Transferring "Everyday Inspiration" to "Wayne Visser"

I've decided to continue posting Everyday Inspiration on my main blog from now on - see http://waynevisser.blogspot.com/

See you there!

Wayne

#75: Quote - Stories

We all have a story to tell - of our journey through this life, of the world through our eyes, of the "I am" that we are - and the true telling is in the living.

~ Wayne Visser, 1992

#74: Painting - Superwoman

SUPERWOMAN

By Wayne Visser

Acrylic, 2005

#73: Poem - Book Lovers

BOOK LOVERS
By Wayne Visser

So what if it’s true
I sleep with my books
There’s no need for you
To give me strange looks
It’s just when I’m weary
From every day strain
I want my books near me
To massage my brain
It’s a way to unwind
And let my thoughts go
It’s relaxing I find
To let the words flow
Is that so insane?

So what if I keep
The dictionary next
To me when I sleep
So I don’t get vexed
It’s just when I’m dreaming
And wake up with words
Like bright ribbons streaming
And songs of the birds
It’s best that I check them
To see if they fit
Rather than wreck them
Before they are writ
Is that so absurd?

So what if the sheets
I have on my bed
Are blank paper sheaves
To lay down my head
It’s just when I wake up
With some swirling rhyme
Like leaves left to rake up
From star scattered time
It’s better to scribble
The words on a page
And capture its riddle
Before the spark fades
Is that such a crime?

(2008)

#72: Quote - Dancing

Dancing is allowing ourselves to be moved by music.

~ Wayne Visser, 2005

#71: Prose - Enchantment

ENCHANTMENT
By Wayne Visser

How often do you allow yourself to be enchanted?
When last were you captivated by a story, a piece of music, or a movie?
Can you think of a recent nature scene, or idea, or person who left you spellbound?

We all long for enchantment, for a world of magic.
But most of us learned to stop believing a long time ago.
Fairies and elves, princes and princesses, talking animals and friendly trees – all these were safely packed away in a box called ‘childhood fantasies’, along with Father Christmas, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy.
Only occasionally do we allow ourselves to peek back into the box through the eyes of our children, or perhaps through the flickering lens of a cinema projector.
The rest of the time, our world is somewhat dull and grey, predictable and rational.

We draw a sharp line between fact and fiction, between reality and illusion.
And yet we trick ourselves into only believing what we can see, instead of trusting what we can feel.
We are victims of our own self-deception, conjuring evidence for drudgery when our intuition is whispering wondrous secrets in our ear.

So why the disenchantment?
Why have we allowed the technicolour to drain from our lives, leaving a facsimile in black and white?
Could it be that our parents left us in the shadow of well-meaning protection, that our schools taught us from the book of fear, that our religions forgot to tell us that the kingdom is within?

Or perhaps it was an innocent misunderstanding.
Our parents, our teachers, our religious leaders and ultimately, we ourselves, failed to understand that believing in fairies means believing in the art of the possible, that we are all knights in shining armour on the hero’s journey of our lives, and that tales of true love are not idealistic nonsense but the very reason for our being.

Somewhere in the process of growing up, we became confused and we threw out the message with the medium, the magic with the fairytales.
Nevertheless, we still all have a natural affinity for enchantment.

We can start believing again.
How?
By allowing ourselves to be delighted, by loosening the suffocating grip we have on our emotions, by being alive to the beauty of the moment, by letting our imaginations fly.

Enchantment does not mean turning our back on reality, but rather immersing ourselves in reality, with all our senses.
It means being fully present in our lives, and not denying the incredible experience of being on this earth.
We don’t have to struggle to be amazed, we simply have to open our eyes.

We are all practicing magic all the time, whether we know it or not.
The spells we cast are little affirmations we constantly chant in our heads – about whether life is fair, whether we believe in ourselves, and what is really important in our lives.
Take care, therefore, that you are not invocating bad spells, against yourself and others.

Enchantment comes from consciously inviting the light of love to shine through in every facet of life.
And expecting to see magic happen.
So, today, expect miracles, be amazed, weave good spells – in a word, let yourself be enchanted.

(2005)

#70: Quote - Strength

Sometimes strength is in recognising weakness, and courage is in accepting a helping hand.

~ Wayne Visser, 2007

#69: Poem - Haiku 3

HAIKU 3
By Wayne Visser

Twin swans, white as silk
Rise and fall with gentle swell
Curvatures in sync

(2009)

#68: Painting - Matopos (Zimbabwe)

MATOPOS (Zimbabwe)
By Wayne Visser

Watercolour, 2006

#67: Poem - The Park

THE PARK
By Wayne Visser

A time for reflecting and healing
For reconnecting and dreaming
A time out, to search within
To find rhyme if not reason

A space for thinking and writing
For tending to wounds from fighting
A space odyssey, in one place
In which to touch mystery’s face

(2005)

#66: Quote - Success

Success can always be traced back to one or two enthusiastic and committed individuals.

~ Wayne Visser, 2005

#65: Poem - Tide of White

TIDE OF WHITE

By Wayne Visser

The tide of white
The peaceful fight
Coming, ready or not
Lest Africa’s forgot
Coming to the shores
Of the Scottish moors
Knocking on the doors
Of the fortress eight
Questioning the laws
Of the Third World’s fate
From dissatisfaction
Comes a call to action
On debt and aid
And fair world trade
The snaking convoy
The voiceless envoy
Converging on the Meadows
Merging in the shadows
The masses flock
In patient gridlock
To start the march
With banners arched
Then the final crush
Before the rush
Circling the city
With hope, not pity
The tide of white
To make wrongs right

(2005)

#64: Painting - Jungle Friends

JUNGLE FRIENDS

By Wayne Visser

Colour Inks, 2008

#63: Poem - The Tunnel

THE TUNNEL
By Wayne Visser

Every tunnel has its ending
Every aperture its light
Every rainbow arch that’s bending
Shows that you can win the fight

And though the tunnel may be black
And hardship cannot be denied
Keep moving forward, never back
And you will reach the other side

And as you sojourn in the dark
You have a secret light, it’s true:
On every journey you embark
Your loved ones always ride with you

(2007)

#62: Quote - Dreams

Dream on! For success was never born from anything less than dreams.

