Four countries in two days..

Have had a rather strange couple of days..Started out in Denmark on Sunday night jumping in a truck destined for somewhere in Germany..I had absolutley no concerns that by morning I would be in Belgium..hmmm..things dont quite work out how you plan sometimes..

Firstly I woke yesterday morning .. in a truck. Havnt done that before, and you can imagine it took me a few moments to realise where I was and when I had that figured the question then beckoned was - why I was ... where I was.

Another few hours down the road..which I might add was basking in a beautiful cloudless spring sky..(Ihavtn been in a car, on a road, in the sun for many many many moons..and my eyes hurt)..I was dropped out of the truck, and the only thing I knew was that I had to head to the right. No compass, so mere personal navigation based on prior teaching of which side of my body was which, was all I had.

I was in germany for the first time..near.. a town called Essen, in what is the most bizarre collection of small communities, too proud of their own small population to admit that this was one mega city made up of the cram of todays modern societies..and I was heading right. when I turned to the left things got more fun.

Two hours down the road I had arrived .... somewhere. At least it had a train station. so time to head for that elusive place - Belgium. I got a train, made the call and arranged to be picked up on the other side of the ferry after a bus from Sittard, my train stop.

Well, I didn't get picked up because I wasn't there. A two hour train ride with four changes turned into a five hour mission. Germany's trains are a bit sad to say the least. After the first hours delay, I was sitting on the platform amongst the second hour delay when I realised, for the first time in my travels that I did not know which country I was in. I arrived on a German train but was sitting looking at a Holland train. Had my German train entered Holland or this Holland train entered Germany.

This curiosity was too great, I was lost in the nether-regions of the Nederland(s) - (or was it Deutchland(s) ). I had to ask someone the strangest question they would have ever heard.

At this particular time I was reserved to finding a nice corner to spend the night as my ride was well and truly missed, and I was in a state of tranquility with little concern as to where and what I was doing. I picked a person - and of course they cackled their little way through telling me I was in the land of the Orange Tulip.

Turns out I could not have asked a better person, for upon further conversing, he was a student in Maastricht and offered a couch and a meal. So now I am fed, well slept and on my accross the border .. again. Four countries in two days, weird.


tim out

one more thing...

the sun is shining on Denmark!!!

Andreas Åbling Petersen

....... Let me introduce you to Andreas Åbling Petersen . . .


The first time I spoke to him he said, "I have a friend in Australia, Peter Kidman, maybe you know him?". This is often said, but with Andreas there was a glimmer of hope in his voice, he was serious. I got an idea as to who he would be.

His favourite motto is "If you dont have what you need, then use what you have." I saw this put into practice when we attached what looked like a mid to late 13th century trailer, to his original 1954 tractor and literally, took it for a walk.
It must have sat in the one place since shortly after production 700+ years ago, until now, for both tyres had a hard, flat edge and looked quite comfortable where they were. Giving me a good idea as to how hard it must have been before the wheel was invented.
This tonne of steel and rotten wood ... bounced ... down the track (which was lined 20ft high of what some people would consider junk, (but to him it may be useful one day) rocking the tractor from side to side with him inside.
I was following in a van with Paul, a good friend of his that spoke no english, but luckily for us there was no time for any conversation as the image in front of us was keeping us in a fit of laughter, tears welling both for the sight in front and the lack of videoa camera.
When the wheels finally locked up, it dragged, gouging great canyons into the muddy Danish path under the load. The trailor had prior issues with the corner it seemed, for it wouldn't co-operate at all, which is when he got out of his shell of a rusting machine and said... "we'll just leave it here". And that we did.

Yesterday, I got to watch him juggle four languages with an ignorant Aussie who speaks scattered (or more realistically) next to zero languages and should work on his English (apparently), two Germans and one from Latvia, and Andreas bursting into a stream of roarkess laughter, when he catches me laughing away, catching him speaking German to me, Danish to the Latvian or Latvian or English to the German, or a mix of all four. Then finish it off with his Latvian phraze - "Loti Vienkarsi (it's very simple), but I am tired... I Æ Å..."

