Dear Pogue, So, you paused and listened when you came to the end of the last letter? What happened? Did you wait in stillness and silence? Silence really is the language of God and I hope that you’re learning that. But, assuming we agree that there is substance to the secret, what are we going … Continue reading What we going to do with the secret?
Month: November 2019
Let me tell you a secret.
Dear Pogue, Right back at the start, in our first exchange of correspondence, words on paper, ink, messy finger prints (what would a letter be without a blotch or two?) uneven margins, you remember? Well we committed to our own personal attempt at a revolution. One that we would have for fun, spurred on and … Continue reading Let me tell you a secret.
Be your own cool.
Dear Pogue, You remember that place that only I know the way to? Back in the day? Well, back in this most magical of places, I would always hurry home on a Friday to catch a programme called Happy Days. No “Catch Up TV” then! Anyway, there was a character called the Fonz, and, back … Continue reading Be your own cool.
Where does it come from?
Dear Pogue, What no letter! A whole week without an envelope of inspiration landing on your door mat and calling to you: “Open me, open me”. It wasn’t that inspiration dried up. No, rather inspiration took annual leave whilst I sat around feeling sorry for myself. Let me explain. I had helped to look after … Continue reading Where does it come from?
Get a real job.
Dear Pogue, The last letter I sent you, I don’t understand how other people got to read it. Was it sealed when it arrived? Putting this mystery aside, some of those who read it said nice things so I guess, all in all, we got a win (someone even suggested there’s a book in all … Continue reading Get a real job.
Byron’s Pool
Dear Pogue, You might know this feeling. Some days I just need to walk with nature as my companion. To leave behind all that life has put on me and immerse myself in a different vibe, a different vibration. Something restoring, something energising, something pure. To this end I walked down to the river, a … Continue reading Byron’s Pool
Letters To Pogue 
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