Cha. 4 Morning rituals

We all, after getting up in the morning, do some things that should or do bring us to a state of being awake (or whatever passes for that). 


For me, this morning routine, waking up, breakfast and so on, is part of the makeup of each special day. 
If you think about it, you probably do this in a particular order to bring about the sense of well being and normality. 


Read the news or watch the reports on a favorite T.V. channel. This being part of a routine and even ritual in a way. 
If incorporating outside factors into the routine, those other sources have to have been instilled as a sort of trusted part of the mornings procedures, leading to the point you can walk out of the door with an air of a person who has not just fallen out of the dark side of hell, but with a beautiful feeling and a wonderful smile.


Well, start the day. What do you use to spark of a wonderful beginning to each tropical breakfast, before setting out for the days adventure?


For me, it begins with just getting up. The moment I realize that the night is gone, it's time to do something other than squeeze out the last bit of shut-eye, in the remaining few minutes of interrupted slumber.

It's morning; I tip-toe out of bed so as not to wake my wife and baby nestled in her arms. Last nights party of milk bottles and nappy changes still fresh in mind. Stepping carefully out of door to the kitchen, following Puki (our pet doggy) who often charges out with me to complete his own morning ablutions.


I put the kettle on, start some bread in the toaster and retire to the bathroom for my own ten minute morning bodily needs. After washing my hands and heading back to the kitchen, I make a pot of tea to go with my plain white toast. 


It's 6:00 AM, I have my chill-out music playing on a portable touch pad, which altogether with my breakfast are placed onto a table set next to a retro 60's garden lounge chair and then make ready my pipe for the next hours dawn scenery gazing delight.


Traditionally, I am a cigar or cigarette smoker. A pipe I had believed to be for absolute retirement, accompanied by slippers and an old Labrador. 
I have an old second hand Alco pipe, I bought this in a Welsh charity shop for 50 pence during the time we were there during of the birth of my son. 
It's one of the most delightful smokes I have ever experienced. The taste, the coolness of the smoke flavored with the cherry wood pipe bowl, is all it takes for me, in the first 15 minutes of the morning to reach euphoria.

I light up my pipe with a brass Zippo my wife got me as a 40th birthday present. 


It's simply wonderful. 


After I begin to smoke, my meditation state begins. The still tropical early morning noises filter into my hearing, birds, frogs, crickets, joyously cheering in the dawn.


Before I know it, after sipping the smoke, the pipe has gone cold. I've forgotten all about it and I began to chew my toast and drink my tea, my mind free and wondering. 


In my meditation, thoughts, reflections, memories, friends faces, conversations, all mingle into a filmography of recollection and entanglement. 
Where each thought relates and inspires new thoughts, which in turn pull up memories which conjur up sounds, smells, laughs and even smiles. 
I reflect on  the love, the perfect morning and how beautifully the day is shaping up already. 


At 6:45AM it's still quiet, no cars zooming by, no sirens, no nothing except natures song, bidding each to get up and enjoy the sunrise.


The sun rises, it starts so slowly, then launches into the sky amid a blaze of cool to hot glory. The brightness seems immediate. Always wear sunglasses from the first glints of solar rays.


My routine, my ritual if you like, starts just like that every morning. 
The morning view I described in the opening page, is  varied only by the weather passing through. 
Bright sunny clear blue mornings, to almost English winter grey cloudy monsoon like down pours. Each day is uniquely special mingling alongside my deep meditation, thanking Jah for being so fortunate.


My ritual, I would imagine, is not unique. Man has probably been doing something like this for eons, long before a president Nixon and his unhappy killjoy Nixon-ites came along and tried to murder Mary Jane.


Mary Jane lives, she is truly wonderful and full of character. 


To experience the deepest, purest sweetest meditation, the environment and ritual should be each day perfected and made even more sumptuous (if [at all] possible). My morning ritual is part natural, but all inspired.


Good morning sun and son.

Cha. 1.1 Inspiration...

(some of my grammar corrected)

Whilst sitting in a retro 60's Caribbean garden lounge chair, gazing over the blue of the ocean and above, the light puffy white clouds, an idea came to me, I should write a book. 


