Stop trying…

Social media, blogs, podcasts… I show willing, but life, work and an ‘intellectually’ promiscuous personality seems to prevent me from fulfilling the quota of posts, articles and recording sessions I have set as my ‘adequate’ threshold.

Am I a failure? I think not… While not meeting the above targets, I have endured remarkable events in life, developed great things in business and learned a huge amount of new knowledge and skill. And all this is potential for new posts, articles and recordings.

All I have to do now, it put fingers to keys… turn on the microphone… and stop trying.

Stop Trying

Valves open and close fast as life essence pounds around my body,

A dozen cognitive fireworks ignite inside my effervescent skull,

If I could distort time I could choose any one of these ideas and have the temporal currency to run with them, 

But time seems to distort in the wrong direction… Hours to minutes, minutes to seconds.

I look at the clock… 21:00…. Do I have a ‘spare’ hour? Maybe I can paint? Maybe play my guitar?

No! Of course not… I chuckle and look at my keyboard.

The well worn keys could do with a clean, but how to do that while typing?

A glare of disapproval shoots from across the room… I hold a single finger up, knowing that she knows I don’t have enough fingers to scope the time allocation requirements.

It’s Monday evening… Maybe tomorrow I’ll do ‘that’… 

[cue Friday and ‘that’ is still not done]

For all you industrious, creative, ideas people out there! 👍

Standing room only…


Standing room only, another first world problem,

Almost two hours of dense stagnant air,

As I breath in the exhausts of my fellow travellers,

I shift from ball to heel, hip to hip.

The sticky striped surface formally known as ‘carpet’, 

Combines forces with gravity until many subdue,

Not me… No way.

I spotted that papier-mâché slurry being dragged from the WC with every return of it’s desperate visitor.

I while away the time glancing between my phone, the windows and the people,

Flat-affect faces entranced by the rhythmic sway,

Eyes drooping relative to the temperature of the carriage,

Many concede, heads bouncing downward as they dream of their destination’s comforts.

Outside I watch the sunset, that timeless beauty,

As the pastures, trees and hills paint blurred lines on my mind,

The burning sky reminds me… 

This is the moment, this is always the moment…

I take a deep breath of dense air… 

I watch a young child asleep in her mothers arms…

I catch the eye of the old gentleman in the flat-cap leaning on his stick,

I smile… He smiles…

The sun sets. 

Pace of Life


I have, as I’m sure we all have, been through a turbulent period of life that threw me off whatever path I’m currently walking. Another disconnect from what, in my mind, is important… Family, friendship, truth of self, presence of place and creativity. 

With that in mind I’ve decided to post regularly again… I’m not sure if my prose/poetic capacity will be up to the challenge but I’m attempting it nonetheless.

So with that in mind, here’s a poem as a tribute to this morning… 

Hail and blessings to you and yours!

Productive Times

Rising to the electronic dawn chorus,

Gravity tugs downward on my vertebrae as I stand,

Careful, purposeful and tentative foot placement,

I slink quietly down the staircase,

Listening to the silence of the darkness,

5am revealing a certain tune to me,

It’s silent melody exudes potential and creativity,

It affords me space… Far from the schedule of the “day”,

The soloing ticking clock, keeps me mindful of each passing second,

Moment… By moment.., 

With a hot cup of tea…the first, the best,

I sit at the keyboard… Smiling.

The Tree

© Copyright Colin Kinnear and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

© Copyright Colin Kinnear and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

Dreams often link us to the deepest insights of our own minds and for me they are an inspirational muse. The imagery they leave in my mind on awakening sometimes stirring deep spiritual longings, connections and relationships with the Gods, Wights and Ancestors.  Are they a call…? A message…? A shout in my direction…?

Here is one such example of an imprint made on my mind last evening…

The Tree

The rasping call of a raven cuts through the misty air,
A sodden foot purposefully steps in front of a sodden foot,
Wet crystal droplets float in the air and cling to his face and plaited beard,
Looking up with a single eye, he breaths deep as the branches of a great tree appear through the fog.

Leaves rustle and bark creaks knowingly against bark on his approach,
A light seems to flash in his eye as he looks upward,
No sign of an end to the tree’s height,
It’s form disappearing into the grey expanse.

Holding a spear in one hand, he bends,
Placing his hand flat on the ground at the base of the colossal trunk,
A deep thud penetrates the air, the mist curling outward from the trees,
A deep vibrating hum emanates from below as roots respond to his touch.

Voices from below,
Voices from above,
Voices from within, without and around,
His voice, speaking to himself and sending a message through the tree,
Their voices from every inch of trunk, branch, leaf and root join in the words,
We listen, we learn, we do, we are…

Poem for my son…



I find this hard to write/post but poetic expression is an outlet I feel helps me and my family through tough times.