~ Wayne Visser, 1993

#61: Painting - Dick & Harry

DICK & HARRY

By Wayne Visser

Watercolour, 2005

#60: Poem - Dream Shaper (Gaudi)

A tribute to the architectural genius, Gaudi:

DREAM SHAPER

By Wayne Visser

The very first glance took my breath away
Turning hungry night into thirsty day
With explosions of riotous colour
And swirling ideas like no other
With stone and glass curving
And wood fronds unfurling
On rooftops with teardrops
And courtyards with light-shards
You crashed in waves on my empty shore
And shook the caves of my hollow core

You stir the memory of ancient trees
And rouse the longing for restless seas
You bend and refract
My courage to act
To sculpt and create
My fusions of fate
You round my sharp edges
And speak my soul’s pledges
To fill my life’s ocean
With colour and motion

Your great gleaming spires
Hang suspended like wires
Between heaven and earth
Between magic and mirth
They echo creation
And spark revelation
To break with convention
And live with intention
To be builder and breaker
To become a dream-shaper

(2007)

#59: Quote - Change

Change is a process, not an event.

~ Wayne Visser, 1991

#58: Prose - Doubt

DOUBT
By Wayne Visser

What is the place of doubt in your life?
Do you question your abilities or potential?
Do you nurture insecurities about your desirability?
Are there lingering doubts about your relationships?
Or perhaps some niggling uncertainties about your beliefs?

Many see doubt as a disease, an unfortunate affliction that is best avoided, or if infection has already set in, a condition to be cured.
But doubt is a prerequisite for good health.
Like the friendly bacteria in yoghurt, doubt helps us to fight off life’s more serious threats.

We all have doubts, because they are the by-products of living and learning.
When a child burns itself on the stove, it has doubts about what is safe to touch - and that is a good thing.
When we have been let down by friends, we think twice about relying completely on others again - and that is a worthwhile lesson.
When we have been hurt in love, we are more cautious in our choice of future partners - and that is a sensible approach.
When our religious beliefs have failed us, we question their infallibility - and that is a wise perspective.

Doubt is the path to awareness, while certainty is the road to naivety.
Doubt is like a mountaineer with a walking stick, which she uses to test the ground ahead before stepping into the unknown.
Certainty is like a blind man without a stick, stumbling forward in the misguided belief that all obstacles will be cleared from his path.

Without doubt, there can be no questioning.
And without questioning, there can be no discovery.
Without discovery, there can be no true knowledge.
And without true knowledge, there can be no progress.

And yet, when doubt turns to despair, it becomes our prison, rather than our sky.
When doubt overwhelms us, it keeps us in shackles, rather than giving us wings.
For the purpose of doubt is not to paralyse, but to catalyse.
Doubt should encourage us to test the water, not scare into a fear drowning.

Doubt and trust are partners in time.
To have trust without any doubt is to be foolish and to court disaster.
To have doubt without any trust is to be paranoid and to invite madness.
And yet, each moves opposite to the other, like tango dancers.
As trust increases, doubt recedes into the shadows.
But break the trust, and doubt returns stronger than before.

Doubt is not an absence of hope
And faith is not an absence of doubt.
In the same way as bravery is not an absence of fear
Hope is seeing the light in spite of the shadows
And faith is trusting the unknown despite the dangers.

So let us be bold in our hopes, but not foolish in our footsteps.
Let us be brave in our faith, but not blind in our beliefs.
Let us listen to our doubts, but not be deafened by their cries.
Let us be healthy doubters
Not stuck in the mire of fear and disbelief
But en route to the horizon of living and learning and loving

(2008)

#57: Quote - Synchronicity

Synchronicity is a sign that the universe is working with us, or perhaps more accurately, that we are working in harmony with the universe.

~ Wayne Visser, 2007

#56: Poetry - Names

NAMES
By Wayne Visser

Names are tangled pathways to meaning
And secret tunnels to hidden treasure
Names are skeleton keys to sacred symbols
And enigmatic codes to scrambled messages

Names connect together
And affirm uniqueness
Names resonate with power
And quiver with subtlety
Names build bridges
And break down walls

Names are echoing voices of the past
And shimmering visions of the future
Names are the silky touch of the now
And the delicate breath of all eternity

(2005)

#55: Poem - Skylight

SKYLIGHT
By Wayne Visser

Sky of mauve
Clouds alight
Pink and peach
Pure delight!

(2007)

#54: Quote - Certainty

Life comes with no guarantees; nor does love.

~ Wayne Visser, 2007

#53: Prose - Dancing

DANCING
By Wayne Visser

Why does dancing feel so good?
Could it be that we were all born to dance?

Dancing is as natural as breathing and no less vital.
It is not something we have to be taught when we are young.
Yet we learn to stop doing it as we get older.

Dancing is music in motion.
It is what happens when we hear the beat and feel the rhythm.

What is your favourite dance music?
What gets your finger tapping and your head bobbing, your hips shaking and your feet stamping?
When can you no longer resist the urge to get up and dance?

Dance works as a universal language because it is so diverse.
One size never fits all.
But dance comes in infinite shapes and sizes.
There are cultural dances and national dances, traditional dances and modern dances.
You can choose jazz or cabaret, Latin or ballroom.
Do you love ballet, or are you a disco diva?
Maybe you can break-dance or whirl like a dervish?

Each tide of music makes its own waves of dance.
Like the gravitational pull of the moon, we feel the tug of dance on the sea of our emotions.
We move to the music not because we think we should, but because we feel we must.

