familiar or re-assuring in this scene. On the contrary, I was strangely comforted and at peace with myself, somehow I KNEW this was right, this was how it was meant to be. In the colours I knew I was at home, that here in this amorphous, multi-coloured cloud was everything I would ever need.

I knew this was the moment for which my spirit had ached since time forgotten.

Somehow I knew I was on the threshold of some immense discovery, as though this moment would be the culmination of my earthly purpose. Moment did I say? Although it was in reality only a moment it seemed to last an eternity. I was lost in this eternal moment – the moment in which I knew I was really going to find it: I was going to find that point of unison that blends the seen and unseen universes. The point I had searched long years and unsuccessfully for in the outer world.

Expecting a blinding flash of revelation as with Paul on the road to Damascus, I was disappointed. No blinding flash, just unutterable peace and tranquility, with the certainty that in this formless world of colour was all I needed to know. All I had to do was surrender, lose myself in the cloud and everything would be revealed. I had no doubts, no fears; no thoughts at all! It was as though I was all existence and no existence simultaneously. My brain; my heart; my soul; were all one with everything there is. I knew that separation is an illusion.

Humanity seeks to impose divisions. Seeking to understand the mystery of life, it compartmentalizes the natural world, examines each compartment in minute detail, not moving to the next until this one reveals all it can. Thinking in this way to comprehend the mystery. Now, in this transcendental moment, I understood that the only way to even begin understanding the mystery was to become totally unaware of myself and surrender to the immensity and majesty of the whole.

The mystery of life is beyond the finite, yet reaching the heart of it is so simple. Why oh why must we complicate everything? Surrender conscious thought, allow your brain, heart and soul to become one; don’t think, just FEEL. In the companionable emptiness of your inner peace: There will you find the answer to life’s mystery.

© Lionel Owen