Songs
When Carol Sanford died at the end of November in 2024 many of her SEED community members attended a 49 day daily ritual to support her journey through the bardo of death to rebirth. We read from the Tibetan Book of the Dead and the Tibetan Book of Living and
Songs
I was dead inside. Addicted. I needed to shine the light onto the mechanism to break the trance that kept me consuming, extracting, dependent. This was painful to write and it hits me hard every time. It made me realise there was a hungry ghost living inside me and he
Songs
This is obvious now that I see it but I really did think that I only needed to think about regeneration, do the right project design and it would happen because that is what I wanted. Like trying to grow flowers from rocks. What happens if I just let all
Songs
I was doing my grocery shopping and was met by the warm smile of the business owner that felt like being greeted by sunshine. It created an introspective moment and I wondered why I became frightened. The True Sunshine in Your Smile0:00/238.5199791×
Writing
I wrote this parable to explore an archetype that I was beginning to see play out in my behaviour and then realised he had been there for a very long time, occasionally driving the bus. Listen to the audio as you read, if that is helpful. The Choir Boy Parable
Songs
A sea shanty crafted to help me remember the Mandala of the Five Wisdom Dakinis and transmute poisons as they arise in my mind throughout the day. The Haul of the Five Lights0:00/204.9599791× crafted January 2026
Songs
Crafted at the Turua Boat Ramp as I contemplated my new offering and considered those who were cold. By the Campfire0:00/257.3999791× crafted February 2026
Songs
I wrote this to process the grief I was experiencing when Gracie passed. I have cried many times to this song remembering her gentle presence. An Ode to Gracie my dog pal0:00/329.9599791× crafted February 2026
Writing
My addictions live only for the high and paper over the cracks in my life, like the silence of being alone. A raw dispatch on breaking the night time habit of digital sedation, by putting the iPad down and touching the Real to find true satiety. There is nothing like a good dream.
Writing
I am cold. I need to get warm. But how? A raw dispatch from the Turua boat ramp out on the Hauraki Plains where surviving purely in mechanical momentum is not a life, it is waiting. What does it take to truly come to life?
Writing
I have often mistaken the fist unclenching for true rest. But what happens when my whole arm drops? A dispatch from the old bus on the heavy shock of gravity, the quiet rebellion of deep rest, and why the soil never explains itself to the gardener. What will you stop carrying?