Dancing is not an instruction of the mind, but an expression of the heart.
We dance because it allows us to let go of something inside, to give vent to our inner wildness.
Dancing lets us be a child again, footloose and carefree.
It gives us permission to connect with that part of ourselves which does not question, which acts rather than thinks, which moves because it feels right, not because there is a good reason to do so.

Dance is the quintessence of harmony – harmony between time and space, music and movement, beat and step.
Dance is an exhibition of beauty, the perfect choreography of resonance – motion is in tune with emotion, sway echoes sound, pattern weaves design.

Dancers are the living expression of Tao, the way of flow – they swirl to the eddies of song, glide to trickle of composition and churn to the whitewater rapids of the beat.

When music plays and we stand still, we are out of kilter.
Sound demands motion.
Music without dance is dissonance, an unnatural stemming of the tide, a dam wall cutting off the river from its source.

Why then do we so often ignore the call to dance?
Have we become deaf to the music?
Perhaps we have forgotten what moves us?
Or are we simply afraid of what others might think?

We have been tricked into believing that there is a right and a wrong way to dance, a better and a worse way.
How tragic.
We should be celebrating our own unique style of dancing, making our footprint on the sands of time, like all those before us since time immemorial.

Just as no one can tell us what kind of music moves us, so no one can judge the way we dance.
Dance in a crowd, dance with a partner, or dance alone – whatever makes you feel good.
And if others think we can not dance, it is only because they do not understand what moves us.

Dancing, when it happens spontaneously, is a match made in heaven.
It is a state of pure being, of oneness with the universe.
When we dance, we hear the echo of the primordial drum beat, we dip our oar into the river of rhythm through the ages, and we throb to the very pulse of life itself.

Do you know what music moves you?
Play it now, even if just in your head, and watch yourself dance through the day.

(2005)

#52: Quote - Theatre

Theatre is where we go to let others expose who we are.

~ Wayne Visser, 2005

#51: Poem - Look Up!

LOOK UP!
By Wayne Visser

When you’re feeling brown
Look up, not down
Don’t fret or frown
Don’t dig a hole
Don’t be a mole
There’s nothing much that’s up
When you are underground
Instead, the thing I’ve found
Is that if I build a mound
I’m already much more such more up
Than ever I was down

And if you’re feeling sad
It’s not so bad
So don’t get mad
Rather think of all the good things
Like chocolate books and magic rings
And flying without feathered wings
Or think of something really fun
Like playing in the sparkly sun
And belly laughing with someone
Or anything makes you glad
Just not what makes you sad

And if you’re feeling low
Don’t stop, just go
Go fast, not slow
Go with the flow
Or plant a seed of happy thoughts
And watch it sprout and grow
Then climb your wavy happy tree
And from the top you’ll see, you’ll see
You’ll almost touch the sky
And when you are so high, you’ll know
That you’re no longer low

So when your sky is cloudy
Be bright, not dowdy
In fact be downright rowdy
Jump and dance and scream and shout
Don’t keep it in, just let it out
And if you’re loud and clear
The sun might even hear
And come out from its hiding place
And show its warm bright shining face
And say to you a sunny “Howdy …
Look up! It’s clear not cloudy”

(2007)

#50: Painting - Life of Pi

LIFE OF PI

By Wayne Visser

Watercolour, 2005

#49: Poem - Listen As She Hums

LISTEN AS SHE HUMS
By Wayne Visser

All the world’s in harmony
A thousand beating drums
When I wake up in the morning
And listen as she hums

All the world’s a symphony
A thousand chiming gongs
When I’m walking past the bathroom
And hear her singing songs

All the world’s a carnival
A thousand samba feet
When I catch her in the kitchen
Hips swaying to the beat

All the world’s a canticle
A thousand chanted prayers
When I lie at night beside her
And breathe away her cares

(2007)

#48: Quote - Believing

Suspending disbelief is not nearly as powerful as believing.

~ Wayne Visser, 2005

#47: Prose - Dignity

DIGNITY
By Wayne Visser

Which leaders do you admire for their dignity?
What is it about their attitude, or their behaviour, that distinguishes them?
What does it mean to live, and to die, with dignity?

Dignity implies being able to hold your head up high, to be proud of your actions, to be unashamed of the way in which you carry yourself in the world.
Not because you are better than others, or holier than thou; on the contrary, because you are the same as others, equally worthy.

Dignity is the worth we bestow on ourselves and others when we affirm our common humanity.
Dignity draws on what is good in human beings – our generosity, our compassion, our selflessness – not because it wishes to deny what is bad, but because it believes that we have the choice.
Our higher nature can transcend our baser selves, if we cultivate the strength of our principles.

We respect the world’s great moral leaders, past and present, because of the difficult choices they made.
They chose forgiveness over revenge, love over hate, service over success.

The worst embodiments of evil in the history of the world – whether people, or political regimes or religious doctrines – were all attempts to strip people of their basic human dignity, their inherent worth as people, their intrinsic value as citizens.

Prejudice is the destroyer of dignity.
When we are prejudiced against someone because of their colour or creed, their nationality or sexual preference, their looks or weight, we are denigrating them, devaluing their personality, degrading their humanity.
We are judging them on artificial scales and sentencing them on superficial grounds.

We all have prejudices.
They are drummed into us by our parents, taught by our schools, and ritualised by our religions.
We are blinded by our cultures, brainwashed by the media and seduced by our hubris.
Dignity is the ability to recognise prejudice for the false god that it is, and choose instead to affirm each person’s inherent value as a human being.

Ironically, it is often those whose dignity is most assaulted who find it within themselves to respond to their persecutors in a dignified manner.
Many of our most admired icons are those who refused to treat others in the same dehumanising way in which they themselves were treated.
Mahatma Ghandi responded to active violence with passive resistance, Martin Luther King responded to racism with a dream of harmony between black and white, and Nelson Mandela forgave his captors and sought to unify those whom apartheid had rent apart.