As I type our one week old son is recovering in intensive care after heart surgery yesterday. We feel for any parent that has to endure the emotional roller coaster of having a child born with congenital heart disease. We’re so grateful for the ongoing support and expertise at Gt Ormond Street children’s hospital in London and can’t wait to cuddle our son once he’s recovered:

We’re here my boy…

Summer sunshine streams through the trees outside. You lay, unmoving, calm… 

A tray clatters and an alarm rings. You lay, unmoving, calm…

A host of intellectual minds chatter around you. You lay, unmoving, calm…
We watch and listen to you breath, 
Noticing even the tiniest movements,
Delicate hairs of your arms twitch like blades of grass blowing gentle in a summer breeze.
The bond between us strong, without saying a word,
The love between us forever, without the words being heard,
I see deep into your soul and pour mine into yours, although your eyes remain closed.
We’re all waiting for you, our amazing baby boy, arms wide… May the Gods speed you to us… X

How Spiritual or Religious are you?


I’m back… Finally… I hope you’re well?

I’ll let the podcast speak for itself but essentially, this is me pondering over the most common of questions and the subsequent follow up questions when meeting new people in the Pagan or Heathen community. I’d love to hear your views and experiences on this area… Wesath ge hale, gehwa!

The intro/outro music is:
Dragon Breath (Short and Full versions) by Densle, from Elatheria album

Podcast Ep1 – Havamal Part 1 – Stanzas 1-80

In this first podcast episode I begin reading the Havamal, the second poem featured in the Poetic Edda. Stanzas 1-80 are read from Bellow’s translation from the original Icelandic, this section is known as the Havamal proper and contains some if the most well known stanzas of the poem. In future episodes I’ll continue with the other sections of the Havamal from stanza 81 onwards. Happy listening…

Background Music: Butterfly Tea – “Age of Conquest”

Early Flight

Another day, another airport…

I’m both lucky enough and at the same time unlucky enough to travel a great deal in my professional life. Whilst this does give me a great chance of broadening my world view and meeting a diverse range of people it does take me away from those I love, sometimes for extensive periods of time. I’m not alone in this situation and I’m sure some of you reading now can identify with me.

But I thank the Gods for each and every experience, regardless of the meaning we attach to those experiences, for we can always learn and grow from them. My time in transit is often spent observing… Myself, others, the environment around me and the dynamics of how we all interact…

Blessing on your own travels and maybe our souls will pass each other someday /|\

Early Flight

I breath… My chest expanding as the cool air rushes in,
Looking to the stars I count my blessings,
Under the speckled inky blanket I am safe,
Watched over by the Father, Mother and Kin.

Travelling once more, away from my homeland and family,
I miss the embrace of loved ones,
But I accept the embrace of new experiences,
Connections and friendships further afield.

The early morning darkness and the accompanying silence,
Seem to permeate my body and my mind,
A catalyst for a stillness rarely known by most,
In a manic word of perpetual distracting stimuli.

Moving inside, saccadic eyes everywhere,
Lead bags to be checked with automaton scripts,
A stone chiselled face shifts into beaming grin,
As I place my bag with a heart felt smile.

The quiet times are a chance to watch,
Sit back and notice the animated corpses,
With their occasional caffeine fuelled glances,
In the direction of the lounge info screen.

Eventually the gate opens.
The herds shuffle accordingly,
I smile again… Preparing for more adventures…

Sometimes, only tea will do…

In general, life is rather wonderful… Both the mundane and the magical world constantly surprise me with wonders, reinforcing joy of life.

But… There are “those” days, when we are forced to confront our darker side. Turned toward ourselves and pushed to acknowledge that life can sometimes smack you hard on the nose and feel absolutely no remorse.

It’s at these time that I turn to a warm beverage for a time out… Giving a few minutes to calmly put things in perspective… Works for me 😉

Brightest Blessings /|\

When life sucks… Make tea!

The kettle’s chaotic chorus builds,
Tendrils of vapour slink upward catching the daylight,
As I wait, watching and listening,
My mind buzzes with worry after worry.

The click of completion feels closer,
Indicating the boiling of life giving liquid,
The final seconds stretch in anticipation,
A few drops jumping from the spout.

The steaming water pours over the dry bag, beginning the magic,
Rich golden colours swirl around the cup,
The aroma of the leaf teases my senses,
My mind’s concerns halt in their path.

A few drops of cool milk drip into the golden pool,
Shapes form briefly on the surface,
As I exist briefly on Earth
Before becoming part of the brew,
As we eventually and inevitably rejoin the Earth.

I raise this small cauldron to my mouth,
The most common of morning rituals,
For a moment, if only fleetingly,
My worries fade into the distance,
Briefly… Nothing matters but me and my tea… /|\