About

‘And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.’

Shakespeare, The Tempest Act IV, Scene I

We are taught, in the Buddhist tradition, to meditate deeply on the reality that all phenomena are like dreams. I can’t recall a time when this didn’t permeate the fabric of my thought. We move from scene to scene in this hauntingly transient world but our very idea of wakefulness is merely the vivid dream of one who slumbers.

Such a view does not diminish the beauty and complexity of life. Nor does it encourage us to shrug and wear matters with a frivolous ease. Rather it allows us to begin to awaken to the truth of our experiences. 

And so this little endeavour of mine arose. A quiet corner where you might stay a while amidst my fragments of life, love and family and all that is simple and true in these dreams of ours, before returning to the world’s bright lights and endless promises.

There are other echoes you might hear along the way in these virtual pages; vague traces of minstrels, poets and writers. Their hearts, full of visions of splendour, have enriched my shallow mindstream with some fleeting impressions of the power and depth of their thought. 

In the many episodes of this current dream sequence my father and main teacher Lama Jampa Thaye has guided me through the sunny uplands, squalls and storms that have arisen with an uncompromising, all encompassing kindness. This effort is dedicated to him.

‘Dreams where the umbrella is folded
Into the path you are hurled
And the cards are no good that you're holding
Unless they're from another world
I'd already gone the distance
Just thinking of a series of dreams’

Bob Dylan, Series of Dreams