We were standing on the waters edge of Denmark when I mentioned the setting sun over the ocean..without a break of contemplation this 68.146 year young man returned, "I've often though of digging an ocean on my farm".

He calls himself an Organic Peasant.

Host and founder of an annual art-symposium on his farm; for painters, wood carvers or just anyone who wants to be a part of igniting the spark of a place full of such tremendous energy, he welcomes all.

There are too many stories and classic scenarios each day to list from this man who has spent 30 years building a stone wall around his house and has planned to rob the local bank at Bredebro, this is the first time, but I have to continue to write them down.

A real activist for what he believes from way back, he was booted from the Danish Liberal Party, founded the Free Farmers Union and an annual human aid program to Latvia.

He is a star shining so brightly its no wonder he is a member of the Danish Blind Society, a soul screaming so loudly its also no wonder you have to scream back for him to hear.

And discovering only two years ago that a long time friend is actually his daughter has just made this gem even more delirious with love!

A True Legend!

Andreas Åbling Petersen

If any of you pass through the South - West Region of Jylland, Ol' Vikingville, drop him a line and I am sure he will welcome you if you welcome him into your day.

Christiania - a shattered dream

I do miss my little hut in the woods of Sweden..

I left with the image in my head of a free hippe commune inthe centre of Copenhagen. )as was described to me by Dina, and lovely Finish visitor). Upon hearing about it, I immediately decided to papck my bags and head on down, looking for work for food and bed, but more to meet and mingle with some like´minded people in life.

I walked the hour or so from the train station, not stopping to look or emmerse myself in copenhagen in any way, as I didnt quite like the bustle after the sleepy sway of the forest. I did have a small gift though and found myself walking alongside a bunch of school kids on a stroll through the streets. 8 or 9 years old, full of life, laugfhter and positive energy, and well, I found comfort by their side.

But upon walking through the Gates of Christiania, first erected in '71 as a push against anything anti´social, and all I dound was a haven for drug pushers, fires in the street with some dodgy looking characters standing around and simply a very dark and dire place. I had told myself I would sit and wait and see what heppened, so I did. But the only response or approach I got was fgrom a friendly but hungry dog. One smile from what looked like one of tghe original members of such a place, but the rest was colourless and quite a cold emotion.

It seemed to be the place that now has become a simple backdoor hangout of those looking for a bit of loitering. A touch dissapointing considering the dream i had in mind od a wonderfully colourful atmosphere of freedom.

So I dragged myself sourly to the YHA and handed over a large percentage of what I have left for a bed and then learned that Christiania the 'commune' was raided and shut down by the fearful politicians.

So now where..??

tim out but not down..

My time in the Swedish self created retreat has come to an end..

a beautiful time watching the snow gather and fade away returning to the rain.and now the many tones of brown have been re-born..along with a lovely layer of ice where the snow was compressed by walkers..the confidence and grace of the stroll has left, now I am negotiating this new surface..arms flayling(??) in the air like I just dont care..aah, but I do you see I like my arse the shape it is and the hard flat and ice cold surface may just put it well out of its rounded beauty..just like the wind changed the old ladies face..I dont wish to find out if the ice will do the same to my cheek..left or right (very big !! ). just like I dont want to find out if the electric fence is live or not..

I said to myself that I would sit and await the full moon, watch the full cycle from this wooded area and it is upon me tomorrow night I believe.

My wood has depleted. I must abandon ship.

To where? I have heard through the random meetings of visitors to my little abode that there is a commune right in the centre of Copenhagen, a *free town* which began in the hippie age and is now open to all. I shall head there, with the full moon above, and sit and wait.

Sweden was amazing! I will leave the day of the full moon, for I know if I see it, I will be here for its three day phase and I must depart..

Be Happy

tim out

a thought..

This constant talk of past, present and future is more practical and obvious than I understood earlier.

