Humans can bear so little of the Truth

‘Be, be who you are, sing it out!’ tweeted the little bird, warbling its sweet song, ‘For we are all nearly dead.’

That is what caught my attention.

‘ Enjoy,’ it sang on, ‘of life, of being alive, of enjoying life as it comes.’

It comes along, this that I wasn’t expecting, couldn’t have imagine. It came along and I had to learn to accept. That was the rub. Though I could try not to, could grumble, could crumble into tears, could shout loudly for it to go away, could even fall to the hard ground, cutting my knees and plead, plead to the skies. But no – this, this thing called life will not go away.

‘But I have imagined it so differently,’ I moan to the little bird, shitting from above on high. I imagined myself so long ago into this life. It was not this and it was controlled, easy. It was after the ‘and they lived happily ever after’, that was where I was heading to. I am the story, but I yearn for after the end.

‘But how can you be so naïve you humans?’ asked my feathered friend, ‘How can you be so blind to the Truth?’

The Truth of What?

‘Of happening, of arising, of passing away? Humankind can bear so little…’

I imagine a life, an age, a year, a season, a month, a week, a day, a second, a billionth of a second, 13 billionths of a second, an exploding universe, an imploding star.

‘Life is what Life is!’ tweeted the little bird, ‘Not what you imagine it to be,’ and then flew away.

Letting go

Shoulder to shoulder
in the field of straw
in the middle of the rain
I burn the wrist band
– our funny little symbol
that you laughed I should
carry around as
a romantic memory
of our first ever argument:
each of us hovering
on opposite sides
of different needs
as loud flashing lights
of an electrifying concert
blur our vision.

I remember wanting to control;
I remember feeling controlled.
I remember back now and laugh
– how absurd it all seems
to want to control love,
how it would have turned out
so much easier
if I had only been
strong enough
to trust.

And yet here I am
ME holding this little wrist band
ME lighting it
in an idea I have had.

You watch me
as I hold ceremony
and then scream
– not hysterical
more a muffled shock –
as the toxic band
spits onto my finger
and sticks as it burns.

‘I’ll take over…’
you say gently
and through the pain
I agree
and realise
this is not just me
and my own toxicity
but us, and you and yours
and this growing thing
between us
that we want
to be healthy and strong.

When the toxic band
gets too small
for fingers and fire
you drop it to the grass
where in the middle of the
wind and rain
I worry it will not all burn
and we will be doomed forever

and yet,
despite the downpour,
it burns on
and on
and on…

We stand amazed,
two little flames now
on each side
burning through
what is no longer needed,
until nothing is left –
at all…


And I realise
in that deep stillness
of the aftermath
I could have dropped it all
a long time ago
without anything
getting in the way
like arguments
and burnt fingers
or residual pain.

Last night with you:

Eventually we got the fire warm
and in the blaze
you lay back
on the most comfortable bench
in the caravan
as if it were a billowing magical divan
and turned on your ears.
I felt you do so
and it gave me courage
– cor –
it gave me heart
– cor –
isn’t that also god?
to carry on
and describe my scenes to you
sweet hearted godlike you
with eyes that hold currents
that want to swim out in your love to me
– if only I will let you –
my barbaric life guard still on day duty
as the last flickers of the outside flame
sink beneath us
and yet even he,
trained to protect,
dropped his guard
and let me jump in
– dive even –
into the depths of me
and bring out for you
a few of the diamonds I keep down there
– treasuring –
for you to see
and even, if this flowing
from fathoms below
I can paint in words well enough
to feel
to be moved by
to ride with me on e-motions.
‘Are you still listening?’
I ask, landing for a pit-stop.
Sometimes your eyes are closed
as if dozing
yet you nod
‘Yes,’ soft warms tones by the hearth
‘it’s fascinating,’
and I believe him
and marvel
wondering where he is taking this,
what he does when this that is mine
becomes his.

Out of infinite possibilities

Don’t you think
it is amazing
that there is a whole entire world
full of everything you can imagine
and more than you can’t

waterfalls, cages for gas cylinders in late night petrol stations, raves with hundreds and thousands of hands moving in the light spectrumed air, sun shining through dense tropical leaves seen by no human, murky brown rivers, cake shops with old ladies who don’t take off their hats, early morning bakery workers covered in a fine white dust, casinos full of one-armed bandit addicts, school buses full of young worlds opening, thousands of couples right now saying ‘I do’ in churches and mosques and temples and beaches, a hospital ward and a person racked with sobs holding onto a still warm dead hand, a new girlfriend daring a new recipe off the internet, the scream of a baby girl coming into the world, a difficult decision between two almost identical products, millions of phones bleeping right now across the globe,

and you and me here

right here, breathing into the same space
with no-one else around

and these thin walls
flickering out of
candle shadows

in this caravan
in a forgotten field
listening to the current
chorusing down a riverbed.

just you and me
while the rest of the world moves on

you and me and the soft silence that furs the air
then a crinkle of the chocolate gluten free cake
its wrapping crunching as your knife searches
for a not so small a slither to slice
and your voice saying
‘How I’d like a whisky now!’
and me saying reminescently
‘It’s because the cake is so sweet,’
and you look at me and repeat,
‘Como me gustaria un whisky.’

you and me
here in this laboratory of two
with only this one time
and this one place.

don’t you think that’s magical?
don’t you think that’s a miracle?

Buy the Original


With all the original juicy bits, this Original version with the Purple Cover will titilate your mind, touch your heart and move your body. Not a book to be told what to do, but a book to allow to settle in like dew on morning grass. Allow yourself to reach your own conclusions, your own ideas, allow yourself to slip away into who you really are.

Shiva’s Lightsaber Blog

Fabi preparing a delicious lunch in not so delicious ambiance

After crafting word weaving for 10 years, do you want a taste of some of the favourite posts on Shiva’s Lightsaber blog?

Here’s a whole range of musings wondering through the fascinating forests of depth psychology, symbology, myths and what was goes on in our lives sometimes without us even noticing.

Get a bash at Honeymoon: Ready for any Eventuality a blog written in the first days of a new relationship where nothing could have been worse, that is on the outside and yet while lying on a slightly damp, slightly smelly bed as rainwater flows down the inside walls (an ‘attractive water feature’), through bugs and mosquitos and toilets that don’t work, living month to month on the little that we had, we realised that it could not, by any stretch of the imagination, be that we were together for glamour, fame or fortune – but because we wanted to be. Else there was no way we’d ever have stuck it out!

Another faves are: Being Oneself in a Relationship, Arising and Passing Away , Tricking the Mind out of the Negative and When he drives you Mad: Narcissitic Personality Disorder.

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Shiva’s Lightsaber Blog




Shiva’s Lightsaber celebrates 10 years of being in existence! Words weaving in and out of deep themes, light themes, silly themes. Myths, depth psychology, and just what has been happening to me in my life.

As the blog page’s blurb says: In the interplay of shadows and light it´s not what you look at, but what you see.

As for the name Shiva – one of the Supreme Beings of Hinduism the creator and destroyer of all things – uses his sharp sword to cut through the crap and penetrate into what is real. I like the merge with the Luke Skywalker and his lightsaber: I think it brings the idea of the sword of reality (occidentally) home. “Saber” in Spanish is ‘to know’ and also ‘to taste’ or ‘to savour’. A ‘sabio’ is a wise one who savours the Truth.

Light needs dark matter to discover itself by contrasting in the empty mirror.