My dear auntie Jean in London has been sending me photos of rainbows she encounters on her daily walks; rainbows drawn on the pavements, pinned in windows and hung on gates; a spontaneous phenomenal creative response to the personal, local, national and global crisis we find ourselves in. The images themselves appear as symbols of…
Today is my grandson’s birthday. He is 6. This is the first birthday I haven’t been with him. Usually I stay at their house overnight and surprise him in the morning when he wakes up. I’m usually helping out at his party. A photo on Facebook reminds me of the joy we felt at his…
Morning coffee has gradually become a slow savouring ritual for me. I am aware of my coffee urge as soon as I exit dreamworld – as soon as daily consciousness kicks in – it’s the only thing that will coax me out of my cosy brushed cotton cosy-bed-nest – it’s coffee time! I didn’t used…
Wide enough to keep you looking Open enough to keep you moving Dry enough to keep you honest Prickly enough to make you tough Green enough to go on living Old enough to give you dreams by Gary Snyder A grateful earth poem by the “poet laureate of Deep Ecology” Gary Snyder, with the…
Eat bread and understand comfort. Drink water, and understand delight. Visit the garden where the scarlet trumpets are opening their bodies for the hummingbirds who are drinking the sweetness, who are thrillingly gluttonous. For one thing leads to another. Soon you will notice how stones shine underfoot. Eventually tides will be the only calendar you…
At the end of November I was out for an impromptu dinner in a local restaurant. An elderly couple on another table caught my eye. I noticed them because they were wearing party hats. You know, the coloured paper ones you get in Christmas crackers. For some reason I couldn’t explain, it brought tears to…
This weekend I had a day trip to London on the train from Lockerbie to visit the Mind Body Soul experience at Alexandra Palace. It was an interesting day, with the train filled with thoughtful, serious and at times jolly looking people on their way to London for the People’s Vote march. Many with children…
I swear my way now will be to continue without plan or hope, to accept the drift of things, to shift from endless effort to joy in, say, that robin, plunging into the mossy shallows of my bird bath and splashing madly till the air shines with spray. Joy it will be, say, in Nancy,…
One day it’s the clouds, one day the mountains. One day the latest bloom of roses—the pure monochromes, the dazzling hybrids—inspiration for the cathedral’s round windows. Every now and then there’s the splendor of thought: the singular idea and its brilliant retinue— words, cadence, point of view, little gold arrows flitting between the lines. And…