the rejection slips hardly ever bothered me: I only believed that the editors were truly stupid and I just went on and wrote more and more. I even considered rejects as action; the worst was the empty mailbox. if I had a weakness or a dream that I only wanted to see one of these editors who rejected me, to see his or her face, the way they dressed, the way they walked across a room, the sound of their voice, the look in their eye … just one look at one of them you see, when all you look at is a piece of printed paper telling you that you aren’t very good, then there is a tendency to think that the editors are more god-like than they are. hell is a closed door when you’re starving for your god- damned art but sometimes you feel at least like having a peek through the keyhole. young or old, good or bad, I don’t think anything dies as slow and as hard as a writer.

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Take care,

Julian

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Here is a link which tells you a little more about Gunnar Ekelöf.

Take care.

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Take care.

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I read today from my newest book of Bukowski, “Come on in!”. I understand that these poems were left to be published after Buk’s death but as with so many things about his life, I can’t know that for sure.

Enjoy.

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Enjoy.

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Take care.

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Enjoy.

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Enjoy.

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It is a poem not about the tragedy of death, but the tragedy of a life unlived.

Photo by Provincial Archives of Alberta on Unsplash

Enjoy.

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I’ve changed tack for today’s audio reflection even though I start with a poem by Mary Oliver called “When Death Comes”, which I think is fairly well known, and end with a reading from one of the most important books I’ve ever read, namely, “Die Wise: A Manifesto for Sanity and Soul” by Stephen Jenkinson.

This monologue, if you like, is the beginning of something that is not only important to me but needs to be aired — not because I’m doing so, but, instead, because we suffer from an avowed illiteracy concerning the subject of death.

I also feel that Substack would be a good place to explore the subjects of death, grief, and wisdom and how we might come to them perhaps with a more mytho-poetic enquiry, rather than as something to be scared of (certainly in the case of death) or to have no language with which to articulate how we really feel.

From my part, I don’t feel that I can ever stop reflecting on death, not just because I know that my time is limited and there are things that I want to do, but I want my death to mean something more than simply the end of one life and the transition to something else — if that’s even the right way of seeing things.

Thank you for listening.

Take care.

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Apologies for Eddie’s antics (the Springer)!

Take care.

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Take care.

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Take care.

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Take care.

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Sadly, he’s no longer with us, but he’s another Irish poet whose work I love.

If you don’t know his work, I’ve quoted from the Guardian’s obiturary below and left you with a link if you want to follow things up.

Take care, Julian

Running through the work of the poet Paul Durcan, who has died aged 80, was a strong ironic engagement with contemporary Irish mores and manners, and much else besides. With his first full-length collection, O Westport in the Light of Asia Minor (1975), Durcan showed himself to be a poet of many gifts, and a complete original. He resembled no one else. His poetry is oblique, exhilarating, unsettling and diverting all at once, and never hesitated to take off into a realm of the surreal. — The Guardian, 27 May 2025

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I recorded the whole poem from Lyrical Ballads, i.e., it’s the original version and does not contain the gloss that was added later.

I don’t expect you to listen to the whole thing — no, seriously — but you may like to take in a few verses to give you a flavour of how great the poem is.

Take care.

PS. The first few verses are of such monumental scale that I couldn’t help but set them out below:

THE RIME OF THE ANCYENT MARINERE, IN SEVEN PARTS. ==== I. ==== It is an ancyent Marinere, And he stoppeth one of three: “By thy long grey beard and thy glittering eye “Now wherefore stoppest me? “The Bridegroom’s doors are open’d wide “And I am next of kin; “The Guests are met, the Feast is set,— “May’st hear the merry din. But still he holds the wedding-guest— There was a Ship, quoth he— 10 “Nay, if thou’st got a laughsome tale, “Marinere! come with me.” He holds him with his skinny hand, Quoth he, there was a Ship— “Now get thee hence, thou grey-beard Loon! “Or my Staff shall make thee skip. He holds him with his glittering eye— The wedding guest stood still And listens like a three year’s child; The Marinere hath his will. 20 The wedding-guest sate on a stone, He cannot chuse but hear: And thus spake on that ancyent man, The bright-eyed Marinere.

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I have kept the reading to two poems today (i.e. short): “Absolution” and “The Redeemer”, the latter of which I’ve set out below.

Thanks for listening and stopping by.

Take care.

