Elements and Ecosystems spread like fractals across the earth,

Each one a system of oneness.

Each grain of sand in a desert is an individual grain

Yet also part of the desert.

The desert contains many other things

That are also part of that system.

Same with a wave in an ocean, a drop in a river,

An eddy, a swirl.

Same with a spark, or a flame in a fire,

The bed that the fire lays upon.

Elements like air, flowing like life itself,

Like the stream of consciousness, everywhere.

Each of those elements and ecosystems

Is in turn part of the world,

Plus the world contains other things –

All together making one eco-systemic world.


The idea of being separate individuals

And at the same time all part of one – humanity

Which in turn is part of the world, the universe –

May seem convoluted or abstract at first;

But really it is simple, you can feel it.

Just sit quietly thinking about it and you will feel it –

Begin to breathe with it - It’s amazing!


The intricate whorls of nature

Fascinate me continually.

I see infinity clearly

Shining through chaotic patterns.

I see life reflected in every molecule

In its vain attempt to explain.
It rises and arises like cells of a huge skin

Or like proteins stretched in a chain.


Each individual is part of the escapade –

The perfection of the whole

Stems from its vast variation,

Each part being just as it is.

Other Poems

7th March 2002


Today I feel like a little bulb

Coming up from the soil,

Not in a terribly willing way

More in a surprised way,

Surprised to be coming into the light.


The soil is drying out

And the air holds a promise

Being stirred around gently by the wind.

The sun is here like a mother

Raising her saplings to strength.



When the seed inside you swells,

as you wake to a new winter day

with white petticoats of mist

dangling from the skies,

you feel the warmth,

the life

that seeds give us

when they swell inside;

and you hit the road

with a fantastic smile.


Waves at Hawkwood


This grass is like the sea;
I ride over it with big strides
uphill away from the spray of civilisation.
Deep breaths of green
rinse over my head and chest.


At the forest edge the water level rises;
trunks are awash with ivy.
The green sound of crows
flaps up from the valley
like wet raincoats.


Stalks bob buoyant heads
in the wind, and I take
the seed of their image
back with me towards the buildings
where roses cling to life-raft walls.


I walk in the translucent water
of silence.
The wooded hill behind the house
is a tall green wave
towering over the place.

from the book "In Touch with Water"

(note that the three lines in italics can also be a haiku)

In a Bishopswood Clearing


I am sitting in the grass with a picnic

basket and a notebook.

The children walk away from me

flick flickety off at a tangent

between thin blotched beech trunks,

then turn like yo-yos at the end of their strings

and come back to me.


Slabs of sun and shade slash

their faces as they come

but do not cut as deep as the flex

of their emotions

grappling with some

small understanding of this

place, this time, we’re in.



A Morning in Spain


I think I have swallowed

half the moon

and a couple of stars.

Cockerels are crowing but it is still dark.

Cockerels see the dawn coming

long before we do.

They recognize the colours of sunrise

painted into their tails as mementos.

They greet their old friend, the sun,

with cries of delight

which I heartily approve of

even if I do have to get up to make coffee.

The shutters of the house are open wide

to let in the first light,

just as my heart is open to the world,

and the Spanish guitar will shortly

talk to me as I sit with it on the porch

in the half dark

gradually unveiling shapes

of cats and trees and rocks as it pales

then becomes bright day.

Through the Mud


A line of robots,

we approach a wall of mud,

some of us

carrying flowers –

the others laugh

but when we enter that wall

it is the flowers

that will make us an ark

to carry us on through the darkness,

sailing through,

with our symbols the only light

until we fly

out over the fields

on the other side of midnight

and all our wires

and bits of metal fall off

and dive deep

beneath the deepest ocean –

and our souls are bright again,

so new and light

they shoot up –

up to plant our brilliant flowers

like stars

in the face of heaven.


Names of the evening


This is my friend

Who won’t tell me his name

In case we forget

Or think it was all pretence


Let’s call him “wind”

For it was real

While it touched us

In passing


Let’s call him “fire”

For it burned

In its heat

While it lasted


Let’s call him “water”

For it quenched

A great thirst

After fasting


Let’s call him “tree” and “bird”

For it was home

In its welcoming

Nested branches


Let’s call him “joy”

For it was spontaneous

And delightful

In its laughing


Let’s call him “earth”

For it was soft

And understanding

In its birth


Lets call him “mountain” and “panther”

For it was strong

And silent

In character


Let’s call him “life”

For it was all

It was meant to be



I accept the transformative journey

And fly gracefully


Outside time and space

Through gates of synchronicity


Functioning on infinite levels

Of potentiality


Stating what shall be

With joyful surrender and ease


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


I am the vehicle –

That which I create, creates me.


I embrace the divine

That is my fluid self.


That which I intend to be

Is already me.


Everything is within –

I take responsibility.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Reality has found me -

Aligned and alight


With the universal dancing mind.

I am part of its exulting heart


And breathe life free

In shimmering sparks


To manifest and express

Its ecstatic self.




When, stuck in a traffic jam

on the motorway

in the pouring rain,

all I see…

is the perfect beauty

of the pattern

that each raindrop makes

as it joins its puddle.

Each moment falls away -

I shed it like a skin

and smile and start again.


I live ten thousand years

and die each day –

Flying with the grace of change.


I touch each blissful instant

with the kiss of intuition -

Love frees itself and I.


Last night there were green leaves in my brain

Dripping with water

Like teardrops some of the time

But mostly just rain

Washing the world inside my head

Freshly while I slept.


Old things keep moving away

And always we return to each other.

Our union is as inevitable

As our very breath.

We are in this together

As a first principle.

The sun shines down

On young green leaves

Shivering with glad acceptance

But not so glad as I –

Struck by a reverence

For the processes of life

There’s always the possibility

Of redemption

If you stick with love


Little Moons


Somewhere out of the brutal furnace

Comes the light of the flame rousing

Us back to heartfelt humanity just before

The moment we would have plunged into the coals.


Somewhere out of pain and anger comes

An impossible hope that things could change

And that we might be a small part of it –

Our voices and efforts little moons in the night time.


Mist lies over the river

like the icy breath of winter angels.

Darkness gathers round... and it is beautiful.

Thank you for this life, this death,

whatever it is you are

that makes us finally see.

Julia has had many books of poetry published, and has worked around the UK and abroad
in schools and festivals etc, and on radio and TV.

Professional Poet
(includes demo readings)

She is involved with Poetry, Art, Creative/Spiritual/Environmental Networking,
and is also a Therapist.






Cosmic Breath & Out There