No WiFi,

no service,

no signal!

But that means

no Facebook

no Twitter

no messages

no texts

No emails

no phone calls (does anyone do that anymore?)

No BBC news

at the touch of a button;

No weather report –

How shall we know what the weather is doing?

No Words with Friends,

no Candy Crush (thank goodness for that!))

No Internet access,

no Google to answer

any questions we have.

What will we do?

Disconnect & look at each other.

Disconnect & talk to each other.

Disconnect & look at the world

all around in microcosm.

Disconnect and reconnect

with here and now,

with you and me,

in real time.


The Grey Lady

The Grey Lady stands

back to the wind,

looking out forever across the shifting seas.

Delicate face beneath her hood,

her cloak wrapped tight against the chill;

one slender hand upon her hip,

still she stands as the grey stones,

the grey stones, the grey stones,

tall against the sky.

The wind sighs through the sedge,

whispering stories down the years,

and she sighs, the grey lady,

echoing the wind

with stories of her own.


Waves dancing across the horizon

long rollers broken

into splashing arcs of foam

their continuity torn apart by the racing wind

yet they are one.

The endless tides ebb & flow

the waves pattern reflected on the sands

ripples imprinted underfoot

rising in layers in the dunes,

peaty brown then grey, bronze, gold and finest white

all echoed on the hillside round about.

The old etched patterns of the runrigs

wave upon wave down the ages

the wind whips up them into white-topped frenzy

blows the sand in gritty storms against the dunes

changing the pattern from hour to hour

yet down the millennia the pattern remains unchanged

here on Luskentyre


Here am I, waiting for the Lord;

Waiting, waiting….

As life and times pass by.

Here am I

Waiting for the Lord.

In this ancient place of worship

Where prayers are soaked into the stone;

Where people come, friend and stranger

To wait for the Lord.

Is he here? I cannot see.

Is he speaking? I cannot hear.

And so here I am, waiting for the Lord.

But I am one of action,

Lacking the patience of saints.

I need to walk beyond this place

And there I will find the Lord.

Not in that place but carried in my heart and soul

From that place of worship where I waited

For Him who was always within.

Inner reflections

Today I went to help someone pack ready for moving. The place was, to put it mildly, a mess.

Clothes lay in sprawling piles in the bedroom. Ornaments, crockery & toiletries jostled for space with piles of old newspapers, letters, books & shoes.

Chaos. Where to begin?

In the end, we began at the beginning, picking up one item at a time, folding , packing…picking, folding, packing…

As we packed, I began to notice things – a shoe rack, still in its unopened box; a set of shelves on a shelf; a metal filing box, unused; two free-standing clothes rails, again unopened, unused.

While we stood knee deep in crumpled clothing.

It seemed to me that all this external chaos mirrored the inner chaos of its owner’s life. Decent, good things buried alongside litter, trash, detritus….and the means with which to conquer the chaos close at hand.

Shelves, cabinets, racks, all ready to control the external  chaos, to order it, bring it into line.

Intelligence, prayer, support & knowledge all ready to do the same with the internal chaos.

Yet there was lacking the will, the ability to own the mess, wanting instead to pass it off onto someone else.

Our inner environment demands to be seen. If we will not look at it, it reflects in our external environment, clear for all the world to see…..