From Katie

Neil was a man who saw beyond the horizon in many ways. He was a visionary, a mystic in the sense of one who is on a path of personal transformation, an inventor, a brilliant mind, a gifted healer, a caring and valued friend.

He saw possibilities for humankind that others could not, from the practical like how to run a car on vegetable oil, to the heartful with his vision of conscious relationship, to the spiritual.

Behind this though, was a huge heart. This man LOVED. He knew how to open his heart and allow the love that he knew was his essence to flow through his physical form. He did it every day, without a word, just by his presence. In doing so, he touched the lives of so many people, more than he knew.

During this last week I’ve spoken to many people who knew Neil, people I’ve never met, and they all expressed shock at his passing, as is to be expected, but also an outpouring of love, with comments like ‘he was a beautiful, beautiful man’.
One person, when told he’d died of a heart attack, said ‘maybe his heart was just too big.’
And it was. He was the most loving, gentlest man I’ve ever met. We all know he was no saint, though, he was many other things as well, in a gloriously human way….stubborn at times, arrogant sometimes, tetchy sometimes…and according to his sailing mate Alan Green, when racing he ‘lost his usual laid back attitude and became very impatient with the mistakes of others.’ One of his lessons was to, and I quote “have patience amongst idiots”. But he was very real, no pretensions.

He had the biggest heart. He helped others wherever he could, however he could. He had enormous courage, to be himself when others’ vision was limited.
Paradoxically, he felt that others didn’t see him, the him inside. He didn’t know how much he touched others’ lives, how much he was loved.

Though we’d been together a relatively short time, this lifetime, in human terms, the love we shared and the soul connection we felt with each other was deep. I spent my whole life looking for him. Rather humorously, we’d circled around each other for years eg. He lived in Lara from the age of 9; I was in Highton in Geelong. One day my family and I were driving back to Geelong from somewhere and had to top as bushfires crossed the road at Lara, his family came home from somewhere that day to find the fires had, I think, stopped at their back fence. He went to school in Corio; I was at Bell Post Hill. I started studying natural therapies at the Southern School the same year he did, but I was there during the day and he studied at night. In more recent years we both went to the same 5 rhythms dance group, learned NLP from the same teacher, had mutual friends…

We had so much in common…our dedication to healing, love of nature in quite different ways, his of the sea and mine of the country: though I was prepared to like sailing, I’m not sure how much gardening he would have done! We both loved the water, though, swimming and playing in it. We shared spiritual beliefs, we both loved to dance, we shared birthdays. Both being Virgos, we approached the world in similar ways: one of those was that he thought like an artist, in colour, with visions of possibilities and the creative adventurous spirit of ‘what would happen if…?’ This was great, because I’m an artist, and he was able to support and encourage my vision as I did his. I’m so glad I found him, even though such a short time together wasn’t what we had planned! Those who knew either of us well could see what we shared. He knew I saw him.

By his sudden death, Neil gave me, and all of us, another gift. There were a few things he wanted to say to people he cared about, but hadn’t. I’ve taken it on myself to say those words for him. There were things I wish I’d said to him, made sure he knew.

He thought he had time to say those words. So did I. The truth is that we didn’t, and WE don’t. So I urge you, because of Neil, to say what you need to say, from your heart, to the people in your life. Say the words of appreciation, of respect or gratitude or admiration or love. Say them.

Neil was good at that, at least with me, yet he withheld a few…out of fear of rejection? Pride? A sense that the other wasn’t ready to hear him? I don’t know. Say those things, to your kids, your partner, your friends, your workmates. Say them now, today while you still can. Tomorrow may be too late. And ask them to pass it on. This is one of Neil’s gifts to us all.

This year Neil was taking a public speaking course at Humourversity. He wanted to learn how to speak to groups so his ideas could make a difference in the world. He wanted to inspire people to expand their horizons, to see bigger and further, with more love and care for themselves, each other and the earth we share. Sadly, that desire remains unfinished.

Neil, there’s no-one like you. I love you and miss you terribly.

And life is eternal and love is immortal
And death is only a horizon
And a horizon is just the limit of our sight

So as Neil travels now out of our sight, beyond our horizons, by the life he lived he leaves us with the inspiration to expand our horizons, and our hearts.

A flotilla of paper boats with candles in them was set adrift on the river, and Neil’s mother took his ashes in a little boat out into the bay to release them to the sea he loved.