The Redeemer By Siegfried Sassoon Darkness: the rain sluiced down; the mire was deep; It was past twelve on a mid-winter night, When peaceful folk in beds lay snug asleep; There, with much work to do before the light, We lugged our clay-sucked boots as best we might Along the trench; sometimes a bullet sang, And droning shells burst with a hollow bang; We were soaked, chilled and wretched, every one; Darkness; the distant wink of a huge gun. I turned in the black ditch, loathing the storm; A rocket fizzed and burned with blanching flare, And lit the face of what had been a form Floundering in mirk. He stood before me there; I say that He was Christ; stiff in the glare, And leaning forward from His burdening task, Both arms supporting it; His eyes on mine Stared from the woeful head that seemed a mask Of mortal pain in Hell’s unholy shine. No thorny crown, only a woollen cap He wore—an English soldier, white and strong, Who loved his time like any simple chap, Good days of work and sport and homely song; Now he has learned that nights are very long, And dawn a watching of the windowed sky. But to the end, unjudging, he’ll endure Horror and pain, not uncontent to die That Lancaster on Lune may stand secure. He faced me, reeling in his weariness, Shouldering his load of planks, so hard to bear. I say that He was Christ, who wrought to bless All groping things with freedom bright as air, And with His mercy washed and made them fair. Then the flame sank, and all grew black as pitch, While we began to struggle along the ditch; And someone flung his burden in the muck, Mumbling: ‘O Christ Almighty, now I’m stuck!’

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I read three poems today from Tim Lilburn’s two books, “Desire Never Leaves” and “The Names” (the first book of his I bought).

I hope you enjoy his work as do I.

Take care.

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Take care.

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I read two poems from “The Collected Poems of Wilfred Owen” (a New Directions Paperbook): “Greater Love” and (of course) “Dulce Et Decorum Est”.

Take care.

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Take care.

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I read two of my favourite poems: Sometimes and Wild Geese; I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

Take care.

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As I type these words she’s currently pacing around the kitchen (I doubt if she’s ever been inside a house as was evidenced by her walking into our glass patio doors a few times) and I’m waiting for her to be collected.

I did manage to share a few of the things that I found and/or saw on my walk which was nice.

Thanks for listening.

Blessings,

Julian

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In today’s morning reflection, I share with you a few thoughts on Simon Boas’s wonderful book, A Beginner’s Guide to Dying (it really is an uplifting read, despite the topic) and a poem from Sally Purcell.

Thank you for listening to my musings on life, nature and all things in between.

Have a wonderful day.

Take care,

Julian

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For now, it feels the right thing to do, but I'm doubtful if I'll be able to keep up this sort of daily cadence, especially when I’ve got two dogs in tow or the weather turns gnarly.

Thanks for listening and for any feedback you’re able to offer.

Take care,

Julian

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You can find out more about him by going to Orphan Wisdom, the school that he set up many years ago.

If you already know him and his work and, like me, he’s had a profound effect on you and your life, I’d love to know more in the comments section to this post.

The reading is from this book called “How It All Could Be, A work book for dying people and for those who love them”; I also include a poem by Charles Bukowski. I hope you’ll understand the link.

Thank you for stopping by to listen.

Take care.

Love,

Julian

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In today’s podcast, I share a few of those which are not meant to be slain with a single response but slowly and reverently explored.

In fact, arguably, they’re meant to initiate a more profound search for meaning and purpose — or at least that’s my take on things — or better still to live the question/s now, as Rilke would have said.

Thank you for listening.

Much love,

Julian

These are the two podcasts that I refer to.

Stephen Jenkinson | Origins of an Orphaned Culture — Part 1

Stephen Jenkinson | Origins of an Orphaned Culture — Part 2

PS. I’ve updated my About page and changed the delineation between Free and Paid Subscribers (see the foot of the About page).

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Thank you for stopping by and listening.

Deep bows.

Love,

Julian

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The first poem is “Toads” from Philip Larkin and the second is “Contemplation is Mourning” from Tim Lilburn whose website can be found here. (It appears he doesn’t have one and so I’ve linked you to Corbel Stone Press and my favourite book of his called “Living In The World As If It Were Home”.)

I also share a few thoughts concerning my ongoing deliberations about Substack.

Thanks for listening.

Have a wonderful day.

Love,

Julian

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A short recording of two poems. One is from Mary Oliver, and the other from Ryokan.

