John Butler

I’m not an imaginative writer. As an idealistic young farmer, I started writing for some of the early organic magazines, and soon realised that what I think is worth much less than actual experience. With less of my ideas imposed, both farming and articles improved. Moreover, the pieces I’ve written which I value most have been – involuntarily it seems, “squeezed out” in spite of me – just as poems will sometimes unexpectedly appear. From where? Our muse, we say.

At first my muse was pretty girls but, through the practice of meditation, and a long life of adventures up and down, inspiration has gradually refined to Spirit. I’ve also learnt to distinguish two sorts of creativity – the true from Spirit, particularly found in nature, and a false one due to “me”.

I recently wrote a book called Wonders of Spiritual Unfoldment – a testament to what I’d found and encouragement, I hope, for others.

In life’s most meaningful moments, silence speaks louder than words. Being blessed with much fulfilment in old age, the book now published leaves me with little more to say. Why then join a writers’ group? What have I to share? For me, it wasn’t so difficult to write a book or publish it, but what’s the use of new books on a warehouse shelf? An author looks for readers.


Link: Wonders of Spiritual Unfoldment on Amazon UK.

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