Why now on this August 25th 2011 on another gorgeous tropical morning? Here in our apartment, a three bedroom bungalow (come castle) nestled on the foothills of the St Lucian mountains (or very, very large hills), overlooking Gros-islet with the warm morning mixed in the cool humidity of last nights grassy mist.


I have pondered on something to do, other than delight in the sumptuous view across a deep green lush semi jungle urban country, across the marina, over the tall masts of the local yachts that have mustered in Rodney Bay for the local clubs, parties and bars that line this fun-loving partying Caribbean island of St Lucia. 


My other task today, assigned by my gorgeous wife (Candi), is to buy a large fan for the living room, which has to be said, does get *bloody* hot, there is no other description, it get's frickin warm in the afternoon, on our roughly south-facing veranda, this new fan will save us loads of energy spending that normally could go on aircon to this simple device. So a large fan is the solution when sipping some cold ones. Apparently the fan I'm supposed to pick up today (and) according to one of wife's friends, never get's turned up to number three. Apparently it's a very powerful big fan and, because I suspect, it would just blow the back ass off the building and take you and the wall it's mounted on, to somewhere else.


 So write a book, every beginning, I thought to myself, just starts with a few simple motions, the walking of a gazillion miles for instance, takes at least one rambling step in the general direction of the intended destination...


...when I have lived these many years here. I guess a book can be all in the title. I'll post a picture of the creation for the book title moment soon, 'bluegold', the explanation of the how the paragraph above came to be, and where I am still coming to terms with living in this surrounding island beauty, the miracle of being a father of my first son, a wonderful big baby named Josiah. 


The story will follow in bluegold. The feeling of immense gratitude in travelling a lifetime to reach a paradise of spirit, heart and mind. Through a 40 year journey, born in a small overspill town, Hemel Hempstead, just north of London (United Kingdom), to this living moment in the warm tropical August of Bonneterre, St Lucia; 


  Imagine please, a 24 million carat gold bar, in the deepest luxuriant velvety blue you could dream up, that's bluegold. To me that simple visual image is Caribbean living, you of course need more details, so more to follow.

Cha. 1 Inspiration...

Whilst sitting in a retro 60's Caribbean garden lounge chair, gazing over the blue of the ocean and above, the light puffy white clouds, an idea came to me, I should write a book. 


Why now on this August 25th 2011 on another gorgeous tropical morning? Here in our apartment, a three bedroom bungalow (come castle) nestled on the foothills of the St Lucian mountains (or very, very large hills), overlooking Gros-islet with the warm morning mixed alongside the cool humidity of last nights grassy mist.

I have pondered on something to do, other than delight in the sumptous view across a deep green lush semi jungle urban country, across the marina, over the tall masts of the local yachts that have mustered in Rodney Bay for the local clubs, parties and bars that line this fun loving partying Caribbean island of St Lucia. 


My other task today, asigned by my gorgeous wifey (Candi), is to buy a large fan for the living room, which has to be said, does get *bloody* hot, there is no other description, it get's frickin warm in the afternoon, on our roughly south facing varanda, this new fan will save us loads of energy spending that normally could go on aircon to this simple device. So a large fan is the solution when sipping some cold ones. Apparently the fan I'm supposed to pick up today (and) according to one of wifeys friends, never get's turned up to number three. Apparently it's a very powerful big fan and also, because I suspect, it would just blow the back ass off the building and take you and the wall it's mounted on, to somewhere else.


 So write a book, every beginning, I thought to myself, just starts with a few simple motions, the walking of a gazillion miles for instance, takes at least one rambling step in the general direction of the intended destination...


...when I have been living these many years here, inspirationally too. I guess a book can be all in the title. I'll post a picture of the creational image for the book title moment soon, 'bluegold', the explanation of the how the paragraph above came to be, and where I am still coming to terms with living in this surounding island beauty, the miraculousness of being a father of my first son, a wonderful big baby named Josiah. 


The story will follow in bluegold. The feeling of immense gratitude in travelling a lifetime to reach a paradise of spirit, heart and mind. Through a 40 year journey, born in a small overspill town, Hemel Hempstead, just north of London (United Kingdom), to this living moment in the warm tropical August of Bonneterre, St Lucia; 


  Imagine please, a 24 million carrot gold bar, in the deepest luxuriant velvety blue you could possibly dream up, that's bluegold. To me that simple visual image is Caribbean living, you of course need more details, so more to follow.