The picture comes about because as I was reading Ryokan there was this almighty thunderclap (I kept going) which added a bit of verve and energy to the reading.

I’d love to know whether this format and poetry appeal to you or if you’d prefer to read the poems rather than hear my mellifluous timbre.

Take care.

Love,

Julian

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Thank you for listening and for bearing with me as I navigate through the online world.

Love,

Julian

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Sorry if this recording is a little unstructured but I thought it a good idea to update you on where I’m at. In a subsequent post, I will pick up a few of the threads in this recording.

This is a link to Darry Bailey’s website.

Take care.

Julian

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I’d love to know what you think, though.

Thank you for listening.

Love,

Julian

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All “heavy” subjects as my wife would call them but it’s where I’m at right now.

The reading is taken from Michael E. Gerber’s book, The E-Myth; the Strike article will give you a good overview of David Graeber’s thesis on B******t Jobs; and this link takes you to The Way of Chuang Tzu.

Thank you for listening and for your support.

Blessings,

Julian

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Blessings,

Julian

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Today’s monologue is an ode to “The Master Game” by Robert S de Ropp.

It’s a book that is of its time but still worth reading — at least in my view.

Take care.

Julian

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Do let me know what you think.

Blessings,

Ju.

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I’d love to get your feedback — it all helps to shape the tone, timbre and narrative.

Below are links to the books that I mention:

Morning Poems by Robert BlyThe E-Myth by Michael E. GerberEnough by John C. Bogle

Take care.

Much love, Julian

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Have a wonderful day.

Much love, Julian

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It touches on the loss of wonder in our lives and, again, enquiring after the more beautiful question.

Please do let me know what you think of the format.

Too long? Not clear enough? A little rushed?

Take care,

Julian

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I hope it’s not too sad or morose or out of keeping with how you see things.

Blessings,

Julian

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Instead, I’ve decided to do my social media stuff in the evenings; the rest of the day (i.e. 6 am to 6 pm) will be taken up with work (law), writing (poetry/my book) and reading.

I’ve recorded a few thoughts on why this might help me in getting and becoming more creative. In the mix is the fact that I’m not sleeping very well and have started drinking one too many glasses of the vino.

Have a wonderful day.

Take care.

JS

In today’s monologue, I share a few reflections.

Blessings,

Julian

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I’ve not had this amount of work for a long time.

It’s strange and a blessing (I suppose) that I’ve been able to move back into high gear to deal with the unfolding situation in Russia and Ukraine. It wasn’t that I thought these high-tempo days were behind me, but I never expected in my wildest dreams to have to be drawing on all my reserves of energy, legal knowledge and persuasion by dint of the unfolding crisis/war.

Today’s monologue is not scripted or pre-prepared but simply a flow of thoughts and feelings that are surfacing right now. It’s not too long and includes a few lines from a wonderful book by Richard Skelton called Stranger in the Mask of a Deer.

Have a wonderful Friday.

Take care.

Blessings

Julian

PS. If you'd like to encourage me in these posts and podcasts you could always get me a coffee and cake! you can do so here, but no obligation of course.

PPS. Fiddling whilst Rome burns? CS Lewis speaks into our crisis! by Malcolm Guite.

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How can I do otherwise?

You can’t but then again, what do you actually see, hear and experience?

(Please think about this question apart from the obviousness of it, i.e. not just the immediate, at hand things but from a point of zero distance from where you are to, if you like, the farthest you can conceive in the known universe.)

The trouble is, in our dualistic world, where we’re a separate me operating alongside lots of other mes, it’s very easy — way too easy I’d say — to overlook the reality of our extant situation.

What?

If I asked you to explain your world absent your memory, what then?

That’s stupid though, isn’t it?

Who the hell would want to let go of anything?

Very few people I know; but if we want to awaken to our true nature, all that stuff has to go; to die before you die, if you like. Not to be junked and never used again (we’d be zombies) but to understand that the thing, as they say, is not the thing we believe it to be and whilst we continue to see it otherwise, it’s very unlikely that we’ll move beyond the waking sleep state to something else.

This was the point I made in yesterday’s recording/post in describing the difference between the as if world and the as is world.

Does that mean we’ve got to seek this other place?

Not at all.

You are it but have simply overlooked it by dint of layers and layers of cultural indoctrination.