On an intellectual level, I always realised that there was no reality aside from the present moment, but thee is a much deeper philosophy behind it than a mere intellectual understanding of time. And it is so practical, possibly the most practical understanding of self and surrounds one could have.

I have always spoken, to myself and to others about not living within the illusion. But I never had an understanding about what the illusion really was. Continually asking myself "what is the matrix?" I would put in down to breaking free from societys' grasp, free from the control of money and power and free from a need to social stature. The illusion is all of these but there is something vibrating so much deeper at the base of it all, and so much more obvious.

Everybody should regularily give themselves time to really contemplate what is real for them, what is truth.

In my contemplation and readings and meditation over the past year, there was one thing continuing to echo. And it wasn't until very recently that my mind and awareness clicked and made sense of it all. The realisation came about reading about Death. And it all became to clear.

Death is the key to truly living in the present. And The illusion is that of Permanence.

As much as people will say that they live for the present and in the present, without a real solid and true understading and acceptance of Death, it is quite impossible to do so. As much as you try to live in the present, your mind will constantly have the draw back to the future..."retirement, career, holiday, clothes, money...when will he stop rambling so I can get another beer?" all elements of the future.

The statement, "I may get hit by a bus tomorrow" is often used but is rarely understood. You may! And until you truly accept that you may, you will continue to have your mind secured firmly in the future. Or in the past, but both are fictional.

Milarepa spoke about a "deathless nature of mind". And until that is lived there will be no present moment. And we all will continue to live within the illusion of Permanence. I am not saying that I have a deathless nature of mind, but I now understand that route that needs to be taken to develop such a thing. Which everyone should give themselves the opportunity to do so.

Impermanence must be experienced.

tim out

What I was waiting for!!

Day 11 in Söderäsens brought a wonderful sky full of fluttering little friends all trying desperately to get to the ground to play their part in carpeting this many tones of brown forest with a single tone of wishful white..

For hours and hours it snowed. Winter is upon us in Sweden. Thew temperature dropped dramatically over night. The windows frozen, the door stiff. and the forest is now changed into itsd angelic winter state!

Every now and then, as you walk through the thick white, you can spot little patches of brown where my little birds from last weeks have come and pulled together thweir forces to up turn the snow in search of the daily meals. Where they havn't upturned the snow they have groomed it for a more comfortable stroll for the two legged upright visitors.

I can say quite confidently now that it is here to stay.

The one other thing I was waiting for in Sweden after 12 or 13 days was the moon, and on the same eve as the snow it also shone its graceful silver sliver dance in the sky, illuminated by the distant and powerful ball of flame we all so desperately depend upon.

I'll keep saying it until I am told to leave (and even then, but with a clenched fist toward the evictors - no..not really, I'll smile at them with pleasure for the time I have had - and maybe apologise for the now dwindling wood supply, but it is there for winter right? this is very much winter).....---where was I?

---This is a Beautiful Place!!!

for now

tim out

A little gift for a man in solitude..

Saturday, day no.8 or 9 or something...Söderäsens National Park..

as many days without a sighting of another person amongst the trees I had emersed myself into. I was seated at my fire after a quick trip into tn for some supplies, just getting settled into my routine of relaxation in front of my fire when I heard a sound at the front door of this little hut. Immediately I feared the worst and my heart jumped into my throat, forestry commission..they've found me!!?? I'll be evicted for sure (for I am basically squatting in this little place with the open fire)
I listened as the footsteps took the same route I had the first time I came through the front. Around to the right, through the orm room of ply sheet wooden beds, into the kitchen and of course the push came at the door to my leftand through it came a flock of song birds in disguise as a bunch of theatre, film and graphic students from a nearby town.

The first was along haired, moustached cowboy as surprised at seeing me as I was at seeing him, the rest merged and peered over his shlder until the doorway was full of faces looking into the room I had so purposefully made my temporary home.

