A regular reader and supporter of Explore Meditation is Geoffrey Kennell.
We started chatting by email and soon discovered a shared love of writing and spiritual / real-world exploration.
Jeff was born in the U.K. In 1924 and spent his working life in Electronics. Although he didn’t start writing until after his retirement, he has since won several South African writing awards, wrote a newspaper column for six years running, and never let a day go by without writing something.
I have included some of his works below – as they are both entertaining and enlightening.
Please leave your comments after you read – and contact me if you have similar wisdom to share.
Thanks for making the community stronger Geoffrey 🙂
In Love and Light, We Explore! Nigel Coates.
There’s a spirit that keeps us all going,
And it’s not from a bottle or can.
It’s the second that marked our conception
Yes the Spirit that God gives to man.
From that first gasp of air that we breathe in
And we enter the world stark and cold.
We thrive and grow strong, or just tag along
Until we are withered and old.
Yes the Spirit that guides and protects us,
Every step of the journey we make.
Through thick and through thin, it will never give in
Regardless the choices we take.
Yes the road may be rough to begin with,
We may even stumble and fall,
But please understand, every step has been planned
By the Spirit that lives in us all.
There’s never a time it will fail you,
Be proud, be strong and be true.
For the Spirit is the sacred resemblance
Of the person you know best, and that’s you.
Geoffrey Kennell ©
Breakfast with God
I got up late this morning, a nightmare of a night
You know the kind, a troubled mind, that simply won’t come right.
I laid the breakfast table, a knife a spoon… two plates,
Some cereal in a cardboard box, milk and a bunch of grapes.
I sat alone like always, bowed my head and said a prayer
When I got the strangest feeling that someone else was there,
I saw the curtain billow, and the wind began to roar,
I fell upon my knees because, the Lord was at my door.
My mind filled with confusion, how do I greet my guest?
Kneeling there beside the chair, wearing an old string vest.
He raised His hand and smiled at me, then bade me to sit down,
“I’ve come to lighten up your life, and rid you of that frown.”
I said that I was sorry that my table looked so bare,
Had I known that He was coming, I’d have certainly been prepared.
“Your tables overflowing Geoff, my goodness can`t you see,”
“Piled high are all the gifts I’ve sent, birth to eternity.”
I stared at my bare table and my porcelain cereal bowl,
It’s not the food we eat I thought, but the food that feeds the Soul.
At last my eyes were opened, how could I be so blind
That precious food God feeds us with is not the eating kind.
Sometimes we have to look beyond the things that we can see,
I’m thankful for that breakfast chat, between my God and me.
We cannot live on corn-flakes, or grapes picked from the vine,
We need the food that God has sent, the food I call Divine.
Farewell To A Dear Friend
Last night I dropped my cell phone, it clattered on the floor.
Oh Lord I thought irreverently, can’t use that any more!
With heavy heart I picked it up, and placed it by my ear
A voice came from the earpiece, and it said “Oh dear … Oh dear”.
“Please treat this splendid instrument, with the greatest of respect,
I’ve suffered quite enough today because of your neglect.
You throw me down, you pick me up … press hard upon my keys,
And once you’ve punched the numbers in, why don`t you mention … please.”
“Who is this speaking, who are you?” I said, getting quite irate,
“‘Tis I,” came back a quick reply, “Oh seven three six two five double eight!”
This got me really puzzled, whoever could this be?
To start to chat, and just like that, before I’d touched a key?
“Now listen here, get off the line, I’m busy, that’s a fact”
“Don’t speak until your spoken to, don’t get in on the act.”
I waited for a moment then, clearly someone sighed,
“I am the Spirit Of Your Phone, you released me when I died.”
My heart sank down into my boots, was this some kind of joke,
Could a cell-phone have a soul, that came back to haunt a bloke?
I placed the cell-phone at my ear, as a tear-drop left my eye,
“It was an accident,” I cried aloud, “I don`t want you to die.”
“Too late, too late my dear old friend, there’s nothing you can do,
So all I ask, if you don`t mind … don’t drop me down the loo.
Bury me with dignity, beneath your strawberry bed,
The chlorine from my battery will make them rosy red.”
Those were the last words that it said, my cell had truly died,
A lump came up into my throat, and I broke down and I cried.
So now I see a cell-phone in a new and different light,
They are life long companions folks, that’s if you treat them right!
Geoffrey Kennell ©
Automatic Writing is the process of allowing yourself to enter a waking trance so that you can channel the information from a higher-source. Want to learn how?
Welcome to my free collection of Short Spiritual Stories. Most are set in magical times long past, but have meanings that are very relevant for those on a spiritual path today.