I know that sounds harsh or mildly ridiculous but think about any baby or small child before they’re told who or what they are by the adults; they’re a ball of energy and not disposed to be thrown off course by anything save that is when they’re hungry or tired.

To be clear, I’m not saying anything different to what has been said a zillion times before but the reason why I believe we’re not all seeking a headless state (I’m not a fan of the word enlightenment) or to acknowledge that this is all there is and will ever be, is because, in our materialistic world, we expect results. Namely, we want to know that we’re going to get something, not lose everything. I don’t mean our identity per se or our ability to function in the world but we’ll no longer be tied up in knots by believing that we’ve got to control everything internal and external to us in order to be happy and at peace.

In a way, and this might sound odd, we’re non-seekers in that you don’t have to look any further than the simplest of questions, i.e. what am I from my direct experience?, to realise the point I’m making.

If you’re not interested in this message that’s fine. I wasn’t or didn’t appear to be for 43 years of my life. And it’s very likely that if I hadn’t had my sudden shock, which made me look in a completely different direction to the one previously, I’d still have my wagon hitched to the get better, be all you can be narrative.

I don’t say that to be smug or clever in any way. I’m simply making the point that I’m very aware that it’s unlikely you’ll want to explore your true nature unless there’s a strong or overriding desire to do so. In short, nothing I say will make a difference; I’m fine with that. Oh sure, I’d love to strike up a conversation and find out what you really think about what I’m saying but I’m under no illusion that the majority of people want a rock-solid solution to their myriad problems and telling them that they need to lose their head (and gain a new world) is hardly likely to put me in the driving seat of anything.

All I would say, though, is that it’s never too late to reexamine all you’ve been told, and to understand that sometimes a simple message can be the most profound.

Take care.

Blessings,

Julian

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There are two worlds.

The as if world and the as is world.

This isn’t my description but something I first heard Douglas Harding talk about in one of his many talks.

Let me briefly explain.

as if world

This world is dualistic.

It’s exclusively based on language (whatever your native tongue). Apparently, it describes the thing we believe it represents. A hand is a hand; a car is a car. And a thought, feeling, emotion etc. is a definite thing.

We try desperately to control this world and believe that we’re controlled, at least to an extent, by external but unseen forces. “I’m stressed” is ordinarily taken to mean something external to me is making me this way or is certainly affecting my mood.

We argue with reality and lose every time.

[If you disagree with any of this, please let me know.]

as is world

This is our natural state.

Think of a baby or a very small child. They’re lost in the reverie of the moment. Likewise, we understand that what we describe as first person singular is not known and/or indescribable and whatever is arising is arising and we’re not in charge of any it.

Words aren’t apt to describe anything. We know that they’re simply a way to navigate the world. If we want to ask for a glass of water, we do. But we only know this and do this because we’ve been trained and/or indoctrinated this way.

We’re not somnambulists, fatalists or in the waking sleep mode described by Gurdjieff and others.

Everything just is — however paltry that might sound.

[Ditto my comment above. If you think this something other than what I’ve described, please let me know.]

On first blush, you might not see any difference between the two worlds and together they’re part of the full catastrophe we call living. Possibly, but I don’t think so. In fact, I’d go further and say that the inherent problem is that no one or at least very few people ever question the first person singular around which their whole life revolves. You know the drill:

I am this, that or the other thing.

Oh, really.

What is this ‘I’ that you cleave to with all your might?

No, dear reader that’s a serious, serious question. It might not seem that way but until we’re willing to question who or what we are from our direct experience and not how others or society has defined us, we’ll continue to be trapped in the as if world where, in essence, we argue constantly with what is happening and think we’re in charge or at least want to be.

I recognise the tension of what I’m describing, namely, when your dualistic world is all you’ve ever known and you’ve been told that you’re the Boss of your life, it’s hard to accept — not impossible mind you — that you’ve overlooked the most obvious thing in the world, i.e. your true nature.

I suspect, though, you’re deeply sceptical of this. For a start, if you can get your ducks in a row so that your life is, if not blissful, a little better than bearable why would you have any need to go running off looking for some mythical, ineffable I am? You wouldn’t. Moreover, particularly if you’re apt to come out in a rash when anyone mentions spirituality or faith or any other dogma, you’re likely to run for the hills. Trust me, as a hard-headed, literalist lawyer I understand where you’re coming from.

