The banjo busker and the living dead

Today at the cross roads of Fore Street a busker was playing and singing blue grass. He was alive, taking his passion, the thing that lights him up into the open and showing who he was. It didn’t matter if he fluffed a few notes or his voice was a bit rough. That music was floating out of him like some sort of magic potion that brought dead people back to life.

Here was his vulnerability and here was his song, he was just being who he was and sharing his soul, his gift. It was priceless.

But the people walking past in their expensive shoes couldn’t hear the music, they were blocking it out because of fear. If they heard it, they might feel it and the heart they had been keeping locked up, the heart that had endured the job that they hated would start to feel again. That job that they mindlessly turned up to because for this precious week of the year they could enjoy a holiday. This was the golden week. It was here and it was too late because they couldn’t see the sunlight and they couldn’t hear the music, they couldn’t see the texture of the clouds or the way their children desperately wanted to spend time with them, to be seen, to play.

They were shuffling past like zombies on the way to buy something to numb the pain of living while dead and to make them feel worthwhile.

Nearly 1,000 people past by that busker. If they had each given him a £1 they would have all been so much richer today. What do people value, is being brought back from the dead worth a coin ?, pay the busker or the ferryman, choose life or death. Living while dead was never part of the plan.

As I stood there on the corner watching I wanted to give up on humanity. I could feel the tears well up and I wanted to walk away.

Then one old woman looked up and smiled, she looked me in the eye as if we were in on a secret. We could hear the music. There was hope.

A passing Welsh family who still had blood moving through their body picked up on the tune of ‘Land of my Fathers’ and stirred awake.

Welsh dad started to sing in harmony with the banjo busker, he had thrown out a line into the crowd and made a connection. There was hope.

It takes just one lifeline to make the change and awaken the people in the crowd. Voices connect, eyes connect.

Hearts start beating, feeling. They look up and notice the blue of the sky.


Don’t give up

Don’t give up


Day three of dreaming and another insight into my deeper darker unconscious.

My dreams tend to come in threes and occur around the first quarter of the moon when it’s around 50% illuminated. Half dark, half light like the yin and yang symbol. It’s a powerful time, maybe even more so than a full or new moon.

For me it shows me what is out of balance, where my fears are. How I’m really feeling deep down and brings the shadow into the light.


Last nights dream involved me leading some school kids through the secret subterranean tunnels under the cinema, through some toilets and out into the air. Going through deep hidden passageways. In one toilet I had found a family of rats which had just given birth and were in danger of being trodden on so I scooped them all up and gently placed them inside my jumper to take them to safety. In the in-between state of sleep and awake I could feel their tiny claws grabbing on to my skin.* I also returned to a former job again underground to finish some paperwork but was send on an errand by my long dead boss to gather ingredients to make a Jamaican fruit cake for a party.

I think I have pieced together all the information over the last few nights dreaming and I understand the messages.

Please don’t be afraid of your dreams and nightmares, they are an invaluable learning tool.

* In Shamanic terms it’s possible for negative energy to become attached to our energy body and feed from it. This causes loss of energy, depression and illness. The negative energy often takes the form of an animal/humanoid or other strange shape which clings to the energy body, In this case baby rats. It allows the Shaman to see the energy and remove it, removing the illness.

Shamanic healing is removing the things that do not belong with us and restoring the things that do. Bringing back a piece of a broken heart that you have left with a lover or a soul fragment that left your body through trauma. Returning you to wholeness and bringing back all of your pieces.

By journeying in the Astral planes and dream world I could see the negative energy attach to my body and I could remove it. I could also see the behaviour that attracted it. The dream world for me is a bit like bathing for my soul.