So, Trump Won.

So, Trump won. 

There is a lot of debate out there on social media, cities are divided. 

Is it right or wrong? Good or bad? What is right anyway? What is wrong? 

Everyone’s 'stuff' is up, all our buttons are being pressed; anger, rage, fear, doubt, hatred, indolence, apathy…it’s all our stuff.

We can choose to perceive Trump as a bully, a bigot, a misogynistic tyrant, predator, homophobe, racist. Some see him as a great man, a leader, a creator of change and immense walls. Others see him as a man, a son, a husband, a father.

I don’t believe for one second, that the majority of America are hate-filled, angry bigots. 

Maybe the votes were rigged, Trump said that very thing, maybe it’s true? 

I believe in the goodness of people. 

His supporters are fearful, they hold scare-city within their hearts, anger, rage and a deeply rooted ancestral shame. 

Whatever is in your hearts, you will perceive outside of yourself; so this is what they see.

Trump, just like all of us, has many wounds. 

He is an archetypal concept, the Wounded Masculine, the Wounded King, an archetype of our time right now. 

Where are our leaders? Where are our fathers? Our mentors, our guides, where is the Fierce Masculine? 

Trump is a beautiful reflection of our most darkest shadows, and we can all see them! 

The Emperor’s New Clothes!

I almost want to thank him for showing up, for stepping into his power and for showing US the parts of ourselves we are unwilling or unable to love, so we can heal them!

All those parts that hate, that judge, that condemn, that despise.

The parts of ourselves that we are ashamed of, that are weak, that are vulnerable. 

These are All of our shadows.

So, Trump won?

If you are reading this, it is because you are energetically drawn to my words, our words, our consciousness.

Remember, there is only one consciousness, even Trump is a part of that divinity. 

He has lessons to teach us, let's listen.

What can we do? 

We can choose to love each other, it’s totally in your power to make a stand and say 'Yes' to love. 

Love your neighbours, love that gay couple around the corner. 

Love the Pakistani family in the flat above you. 

Love that black guy who gets the same bus as you every morning, and that Mexican woman who sells flowers on the corner of your road. 

Love that trans kid who always looks away awkwardly when you stare, and the angry single mother who always looks so tired. 

We can also choose to love that orange guy with the funny hair. 

But more importantly, go to that mirror in front of you, go look in it, see that person, love them.

We can choose love, I choose love.

My Home Town

There used to be a few esoteric shops in Reading, witchy and crystal clad. There used to be a few holistic festivals too, but they are almost all gone, apart from a few, Stardust is a good one.

Reading’s spirituality has gone. It’s like Reading has experienced soul loss. Is its chakra has been blocked? Maybe its ley lines have been crossed? Or maybe its aura has been shattered, I don’t know what has happened, but it has.

Fortunately, something has shifted, people are coming of the wood work, psychics, healers, reiki masters, shaman, artist, visionaries. The Winter Giant visited Reading last Christmas. Something magical happened, just for a while, we stepped into the mythic. A tale of welcoming with open arms and an open heart, a story of compassion and giving and love. It was beautiful.

 Winter Giant

Reading prison is now closed. It is, unfortunately, famous for holding Oscar Wilde. He imprisoned for being gay, so I am glad its closed for that very reason. But now, in his honour, it's open to the public as an art house. More interestingly, I have recently discovered that we have a hidden, lost King.

I went for a walk with my son today in Reading’s town hall museum, and found out that there is a lottery funded team, searching for the lost King.

Henry I

Reading Abbey was one of the wealthiest monastic houses in England, and one of northern Europe’s most prestigious religious centres. It was founded by Henry I, who was the son of William the Conqueror, in 1121. It later became his resting place in 1135. After his death in Normandy, his body was brought to Reading Abbey, sewn into a bull’s hide. He was laid to rest in 1136 somewhere in the grounds, and to this day, he still lays there. 

During the dissolution of the monasteries by Henry VIII, the Abbey was destroyed, leaving only a few remains. There is no record of where Henry I and his wife, Queen Adeliza are buried, only that it was in Reading Abbey, beneath a great altar.

Reading Abbey and its surrounding areas was once Readings spiritual hub, its connection to Spirit. As I watched my son run around the Forbury Gardens, it dawned on me that it still can be, a new alternative, esoteric, all inclusive, multi-faithed spirituality, we’ve just forgotten about it. 

I truly feel that we can rekindle the spiritual fire of Readings heart.

Readings Chalice, womb of our Mother Earth, Font of Forbury Gardens. Kai and I placed flowers in the water as an offering to her.

We have a stone circle, filled with water and life and all sorts, standing beautifully is a statue of shells, symbol of the Divine Feminine.

We have a mountain, Forbury Hill, we have a huge stone cross sat erect and proud, facing the entrance to the Abbey ruins, a powerful symbol of the Divine Masculine.

We have a grotto, a womb tomb, flanked by the two holy thighs of our Mother.

We even have a fairy tree, mulberry I think. An ancient and twisted and beautiful tree, a temple of nature and the nature spirits. I offered a ribbon to the branches.

The garden is guarded by a great lion, Ottorongol, Hatun Puma, Chocchinchay, the Golden Jaguar. He is a protective entity; The Lion of Reading.

When our lost King is found, I believe that a new emergence of spirituality in Reading will arise. This is my prophecy.

Reading Abbey

We already have Reading Festival, an Abbey, and now a lost King just like our King Arthur, lets create a Glastonburyesc city, a haven of spiritual freedom. Apologies to Reading Borough Council if the Forbury Gardens are over run with hippies and the trees covered in ribbons and fairy offerings, there are there, hiding, one day they will return, I’m sure of it, just like our lost King.