Foam matress folded in three, supported at the back by three chairs to make a comfortable back rest, food all over one table, paper all the rest and my books and the like spread around me. It would have been a sight I would imagine, bearded looking 'bushman' (they later donned me) sitting in his striped thermal underwear crowded with his essentials..

I was later informed that the evening ended at about 5am, with many hours spent gathering around a raging fire, laughs, food, song and beer to keep the night from dwindling..

A wonderful gift for a man in solitude..

The only downfall was the first hangover I had had in many a week..oooh, it was bad..

but well worth it!

Thankyou to you all if you ever read this..(and I still only knowthree of their names)

tim out

How do I end up in these places??

with much gratitude!

My second day in this wall-ed hut in the company of my fallen and flourishing friends of this deciduous forest, I had a moment of doubt as to whether this is where I am meant to be right now. With the fire going, I sat unable to read, unable to relax and enjoy peace, forgetting the unpredictable steps that brought me to this place and the excitement I had the day before.

This in mind I gazed out the window to observe what I assumed at the time to be the wind blowing gales and carrying with it a multitude of autumn leaves that have layered the floor of this dense forest, but as I peered out the window closer, I could see no effects of the winds in the canopy of the bare trees, still though, the sky was full of a dense congregation of fast flying objects filling the overcast sky.

Closer observation revealed that the sight I was seeing was a mass migration of thousands of little finch like birds with their wings flapping at a rate of knots undetectable to the naked eye and then ceasing to let the little creature fall slightly before being caught once more of the urgency of the flap.

I stepped outside into the raging torrent of a river of life above and stood in awe of what I was witnessing, firstl with the knowledge that I was the only person observing such a sight, and secondly fering that they would spot me and dive with acute accuracy and with their little bombs splatter me in a see of white poo. (actually this never came to mind, but the sheer number of them could have fattened if they so desired) The surge continued for a solid fiften minutes, waves but still a constant flow, all seeking refuge among th forest floorwhere they sat in community and scrummaged for insects. Spreading the leaves in a dance of little gusts of wind. Thousands upon thousands of the converged and if I took a step closer a whole hord would leave the rou creating mini hurricanes and a thunderous sound.

And still the river flowed above.I was counting a thousand every 15 or so seconds. You could see frequent little battles above as they qsueezd their mass population in the small sky. Swooping. Ducking. Diving. Attack and Evade.

I was very grateful I had my moment of doubt at that time which allowed me to gaze ou the window!

be happy

tim out

5 nights...

I once got a message from a friend of mine who was in the UK entitled - 5 nights in the life of Mark (but it was all in capitals, for he seems to have a phobia of the shift button, so as soon as a letter should be in caps, the rest of the whole message is also in caps..LOVE YA MARK!

anyhoo..this is five nights in the life of Tim.

After leaving Amsterdam, with a much better opinion of the place than the last time I was here, I jumped on an overnight bus up to Copenhagen (much to my confusion at one point, awaking on a ferry - which I wrote about briefly in my blog). Copenhagen, or Kopenhavn is a seriously expensive town, so got me little backside out of there right quick.

At the train station I was looking for a way up north to a wwoofing farm at the tip of Denmark, but with a sense of uncertainty about this destination, even while in the process of looking at ticket prices, I was open to suggestion. When I jumped on my email and saw contact details for a friend of a friend in Sweden I figured 'why not?'.

So two hours later I was in Sweden. How easy it is to travel between countries over here!

Sitting in Helsingborg after the ferry, I knew I couldn't go straight to this place, as I had only just dropped them a line, in the mean time...I sat.

I sat and waited, for what I did not know. I wanted to get to a camp site 10km south, but how? I continued to sit, for it is what I felt I should have been doing. My answer will come, which it did. within about half an hour, doubt started to set in about my sitting, until a bus drove by with Räa, my destination plastered on the front and #1 was my bus. There it was.

