And I whisper softly

And I whisper softly

Youre welcome

Breathe lightly to transform please

This human heart flesh, breath and bone

Show me a way beyond whats my way

And within these times unfold

Fresh pathways through lifes mysteries

And guide this spirit home

Yahweh welcome.

For I am scrolling more, engaging less

Consuming by the score

While refusing to digest,

I see anothers flaws

And ignore the consequences of my choices

Youre welcome

Roll back my stone

Remake a home within me

Yahweh come

Whisper again

On winds of change restore me

For I whisper softly you’re welcome

Upon wings of change restore me

As inch by inch I move along

Sweet Love please run towards me.

And within Your pace unfold

Fresh pathways through lifes mysteries

And guide this spirit home

Yahweh come.

The more harm I do, the less calm I get

Wading through life’s courses

Immersed in living, I forget

How deep and wide your Loving voice is.

You’re welcome

Make me your song

Refresh and breathe within me

Yahweh come

Make me your home

With love filled hope complete me

My livin'
Yahweh come.

Yahweh has come

Before I whisper softly Yahweh comes.

Beauty is always here.

I am


currently slowly reading and pondering over some of the wonderful message given to this world by Hazrat Inayat Khan. Upon this continuing nexus of change he soothes by reminding the deep that:


‘It is the greatest relief to forget, it is like bathing in the Ganges.

The present has so many beautiful things to offer us;

if only we open our eyes to look at them

we do not need look for beauty in the past.

Beauty is always here.’


(page 198 of The Sufi Message of Hazrat Inayat Khan, vol V111)


Astorga to Rabanal: Camino day one

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Julian Campo (Chelin) of  Rabanal Del Camino

was a rich and successful businessman who became deeply changed by his walk along The Camino de Compostella.

At the age of 50 he left Burgos with seven horses and journeyed to Calcutta where he spent his time, money and energy tending to the sick and the poor alongside Mother Theresa.

When he returned home to Galicia he’d lost so much weight that friends and family didn’t recognise him. This statue sits quietly within the little village of Rabanal de Compostella.

At the age of 54, with 20 kms under my belt and 252 more to go,  I slump slightly beside the granite rock of Julian. I touch his cool forehead  and hope that he may transmit some radical change in me.

Picking up my sticks, I decide to stop shaving and through the slow blink of this first noon day sun, Julian continues to look blankly ahead.