At the heart of dignity is the unshakeable belief that no one person is better, or worse, than another.
Delusions of superiority, even under the guise of self-righteousness, are a poison in the blood of dignity.
Likewise, feelings of inferiority are a malignant cancer which eats away at the body of dignity.

We should not think that dignity is only a task for the heroic amidst the melodrama of historical injustice.
Every moment of the day, in small yet significant ways, we affirm or deny dignity in our lives.

Dignity is all in the way we regard others.
Do we judge them superficially, or do we look beyond surface appearances?
Do we see them through the tainted lens of prejudice, or do we treat them as equals?
Do we build them up based on their strengths and potential, or do we break them down based on their weaknesses and failings?

Treating others with dignity, however, is impossible unless we have discovered our own sense of self-worth.
Do we believe in our own fundamental value as human beings?
Do we have faith in our own ability to make a contribution in this world?
Do we feel connected to a source of inspiration that guides us in the realisation of our divine potential?

Dignity is not a free inheritance, but something we have to work at.
It is not a miraculous gift of the saints, but a habit which we have to nurture with intent.
Yet, unlike prejudice which is learned, dignity is an act of remembrance.
For our original state as humans is one of dignity.

We all share the same dream on this day, and throughout our lives, and that is to be treated with dignity and respect, to be valued for who we are as human beings.
So let us give as we hope to receive – because you’re worth it, and so am I.

(2005)

#46: Quote - The Third Way

The Third Way is that elusive road joining the divergent paths of growth and development, ownership and sharing, competition and co-operation, confrontation and consensus, material and spiritual.

~ Wayne Visser, 1994

#45: Poem - Chronic Rhyme Disease

CHRONIC RHYME DISEASE (CRD)
By Wayne Visser

I swear I will not bow to rhyme
(this time)
For I must learn to let words flow
(let go)
And not to drum with sonic beat
(like feet)
Or try to net the perfect match
(to catch)

But now I see I’ve failed once more
(my flaw)
To scatter words like falling leaves
(from trees)
Instead like hiccups in my chest
(no rest)
I search for words that sound the same
(this game)

They call it Chronic Rhyme Disease
(don’t tease!)
Or CRD in doctor-speak
(I’m weak!)
The illness isn’t hard to spot
(it’s not!)
And leaves the victim quite distraught
(in short)

I guess I’m one such hapless bard
(it’s hard)
Still trapped within a cage of words
(like birds)
A lover of the lilt of lines
(like chimes)
An addict of the rhyming mode
(this ode)

(2007)

#44: Painting - The Sea

THE SEA

By Wayne Visser

Acrylic, 2008

#43: Quote - Time

Time is our greatest gift, and using it well, our greatest offering in return.

~ Wayne Visser, 2005

#42: Poem - Far Away

FAR AWAY
By Wayne Visser

While we’re apart – each night and day –
Just close your eyes and softly say:
“There’s no such place as far away”

(2005)

#41: Painting - Goddess

The Goddess

By Wayne Visser

Acrylic, 2007

#40: Poem - Bridges

BRIDGES
By Wayne Visser

A bridge across time
Through music and rhyme
Crossing the wires
With flickered desires

A bridge across oceans
To mix magic potions
Seeing new sights
With sensual flights

A bridge across space
Where fantasies chase
Living our dreams
With nocturnal streams

A bridge across rivers
Where memory quivers
Recalling romance
And whirling rain dance

A bridge across forever
Held up by a feather
Joining our fates
As friends and soulmates

(2005)

#39: Quote - Beliefs

My creed is simple: I believe in the potential of everything and everyone, for good and evil.

~ Wayne Visser 1988

#38: Prose - On Business

Business is the lifeblood coursing through the veins of society, pulsing with creative spirit, transforming the earth’s raw gifts into food to sustain our needs, energy to power our imaginations, blocks to build our dreams.

The heart of business is service, flexing with tireless reciprocity, pumping multifarious products of enterprise through lubricant trade arteries to the farthest reaches of the global body-civic.

When the heart is strong, and the arteries are clear, and the blood is clean, the constitution of civilization is likely to be healthy;
But when service is sacrificed for greed, and trade is inequitably distributed, and business is corrupt of values, the integrity of the community is likely to be diseased.

When the circulation of benefits is poor, numbness follows and rot eventually sets in;
When wealth congeals in the hands of too few, it is only a matter of time before the clot causes a brain haemorrhage;
When unethical behaviour builds up in the commercial system like viscous cholesterol, a cardiac arrest is the inevitable conclusion.

Business serves its purpose best when it flows freely and widely, unbound by the constrictions of petty bureaucrats and their obsessive need to tie tourniquets of red-tape;
Free from the interference of fickle politicians and their compulsive habit of pulling strings and trading favours;
Free from the drain of financial vampires and their unquenchable thirst for higher growth and profits and packages at all costs.

Business nourishes society when it is the conduit for sharing knowledge and passion and wisdom;
When it is the stimulus for nurturing growth and development and integrity;
When it is the means for meeting the needs of those most vulnerable, living on the desperate margins of the world.

Business bleeds society when it thoughtlessly injures the planet or harms its people;
When it incarcerates the human spirit or enslaves creative minds;
When it becomes infected with the cancer of acquisitive means to selfish ends.

Responsibility for business, be it good or ill, is always collective.

Even to speak of business as a separate, engagable entity, is a fallacy, created for the convenience of theoreticians, philosophers and others who wish to stand aside and commentate on life, rather than experience it first hand.

Business is not, can never be, separate from society, neither from the people who animate its communities, or the natural environment which sustains its continued existence.

Where would one begin and the other end?
We are all economic agents – customers, employees, shareholders, employers, managers – inextricably linked, permeable, interdependent – a grand synergy.

