A poem to honour the dead Photo by Ilie Barna  on Unsplash In the caverns of memory not far from the smiles and exuberance of dancing youth, an image of you smiles in grayscale hues, fresh faced and hair curled—captive to a history  which fears above all else to make itself known. When you were gone, your memory became our pain. We didn’t know  what you were, so we bleached your clothes and stitched in labels which caricatured your humanity as disease—an attempt to conceal th

The generational legacy of a psychiatric diagnosis Photo by Cosmin Gurau  on Unsplash Beyond the Label: The first time my aunt tried to end her life was on the day before I was born. When my father told me this a few months ago, it was like coming home to a lost part of myself, as if the context surrounding my birth suddenly explained the loss I had felt from my first moments in the world. Six years later, when she finally succeeded, her death sent shock waves through my fami

The creation of this blog coincides with starting my training in Psychosynthesis psychology, with the Institute of Psychosynthesis in London. This is an experiential training, and despite having a theoretical component, by far the most important aspect for me is this element of deep inner work which forms the basis of the training. I expect that as I make my journey through this training there will be much to write about, and this blog is intended as a repository for my musin

Photo by Shawn Rain  on Unsplash The motive is to dissolve— to find in the folds of creeping linen or by spreading out as airborne dust  some refuge from the black mass born of this insurrection towards innocence which unstitches him from his shadow creating a point of inflection where  he loses sight of life as he dances over walls flickering like effervescent candlelight to slip from the slumbered grip  of a tyrant acting out his broken machinations so that the curtained ro

In the background static  fractal infinities buzz and thrum as time bent through the senses of others, seen through the eyes of above looking down on lives as they live themselves throughout our many incarnations,  unearthing surprise whenever reality binds  to some semblance of recognition, as even the solace of memory distorts in the weft of years—  bringing together the lurching tears  that split this mind as it tries to weave  the movements of a world  into itself: seekin