On the bus I met my first Swede, a man with a glint in his eye of happiness. Pure happiness for his job, his life and himself. He was the most encouraging bus driver with an enthused Hi Hi! to everyone who entered, not the 'hmmph' you would normally recieve in the big cities I know of. A good sign I felt. He was doubtful that I should be camping in winter, in Sweden, I wasn't. Until I found the campsite situated on a beautiful beach front on the west coast, with a fresh northerly wind blowing and closed. Why? I thought, wouldn't anyone want to enjoy this? That night was spent in a deluxe hostel with two guests - I was beginning to get the idea that there is no tourist industry in January in Sweden. What a sleep! With the double bed all myself, I opted for the floor - my back cant take beds anymore..

The next day dawned and I had no idea where I was meant to be going. So I searched for the nearest place to pitch my tent. Söradesäns National Park sprang to my attention.

At 4pm, light dwindling, I stood at the entrance, a train and a bus later, no longer with my rucksack, as I traded it for a duffle bag to throw an different element into the way I would travel, I looked at the many tones of light brown which would slowly become one tone of black in front of me and started walking.

About half an hour in figured anywhere which si flat, everywhere was wet. I spotted my site - across the other side of the three brach river at my side. With no time I had to find a place to cross. Two bags, three crossings, which would equate to nine little dips. Shoes off, in. and wow! A river crossing up to my waist - January - Sweden. With my tent pitched and my legs thawed I realxed and meditated.

Two nights spent pitched here I was meandering through the lush forests, greenery abundant on the mossy rocks and the autumn browen not yet left, and I stumbled across a warm candle glowing in the dense wet world. A hut in the middle of nowhere with a sign translated into english saying 'Stay for free, keep it clean'.

I am writing this - transcribing from my notebook - sitting in front of a strong but small fire, by candlelight, in my own lodging - shadows dancing on the walls surrounded by nothing but the welcoming sway and roar of the wind through the neighbouring trees, with the knowledge that I can stay here through the whole winter until my time to return to Belgium on the 10th March arrives.

So I shall .... await the snow and enjoy the peace, for I know that no-one else will arrive to share this little golden ray of sunshine with me. But if someone does, I will welcome them as much as I felt welcomed.

A shop is two hours walk away, food is not a problem. You can live for a long time on soup, bread, lemon water and my little combustable cooker. And the Bibliotek, which I am seated now, amongst the company of many primary school kids who are continually coming and asking me what I am doing, with the only reply I can give them being a smile and hand signals, they stand there staring as confused as me. There seems to be no issue of age difference in communication when neither of you speak the same language, good times!

So back to my little paradise and I will write again at some stage..

Be Happy

Much Metta

tim out

2007 and beyond!

Welcome people to the brand new year!!

Trusting you all saw it in, in style!

My welcome was spent in the surrounds of the magnificently energised Dhamma centre in Belgium. A beautiful way to being in the new year! Meditating amongst the like minded in silence..

The manic flip through and out of Scotland was, as expected, manic..but all in all, perfectly executed! I spent christmas day in such a small little village in the western region, outside Gent, in a cosy wee pub, as this was the only place open - even the accomodation I had sought had shut down for the festivities, so the pub was the only option and once again I spent time in a lovely family atmosphere of the local, just down the road - you know the one, conversing by a means of hand signals, pen to paper, music and the ever trusting eyebrows..

Then onto Vipassanar after a few nights in my tent with the only visitors being the police thinking I was a gypsy - which upon reflection, I am.. Vipassanar - absolute magic. To try and put words to the 10 days there would be demeaning to the experience.

And once again, timing was perfect, as I then was off to Amsteradm to stay in a 1920s converted cargo ship-house boat in the Amsterdam harbour with Peter Den Dekker - classicly Dutch, Chi Kung teacher, accupuncturist. Time to be treasured, really, thankyou Peter! Much luck to you my friend, you're quite inspiring!