In the final analysis, we – each, individually, and together, collectively –
are business and business is us.

It is the same life-giving blood that courses through all our veins.

Wayne Visser, 2005

#37: Quote - Touch

Only when touched do we truly come to our senses.

~ Wayne Visser, 2005

#36: Poem - Winter Song

WINTER SONG
By Wayne Visser

Crunching boots like music beat
Globs of light on misty street
Puffs of breath like smoky lace
Dripping nose on frozen face

Frosted leaves like festive cake
Shards of ice on glassy lake
Silver sun like shining moon
Twilight stars come out too soon

Cosy rooms like thermal hugs
Steaming soup in favourite mugs
Calls to shop like ringing gong
Hum along to winter song

(2005)

#35: Painting - Paint by Numbers

Colour Ink and Acrylic, 2008

#34: Poem - I Hear You

I HEAR YOU
By Wayne Visser

I hear you in the silence
When all the world's asleep
I hear you tap the window
With pitter-patter feet

I hear you in the whisper
Of trees that gently sway
I hear you in the wave song
Of horse-mane ocean spray

I hear you in the country
In forests and in glens
I hear you in the river
And on the boggy fens

I hear you in the city
Amidst the traffic noise
I hear you on the playground
With laughing girls and boys

I hear you in the spaces
Your visits left behind
I hear you in my heartbeat
And in the poets' rhyme

(2007)

#33: Quote - Beginnings

Every new beginning is just a first step away.

~ Wayne Visser, 2005

#32: Prose - Books

BOOKS
By Wayne Visser, 2005

Books are the ongoing conversation of the ages

Do you have a soft spot for books, a weakness for their charms?
Do you think of books with fondness, regard them with affection?
Perhaps you would even go so far as to say that you have a love affair with books?

Books are such sweet seduction.
Who can resist the coy enticement of an enigmatic title, the alluring perfume of virginal pages, or the beckoning gesture of a back cover synopsis?
Dressed in shining leather, laced with gold trim, trailing a teasing ribbon, who can fail to be bewitched?
Or are you beguiled by the more rugged, travel-savvy type, whose rough looks hint at adventures barely survived?

Whatever your preference, books have a way of grabbing our attention, revealing just enough to pique our interest and then string us along, toying with our emotions, keeping us guessing.
With each successive chapter, another button is undone, another layer shed, another feature unveiled.

Some books are a sun-kissed afternoon spent in pleasant idle chatter.
Others are a romantic-laden dinner full of suggestive glances.
And still others are a pace-quickening ride ending in a breathless climax.

What are your favourite books?
Can you remember the first book that made a real impact on you?

When we learn to read, we forge a magical key to a vault of unimaginable hoarded wealth.
When we enter in, the vast cavern is stacked from floor to ceiling with treasure chests, just waiting for us to open them and find out what is inside.

Every book is a mystery trapped between two covers.
And we are the only ones who can release the riddle from bondage.
We are the only ones who can undertake the fairytale quest to discover its secrets.

When we start reading a book, we are blind to the journey we are about to undertake, of the magical places we will visit and the mortal dangers we will encounter.
We have no idea how the story will end, not least the tale of our own transformation.
For every book is a philosopher’s stone, a rite of alchemy which changes us.

Books are a meeting place – between author and reader, between expressed intent and receptive imagination, between past and present.

Whoever said that time travel has yet to be invented has never read a book.
Books transport us back in history, to exotic places and strange times.
For all books are a child of their time.
We see old worlds through new eyes, and new worlds through old eyes.
There are no limits to where the enchanted time-machine we call books can take us.

And yet, no matter how far we travel, in time and space, in creativity and imagination, we end up back at the same place we started – the place where people connect.
Books are always about relationships, about the interaction between characters.

Books are the dialogue which never ends, the eternal human conversation.
We can choose how much of the dialogue to listen to, how much of the conversation to participate in.
We can voice our agreement or register our dissent.
And every word will add to the evolving story of humankind.

Books are power in our hands and wisdom in our heads.
Books are passion in our hearts and levity in our souls.
They are all these things and more.

Yet their ready accessibility keeps books out of the reach of many.
Their common appearance disguises their unbelievable worth.
Do not let yourself be fooled.
Claim your prize today.
Set off on a journey into the unknown.
Allow yourself to be seduced.

What book will you choose?
And more tellingly, what book will choose you?

#31: Quote - Transcendence

Life is all about transcending our limitations - seeking out boundaries of our potential, and then stepping beyond them.

Creative Commons 1992

#30: Poem - Gentle Storm

Upon a clear and frosty autumn morn
I found myself caught in a gentle storm
No lightening flashed across the azure sky
No thunder rolled and all the ground was dry
No rain or snow, no whisper of a breeze
And yet a shower fell beneath the trees

Swooping and swirling
Drifting and diving
Wafting and weaving
Floating and flirting

And while the leaf-drops all around me fell
I stood entranced by nature’s silent spell
Kaleidoscopic colours filled the air
And mesmerised all I could do was stare
A light-and-motion dance that left me high
A tempest raging quiet as a sigh

Creative Commons 2005

#29: Painting - Africa

Acrylic

Creative Commons 2008

#28: Poem - Born to Fly

Threads of words across the miles
Dyed with tears and strung with smiles
Ropes of friendship woven tight
Bridge the gulf of day and night

Splashes of smiles upon the page
Brushed with youth and coloured with age
Canvass of memories and imagination
Reveal the art of co-creation

Glitter of laughter sparkling bright
Eases the dark and catches the light
Circus of clowns who entertain
Shine joy to lift the clouds of rain

Feathers of touch against the skin
Caress without and tickle within
Flutter of wings across the sky
Reminds us that we’re born to fly

Creative Commons 2005

#27: Quote - Attitude

Our attitude is the only thing over which we can have complete control

Creative Commons 2005

#26: Poem - Ideas of Winter

Clouds drift
In billowing embrace
Reassuringly grey
Unexpectedly white
Wrapping me up
And tucking me in
Safe under duvet skies
Content on verdant pillows
Happily watching
Short days
Curl in on themselves
Longing for rest
In search of dreaming
While puce clouds
Weigh the option
Of dropping their ballast
To water
Ideas of winter

Creative Commons 2007

#25: Prose - Beginnings

Do you have hopes, dreams and wishes for the future?
Or even just something you have been meaning to do, or longing to achieve?
Why not make a start today towards making it happen?

