In the River
of Stars.
Notes from the road and the inner life: on pilgrimage, grief, imagination and the places where our stories begin to change.
Explore the writing ↓Where the outer journey meets the inner one.
After thirty days walking alone in the Himalayas, I stood beside the Ganges at nightfall. Around me, pilgrims set little parcels of flowers and lit candles afloat as prayers. The Himalayan foothills rose beyond the water. Above us, stars appeared one by one; below, the candlelight travelled downriver like their reflections.
That moment gave this journal its name. Here I write about what we find on the road, what we carry home, and the stories that help us understand both.
Selected stories.
Three paths into the writing, from practical Camino reflections to a city seen in golden light.
How (Not) To Walk The Camino
For anyone thinking of taking the first step, and wondering what the road might ask of them.
Read the essay ↗02 / ON THE ROADThe Gold Light of Pamplona
A return to the Camino, a rain-washed city, and the strange beauty of arriving.
Read the essay ↗03 / REFLECTIONIn the River of Stars
An invitation to see the world, and the life within it, with fresh eyes.
Read the essay ↗More to read.
Explore the latest essays and reflections below.
Pilgrimage
When you stare towards the sun, the world becomes fragments of light and shadow. The elusive horizon disappears into the presence of
Post Covid 2021 — The State of our Friendship
I know nothing about the human brain except that I have one and that since you’re reading this, you have one too.
How (Not) To Walk The Camino
‘…In India, they say only Atman can meet God on the road…’ So you want to walk the Camino de Santiago? Are
The Gold Light of Pamplona
June 2023 – 2nd Camino de Santiago Rain glistens on the cobblestones of Pamplona. Rubbish, haphazardly strewn covers the ground, fast-food wrappers,
Angels in the shade of farewell
Goodbyes come in all sizes, and rarely suit all. The sky is pastel blue with a warm orange glow where the sun
I Have Lived
I have lived a thousand thousand nights.I have dreamed of cities eternal and ethereal.I have crossed the patterned sand blownscattered wastes of
In the river of stars
Let the canvas of your mind be green, the verdant green grown in rain-soaked soil. Black and rich and scented by fresh
The Twisting Tree
Crucified on the hard wooden floor of my mind I lay awake and aware of my body as though for the first
Where We Are
Imagine yourself descending a steep stairway that has been hacked out of the raw, red-rock face of a cliff in Kerala, India.
Stories are better shared.
If something here has stayed with you, I would love to hear from you. You can also explore the books and the work I do with other writers.
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