Im in Denmark now, on my way to a real winter in sweden. Caught a bus, as was dramtically cheap and I was too lazy to stick out the thumb. Was a touch confusing when at 3am we pulled in to what I thought was a pit stop for some food. Off the bus was with a 5 minute timelimit, or so I thought. I scaled the staircase to find myself in a bussling shopping centre. The disconcerting thing was to be the lack of ability to walk in a straight line. I hadnt has enought to drink to be in this state for weeks, but put it dopwn to waking up in the bus in an inverted yogi poisition, vertical, legs on the window. Got me a drink, ran down the stairs to resume the ride only to find the bus in some sort of loading bay surrounded by trucks, all locked up. It was then that I realised that I was on a ferry..muchos confusion for a momento..but it did explain the swaying..when I disembarked in Copenhagen at 6am, pitch black, my newly bought - cheap as deluxe french fries dripping in cheese curd and gravy, literally, its a piece of .... - mp3 player pulled out dee dum dee dum dum - " I'm on the road again!!"

Kopenhavn. Lots of rain. Time to leave now.

Metta to all my dear friends!

tim out..

slow road?

a touch of an understatement..

This site has been somewhat re-vamped. Changes are subtle in design, but large in concept. To anyone who may be reading this now, it is more of a personal diary for the whole world to read- if they so desire..

My last week in the UK has been manic to say the least - and it is only half way done. Visiting a few dear friends before I run was the goal and it has taken its toll.
Saturday night was in the midst of a mass party at Leckmelm..
thankyou Lucy for all your kindness and beauty, I'll look out for you in the next Cosmo.. ;)
James you are an inspiring fella for whom I will be forever grateful to for introducing me to the wonder of the stone..
Alex..it may have been alcohol induced, but I meant it..come to Denmark..
Then back to Skye..
Joel, Dede, Daisy and of course Binks and Poo!! you wonderfully beautiful people (and dogs)! I love you all and will miss you dearly. Food will never be at the same pace again..
Jamie, I tried man! you work too hard, have a break. will see you in April.

today I hitched back to glasgow from skye, then onto Edinburgh tomorrow and to Belgium on Saturday..have you ever felt that hitching is much like speed dating? in the rides in between the rest you have mere moments to get the to know the person you share this time with. Its always a touch exciting wondering who it will be who will pick you up. And when they turn out to have as much to say as you, it turns into a gabble of turkeys all scrapping for the same pile of grain. And oh how much fun it is.

but today was magnificent. The first three rides came without mr being able to put my bag down from the last ride. Instant pick up and I made it the distance in less time than it would have taken to get to the airport, go through customs, drink as much as possible and babble your way through passport check of the next airport. And so much more fun!

till soon comes about..

tim out

Back to Carsaig

So, on Monday i will be returning to the beach where it all began.

Thge Isle of Mull, Carsaig Bay.

For the past couple of months I have been aquiring myself a few days here and there, predominantly there, working in various positions of general hand and labour. This coming Mondqay I have secured myself a spot helping restore a heritage listed castle on Mull. This particaular castle - Moy it is called, it one bay east of Carsaig at Lochbuie.

When I heard about this place, I immediately felt drawn toward it. Finish it where it all began I was saying. Moy Castle, then Carsaig.

Restore one construction made by man, then for the final time before it gets to dfamn cold, restore another made by......

I thankyou all who participated in this wee crusade..be it absolutely anything related..even a small passing thought or wonder..

Be well!!

tim out

After 160 Days...

To the people out there who may read this..

After 180-odd Days and..can I remember?..13 or 14 beaches..15 odd miles of Scottish Coastline..and at least the same figure in tonnage of "flotsum and jetsum" removed, I can not longer bare the thought as to where all this rubbish is ending up.

I was sitting on the edge of my latest beach on the Isle of Skye munching on my packed lunch when I got to be holding an empty plastic bag in my hands. My instinctive thought was to add it to my bags of rubbish. My mind then tracked the path of this one, small, plastic bag. I followed it and the collections process from the beach, to the skip, on the truck, the miles on the road and to our acceptable and so called "responsible" waste disposal system, to finally end up in a landfill. Thats the solution. How does that make any sense? Bury it.

