The way of this world, the way of the ego, is not the real way. There is another and it is hidden beneath the passing clouds of thought which obscure both reality and identity. It is interesting that something that is always there, like the sun, is so hard to reach and how our lives are sent off, sometimes for lifetimes, down tributaries and cul-de-sacs where we may or may not learn out intended lessons.

There is a peace that passes all understanding. You wouldn’t know it much when you look at what’s going on in the world would you? It sounds like a fantasy. A kind of mental Shangri-La where all worldly travails are set aside and we finally let go and breathe out. Why does this peace elude all understanding? Because it is not a product of the mind, neither can it be understood by the mind.

Fallow time. It’s a glorious and vital expression. Its understanding marks the crossing of a threshold from left to right brain. It commends an easing, a descent that can only be done through trust and the shelving – temporarily at least – of the masculine mind, which is hot and heavy on linear ascents but befuddled and floundering with much else.If we look at our world, it doesn’t take long to see how many men need to rest in fallow time, re-orientate before inflicting themselves on others once more.