Nothing grand, nothing onerous, just take one small action to set you on your way.
Cathedrals are built one stone at a time, and although they may take generations to complete, they would not exist at all if someone hadn’t been bold enough to lay the first cornerstone.
Lao Tzu was right:
The journey of a thousand miles does begin with the first step.

But why is that first step often so difficult to take?
Perhaps it is because we are intimidated by the size of the task before us, the length of the journey ahead?
But remember the old question of how to eat an elephant.
Answer: one bite at a time.
An inspiring vision is important, but it helps to focus on down-to-earth practicalities to get started.

Another reason we hesitate to begin afresh is because we have tried and failed before.
Cynicism is the root of all inertia.
If you are dismissive or scornful of New Year’s resolutions, it is probably because you’ve been burned before;
You’ve had your own or others’ hopes dashed as idealistic goals fizzle like damp squibs in the cold light of daily pressures.
Sound familiar?

One way to cure cynicism is to change the way we think about beginnings.
Every big ending is the result of countless small beginnings.
We should not expect to achieve our goals the first time we try.
You are saved from failure not by being born again, but by being born again and again and again, as many times as it takes to succeed.

The only thing more difficult than beginning is beginning again.
And yet beginning again is the easiest way, indeed the only way, to succeed.
The willingness to pick ourselves up when we fall and to try again is what makes the difference between success and failure, between moving forwards and standing still, or going backwards.

Or maybe it is not failure that you fear, but success itself.
What would happen if your wildest dream, your most cherished hope, your secret wish, really did come true?
You would have to change.
You would have to take responsibility for all those things you said would be possible “if only”.
So sometimes we shy away from new beginnings because we are afraid of where they might take us.
But unless we set our foot upon the path, we will never really know where it leads.

It is true that not all beginnings are bright and cheery.
Starting an unpleasant chore, or beginning a life without a loved one is hardly cause for celebration.
Yet even these tough beginnings will bring their share of rewards for effort and reprieves from suffering.

Indeed, in dark times, it is often the chance to begin again which helps us to make it through.
We take each day, each step, each breath, one at a time, in order to survive.
Remembering that each new beginning holds the potential to change things for the better:
To lighten the darkness;
To ease the load
To heal the wound
To forgive and love again.

We can take our cues from nature – each sunrise, the new moon, spring time.
Or we can invent our own reminders – morning prayers, the start of a week, the first of the month, or celebrating a new year.
Or perhaps our beginnings will be inspired by the Resurrection, Ramadan, Passover, or Diwali.

We are constantly on the cusp of new beginnings, amidst the cycles of our lives.
And there is no better time to begin anew than now …
And now, and now and …

Creative Commons 2005

#24: Quote - Understanding

When we understand why and how people and things are they way they are, hatred and prejudice can no longer exist.

~ Creative Commons 2005 ~

#23: Poem - T*B*L*F

Truth is the bedrock on which to build
Beauty is the shape of artful stone
Love is the roof of shimmering gild
Freedom is the choice to make a home

Creative Commons 2005

#22: Painting - Daffodils

Acrylic

Creative Commons 2009

#21: Poem: I Wish

I wish ...

For lazy days in cluttered bookstores
For meandering walks in shaded parks
For swirling dances in the soaking rain

For intimate cuddles in the dark night
For whispered sighs of deep contentment
For echoed cries of passion unrestrained

For bubbling children never far away
For idle excursions to the shopping mall
For travel adventures in distant lands

For magical hours of poetry reading
For quenching delight in fresh writing
For lingering encounters with enigmatic art

For gentle floating on music's breeze
For reflected drama on theatre stages
For great movies with popcorn and coke

For butterfly kisses in unexpected places
For warm hugs for no reason whatsoever
For holding hands in silent understanding

For roaming talks without destinations
For playful experiments with illusions
For soul journeys to unseen worlds

For growing old through the seasons
For slowing down as the years go by
For being happily in love for ever after

... with you

Creative Commons 2005

#20: Prose - The Art of Business

Business is, by its very nature, an adventure in creativity, an exercise in imagination, an enterprise in innovation.

If you think about it, commerce is all about creation – creation of markets, companies, products, brands and jobs – as well as finding inventive ways to target, design, position, package and sell these.
Even before ‘entrepreneurship’ entered the business lexicon, successful enterprise has always been the nexus where invention meets opportunity, innovation meets needs and resourcefulness meets markets.

So it is somewhat surprising to reflect on how little business has drawn on that paragon of creativity – the arts – to challenge, inspire, inform and project itself.
By contrast, the arts themselves have never shied away from using business as the inspiration for their creative endeavours.

So what happens when we open the Pandora’s Box of artistic perspectives on business?
Can we piece together a mosaic of creative visions on commerce?
Or join up the dots of imagination on trade?
By using the arts – including painting, film, theatre, literature, cartoons and poetry – we get to see business’s public persona reflected (including its shadow self).
We are able to illustrate, through the medium of the arts, how business is perceived in different parts of the world and at different times in history, including up to the present day.

So where might we start looking for images of business-in-the-looking-glass?
Would it be movies like Wall Street (“greed is good!”) or The Corporation (“the pathological pursuit of profit and power”)?
Or perhaps the poetry of former Fortune 500 executive James Autry (author of “Love & Profit”) or the literary genius of Shakespeare (“all that glitters is not gold”)?