But then again, if you’re in the midst of another existential or any other crisis or you’re out of whack with a world intent on squeezing the living daylights out your soul, then you might feel drawn to explore something practical and very helpful that is apt to do something more than assuage your concerns with how your life has turned out.

That’s not me offering any certainty in any sense of the word, but, and it’s an important but, you might find that if you’re willing to question the regnant labels, built around the first person singular, and engage in a few of the experiments set out in Douglas Harding’s extraordinary book, On Having No Head, suddenly and unexpectantly, you’ll begin to see the world — your world — anew.

For me, as someone who’s having to pick up the work again, I find in explaining things to friends and family, the best place to start is the pointing experiment. I’ve already shared a video where Richard Lang demonstrates this but here is a brief set of instructions that should make you think about something you’ve taken as read all these years — i.e. you see the world through two tiny peepholes out of an ageing meatball (your head) supposedly containing your thinking self and I assume that mythical ‘I’.

* Take your finger, lift it up and point outwards ahead of you at an object, the wall or the ceiling. Describe the thing you see.

* Next, do the same in pointing to what you call your feet.

* Do the same with your knee, stomach and finally your chest area.

* Once you’ve done that and you know or believe you have been pointing at a series of things, then turn your finger so that it is pointing directly to the place where you believe your face to be. What do you see?

* Please describe that from your actual experience and not what you’ve been told by others or you’ve seen previously in a mirror.

I see no face; and I’m headless. And the space is wide open, a void if you like, and yet it takes in everything through one unlimited aperture. You might then ask what am I at zero distance to myself? Think of it like this. If I went up to you with a camera and kept on going, I’d quickly lose focus and then I’d be down to cells, molecules and atoms and then, well, who knows?

Yes you say but what’s this got to do with reality?

What reality?

The one that says you’re a terminal case, defined by others and constantly at war with some imaginary foe?

For me, it’s not so much liberating as it’s changed my world forever, much in the same way that the Heart Sutra did all those years ago.

Again, you say but it all sounds too simple. It is but that doesn’t make it any less profound.

Put it another way, we’re never asked to investigate who we are from our direct experience. In short, to pay attention to what’s happening now when we look out on our assumed world. That means we take as read what we’ve been told about who we are and how to navigate this VUCA world. But of course, when you’ve carved everything up into a series of zeroes and ones, it’s very hard to see that we’re essentially gifted or is that blessed to operate from a place of pure love, bliss or oneness.

I realise that that language is out of step with our materialistic, go-getter world where it’s all about perspiration, grit and perseverance but as someone who has acquired a slew of trophies in that department and plenty of war stories to boot, I stand testament to the fact that the effect you’re seeking — I assume solemnity, peace and equanimity — can be found, but it usually if not always disappears as quickly as it arrives. I can’t be universal in my observation but, certainly, I’ve never yet found someone who can attest to finding inner peace on the back of another get-better programme.

In the end, though, as I too often say, you’re either drawn to Self-enquiry or you’re not and nothing I say will or even should make a happeth of difference. There again, I hate to feel you’ve come to the end of the road and only then are you willing to throw existential caution to the wind in the hope of finding an inner sanctuary to help you navigate the travails of life. Of course, if you think I can help or you’d like me to speak further on the subject of our true nature, I’d be delighted to do so.

Thank you for listening to me read this post and I’d love to get your feedback as to whether you prefer it to the written newsletter.

Blessings,

Julian

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It’s an old book — 1968. Not ancient by the standards of personal development or spiritual teaching, and I don’t suspect it’s been on or is on your radar, but for me it’s still an important book.

Why?

Because it explains why we’re so easily seduced into playing the wrong games. Wrong in the sense that they keep us stuck and don’t move us towards fulfilling our unlived life — i.e. our genius self.

In today’s podcast, recorded last evening by dint of the fact that I’m office-bound today, I share the first part of a series of recordings on the main points of the Master Game. I was on the cusp of saying takeaways but with all teachings that aim to move us in the direction of our spiritual awakening, the doing (e.g. meditation, mindfulness, contemplation, retreats, finding a teacher) is far more important than assimilating a plethora of exhortations — no matter the rank of the guru or teacher.

I’d love to get your feedback or for you to drop me a line and tell me how this one landed.

Blessings,

JULIAN

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I’m just testing things out for now but it gives you an insight as to what, in time, you can expect me to be talking about.

Thank you for listening.

Julian