Let's disect that term "land" "fill". Digging a great big hole in the land and filling it with Rubbish and rubbish simply being a word to describe that which we no longer use, or want. Packaging - filling the majority of landfills today - is included in this. Madness. Why is it that the bag we buy our oats in can not be used again? Why do we consider our waste, worth wasting? a one use, disposable society is wasted. Not the actual items, it is ourselves.

If we were to create our own individual landfills in our backyards (literally - your homes) it would not be an acceptable solution, would it? Let's all go and dig a hole on our turf, land which we apparently 'own', land on which we live land on which we build our home, and fill it with rubbish. It is inconcievable really. So why not dig an even bigger hole, somehwere out of the way and fill it with everybodies rubbish, that way we dont have to deal with it and we can wipe our hands clean - literally - after taking out our bags. It is sorted. but it is not. It is wasted.

Everything and I mean everything included in the 15 tonnes removed from Scotland waters edge can be used again, and again, and again. I have said this before, I have made this rant. But still, after many months it makes no sense to me.

Our waste solution is pathetic, is it the best that an advanced society as ourselves can come up with.

It is a joke.

some tough cookies to crack...

we didn't inherit the land from our parents....we are simply borrowing it from our children...
-Amish Saying



this was a two metre slab of what I could guess at being tar or solidified oil from a mass burn off on the beach, it took and hour to excavate and then the process went to a wee bit of demolition by wooden spike..






this springy rubber thing snaked under and above the ground for about 30 feet, was a right bitch, but was not defeated, it did not belong there, so I was determined...







and of course...the "bio-degradable" plastic bag..the only thing that will break down is my mind...its not going anywhere, just into a million little pieces to sit there for eternity....what a waste of resources to develop and to create a society so dependant on - plastic








your ego desires to be heard...
your self waits to be discovered.

one by one
day by day

Steady perseverence alone will tame the mind.

This mission on the coasts of scotland has attracted a large amount of attention, yet the expected results have not seemed to eventuate.....yet.

Unless you are willing to take the risk, to have a go, to fail miserably, and have another go, success won't happen.

In the past weeks, I have felt drained and detached from the possibility of achieving this goal in the fundraiser. This has been due to the unexpected poitical and bureaucratical mess and the medias distraction from what is important and latching onto this story as a damn "peoples' tabloit scoop", and the never ending "flotsum and jetsum" that continually washes ashore.

But, In light of this, I will not give up. In fact I am more determined to push the fundraiser now than ever. It is a worthy cause. And it is possible, even inevetable if I care enough about the result.

"Nothing is created suddenly, any more than a bunch of grapes or a fig"
- Epictetus

hello all,

this is just a quikie to say that my latest beach completion - The Gauldrons at Machrihanish #6..is complete. the beach is sparkling, the waves are definately crashing in and on this last day I sat in Scotlands sunshine on this dramatic coastline reading some 'Zen Words', 'Compelling Reason' and 'The Truth'

from here...there may be a slight break in communication as I will now be employed for a couple of weeks farming on the green pastures among the mighty power of the cattle (unbeknowenst to them)and the lack of individuality of the sheep (beknowenst to them). From there I shall head down to Eng-Land to reinlist myself on the grid by aquiring a piece of identification I have not had for many months and then I shall be in introspect among strangers at another meditation retreat. So, the beaches are put on hold as I take care of some admin and some time to centre myself after some manic months.

after 84 out of 103 (ish)nights in my tent, the last four with the inability to lie on my back, stomach and side - a inebriated slip into a semi large crevass amongst rocks took care of that - the next ..... some will be in the comforts of matress, maybe. I do like my little tent.

So unless I get shat on by a cow, charged by a sheep who has a moment of inspiration and revolution, fall of a roof (or another cliff), stuck in the mud, or any other mishap to chuckle about, I shall speak to you all later..

take care

tim in (for now)