Would we question why so many business leaders take inspiration from Sun Tzu’s “The Art of War” or Machiavelli’s “The Prince”?
And would we be amused or infuriated by the doctored logos of multinationals or spoof corporate websites that fall foul of anti-globalisation protesters?
Is there “many a truth in jest” to be found in the “fat-cat” businessman caricatures that go back centuries, or the cartoon vitriol of Enron’s jailed executives?

Do these artistic commentaries give us a window into the soul of business, or simply a superficial view of its popular mask?
Whichever way you see it, these highly visual, evocative and stimulating illustrations all have something to say about the role of business in society, especially its contribution to (or violation of) the public good.
All the current debates around environmental responsibility in the face of climate change and ecological destruction, or trade justice in the context of persistent poverty for the majority of the world’s population, are brought into sharp, colourful focus by the arts.
And the picture they conjure is not always negative.

The creativity of the arts has often been used in business to encourage innovation, motivation and responsibility, whether it is the use of industrial theatre for AIDS awareness in South Africa, or Haiku poetry in leadership workshops in the UK.
And after all, what can be more creative than the advertising industry itself?

The power of using the arts as a lens through which to view business is that we get an insight into the psyche of the modern corporation.
We tap into the mood of the public and their often unspoken fears and prejudices about business.
And we also begin to see business for what it really is – a deeply human enterprise, with all the foibles and potential which that implies.

Hence, the art of business is, if anything, the art of being human:
An eternal stage for playing out so many of our most familiar dilemmas –
The struggle between head and heart, between ambition and morality, ego and altruism, self-fulfilment and service to others.
And the art, as opposed to the science or economics, of business, is to find beauty, truth, and yes, even love, in the creative process that is enterprise.

#19: Quote - Answers

Searching for answers in life presumes that we even know the questions

Creative Commons 1992

#18: Poem: I Am An African

I am an African
Not because I was born there
But because my heart beats with Africa’s
I am an African
Not because my skin is black
But because my mind is engaged by Africa
I am an African
Not because I live on its soil
But because my soul is at home in Africa

When Africa weeps for her children
My cheeks are stained with tears
When Africa honours her elders
My head is bowed in respect
When Africa mourns for her victims
My hands are joined in prayer
When Africa celebrates her triumphs
My feet are alive with dancing

I am an African
For her blue skies take my breath away
And my hope for the future is bright
I am an African
For her people greet me as family
And teach me the meaning of community
I am an African
For her wildness quenches my spirit
And brings me closer to the source of life

When the music of Africa beats in the wind
My blood pulses to its rhythm
And I become the essence of sound
When the colours of Africa dazzle in the sun
My senses drink in its rainbow
And I become the palette of nature
When the stories of Africa echo round the fire
My feet walk in its pathways
And I become the footprints of history

I am an African
Because she is the cradle of our birth
And nurtures an ancient wisdom
I am an African
Because she lives in the world’s shadow
And bursts with a radiant luminosity
I am an African
Because she is the land of tomorrow
And I recognise her gifts as sacred

Creative Commons 2007

On Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uh0KVOaf3k

#17: Painting: Fairest Cape

Watercolour

Creative Commons 2007

#16: Poem: Scattered Books

I am single minded
Among my scattered books
And laser focused
Behind my fractured looks

I am neatly ordered
Beneath my messy papers
And purpose driven
Throughout my winding capers

I am quietly musing
Amidst the idle chatter
And always searching
For the words that matter

So judge not substance
By the mask of reason
Nor gauge true progress
By the whim of season

Creative Commons 2007

On Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHPWE3xRRCI

#15: Quote: Ageing

Ageing is as much a mental game as a physical one. “How old are you?” is not nearly as revealing and important as: How old do you feel?

Creative Commons 2009

#14: Poem: Flibbawookie

After Lewis Carroll's "Jabberwocky"

I’m loofed upon my slumpfry chair
And snugful phrapped without a care
My mind’s awhim with pluffly clouds
And wurvly willows floom like shrouds

And there beslind the zub-zib shore
I flond an open majling door
Inverpling me to shwelp into
A wurp-hole that wawoosks me through

To my surprang I chinz to meet
A flibbawookie with floq feet
She prurls into my whyful eyes
And squeebs to lerk me hypnotised

I flonk beneath her quirly gaze
And flerb into the mergly haze
I’m swooked with dreams of virv delight
And flummed with luzzness at first sight!

Creative Commons 2007

#13 Prose: Music (Tribute to Michael Jackson)

I offer today's Everyday Inspiration in memory of the artistic genius that was Michael Jackson. His legacy will live on.

Think of one of your favourite songs or pieces of music.
What is it about that track or tune that makes it so special?
No doubt it moves you, but why?
Think about the first time you heard it.
Was it a particularly memorable time, or place?
Were you with someone special?

Music gets some of its power from association.
It evokes emotions, which in turn embed the memory of whatever was happening at the time.
Songs become like flags on our personal trail, markers of high points, low points and other significant landmarks in between.
They are an index to our past, bookmarks of places we revisit in our minds, triggers of holographic images on the horizon when we look back.
But association is only part of music’s power.
What of the music itself?

Music acts like a tuning fork, setting off a chain of sympathetic vibrations.
In other words music speaks in the language of moods.
Either it echoes our existing moods, our inner state, or it is a catalyst for changing our moods.
And when the music matches our mood, we experience a profound sense of resonance, of being in tune with an ethereal power.
The reinforcement of our emotions has an amplification effect.
We feel more deeply, reflect more clearly.

To lose ourselves in a piece of music simply means that we are in complete harmony with it.
At times like these, music is the audible outer manifestation of our inaudible inner voice.
So in reality, we find ourselves in the music.
It only feels like oblivion sometimes because you and the music are one, flowing in the same direction at the same speed with the same destination – the beat of the rain becomes the river, the sway of the river becomes the sea.

