Jul 19

Crooked Trails

canyon bridge

A friend of mine sent me this quote many years back, and I have always loved it – and tried to live my life by it. Until recently, I had not realised it was part of a larger quote, which really sent fingers of excitement running up and down my spine when I read it. And I thought you might enjoy it too!

“May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds. May your rivers flow without end, meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and castles and poets towers into a dark primeval forest where tigers belch and monkeys howl, through miasmal and mysterious swamps and down into a desert of red rock, blue mesas, domes and pinnacles and grottos of endless stone, and down again into a deep vast ancient unknown chasm where bars of sunlight blaze on profiled cliffs, where deer walk across the white sand beaches, where storms come and go as lightning clangs upon the high crags, where something strange and more beautiful and more full of wonder than your deepest dreams waits for you — beyond that next turning of the canyon walls.”

(Edward Abbey)

Now that’s a huge and fabulous dream..


Find out more at www.timhodgson.org


PS I’m helping a friend out with some renovation work at the moment, so much as I would like to post, it’s proving a bit tricky! Normal service (whatever that is) will be resumed as soon as possible!

May 29

Thank You, Maya Angelou

christmas lights

Maya Angelou had more of an impact on this generation than many realise. Author, playwright, visionary, coach, poet, singer, dancer. she influenced many of the world’s leading thinkers. She will be missed.

For more from Maya take a look here.


I’ll be back soon..once I’ve sorted these Christmas tree lights.

Thank you Jackie Walker for this quote..

Apr 16

The Best Dancers . . .


fallen dancer

In dance, as in life . . .

The Best Dancers

God keeps me here like this:

to stumble a little.

If I was to



turn into light,

blinding myself even

to the most precious

and necessary illusions,

then what hand could hold my own?

Where would rest a weary head?

What good use for warm hearts;

for hot tears?

Why eyes to see, why arms

to open?

Which Lovefamily to fall into?

The best dancers know

what grace

every stumble


em claire

(for more poetry from em claire, see emclairpoet.com