Like the river, music not only flows but tells the story of its passage.
We relate to songs because they whisper the stories of our lives.
They speak of love’s yearning when our hearts are longing, they trumpet victory when we are triumphant, they sing the blues when we are sorrowful, they agitate for change when our blood is surging with revolution.

Sometimes the story of a piece of music is transparently clear.
More often than not, however, the real story has to be read between the lines. Songs are opaque narratives of a great unfolding mystery.
Each word, each turn of phrase, each tonal inflection, is a clue, one piece of the puzzle, a shape in the jigsaw of meaning.

What sentiment was the composer trying to convey?
What treasure did the lyricist hide behind the words?
What does the singer’s interpretation say about their own secrets?

The real enigma of music is what it tells us about ourselves.
Does a particular tune bring you to tears?
What does that say about you?
Is there a song that lifts your spirits?
Why?
What music do your family and friends like?

These are not questions to be rationalized, but musings to be lingered over.
This is not an intellectual exercise, but an intuitive workout, a soul stretching.
Music is the key to our souls.
Therefore, your choice of music, or someone else’s, is a peek through the keyhole into the most precious of inner chambers.

This ability of music to unlock the barricaded door to our hearts, to access the holy-of-holies of our souls, is at once euphorically liberating and unnervingly frightening.
It means that giving ourselves over to the art of the Muse – letting the music play us – is a risk, for we don’t know what we will discover about ourselves.
But the rewards are profound – insight, inspiration and meaning.
Will you take the risk today?

Creative Commons 2005

#12 Quote: Wildness

"We were all born to be wild and tricked into being tame."

Creative Commons 2005

#11: Poem: Space

SPACE

By Wayne Visser

Swirling with stars and galaxies
Pulsing with planets and nebulae
Asking questions without answers
Chasing beginnings without end
Echoing the distant song of creation

Sacred stories of our birth
Prophets’ warnings of our death
Ancient myths of the heavens
Chartered maps of the skies
Eternally we quest for our place

Scattered light in the darkness
Puny warmth in the deep cold
Above and beyond yet also within
Calling us to stretch and explore
Explaining everything and nothing

Spawning the fiction of science
Playing with the props of matter
Acting on the stage of time
Casting the gods of destiny
Encore! for the cosmic drama

Sparkling with secrets and fantasies
Pregnant with the possibilities of life
Always there yet never quite in reach
Creation swirls with order and chaos
Expressing our resonant inner worlds

(2005)

On Youtube: http://www.facebook.com/l/;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r-JBb0XjHOc

#10 Painting: The Hungry Wind

Creative Commons License 2009

Poem: Vortex

Spinning tops and turning wheels
Twirling dance and rhythmic reels
Churning waves and moon-spun tides
Whirling pools and dizzy rides

Rotor blades and tumble planes
Tempest moods and hurricanes
Magnet fields and milkshakes whirred
Spiral worlds and coffee stirred

Twisting rope and sunken wells
Cycle lives and woven spells
Swirling clouds and circle flight
Vortex love and spirits light

Creative Commons 2005

Youtube (Instrumental): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjjIdaYSqao

Prose: Ageing

Is ageing a blessing or a curse?
Do you rejoice or bemoan your age?
Do you look forward to getting older or fear the prospect?
We all have to make that journey through time, from starting point to destination, from birth to death.
And yet our travel experiences are all unique.
Most of us will pass through the same landscapes – of infancy, childhood, adolescence, adulthood and maturity.
And yet how we each view the scenery will be different.
Each stage en-route has its own virtues and vices – the innocence and dependence of infancy, the curiosity and tantrums of childhood, the passion and rebellion of adolescence, the productivity and routines of adulthood, and the wisdom and aches of maturity.
And yet these traits refuse to be neatly confined to our age-boxes: there is as much wisdom in youth as there is rebellion in old age; adults are no strangers to tantrums and children are productive in their own ways.
We have mythologized the life cycle, drawing on timeless archetypal images to bring meaning to the process of ageing.
At any one time, we represent the child, the warrior, the mother, the king, the old crone or the wise man.
We do not have to be defined by these symbols, but we can tap into their power any time we choose.
Which mantle are you wearing right now, irrespective of your age or socially defined role?
We tend to be conditioned about what is expected of us at any given age.
We are told to grow up or to act our age.
When we are young we covet maturity and when we are older we reminisce about youth.
It’s almost as if there is an unwritten law – thou shalt at all times be dissatisfied with thine age.
Why do we buy into this rhetoric?
Ageing is not only natural and unavoidable, it is also wonderful and beautifying.
Each passing year is an accumulated treasure of experiences.
Each new year brings fresh opportunities to learn from.
Of course every age has its restrictions and downsides, but these only overshadow the freedoms and upsides if we allow them to.
Ageing is as much a mental game as a physical one.
“How old are you?” is not nearly as revealing and important as “How old do you feel?”
You may no longer have the effervescent energy of a child, but what is stopping you from looking at the world with the awe of constant discovery?
You may not have the bottled insecurity of a teenager, but you are never too old to fall head-over-heels in love.
You may don all the trappings of a responsible adult, but you don’t have to lose the passion of your mercurial dreaming.
You may make the perfect picture of a doting grandparent, yet still be growing rapidly in mental and spiritual terms.
For as much as age is a wrinkling of the skin and a greying of the hair, it is a stretching of the mind and a colouring of soul.
Ageing is to be joyfully embraced, despite what the commercials try to brainwash us into believing.
Your age tells the story of who you are, what you’ve done, where you’ve been.
It is a fascinating story, compelling in its details, every twist in the tale worthwhile.
You need to be proud of your age, even while you refuse to let it define who you are.
For age is never static, never predictable.
Age is the flow of time.
And the only age that is real is the present.
Your true age is now.
Why not celebrate it?
Now.