Interlude | just for the joy …

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remembering summer days

‘Do you ever just close your eyes on winter evenings to remember summer?’ my friend asked me, earlier today, with a wistful look in her eyes. ‘On winter evenings, certainly,’ I replied, ‘and pretty much most mornings, too.’

Sure enough, I’m an advocate of living in the present, but part of the joy of living now is time found here to re-member the past, thereby inspired to breathe deep today, and begin to imagine and to shape the next second or two, as we do.

So here’s a little revisiting Summer ’16. You’re invited to stay here, now, for a little space, and – hopefully – some present grace …

Radical

I’ve tried to count
your petals but lose
track each time
around and recall
that numbers never
touched my senses
with clarity of cold
or warmth or taste or
touch or sight or
scent or sound and
after rain this late
summer morning

I note that tall
and elegant you’re
not much of an
accountant either
and for you too
life is celebrated
sometimes by each of
these but in the main
by radically returning
your searching face to
life-raising energy
in sunlight

SRM 

Running The Red Line

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What an enormous privilege it was to be invited to capture some images of a vibrant and wonderfully ‘alive’ book launch for Julie Carter’s Running The Red Line on 21 April at The Skiddaw Hotel, Keswick. There’s nothing quite so wonderful as a room full of inspiring and inspired, encouraged and encouraging, charismatic and articulate friends – gathering to celebrate something profoundly rich – and thereby ‘write in light’, creating living poetry in the electrified air.

Broadband users, please click on the image above for a photobook (pdf) which will download in around 30 seconds.  Best viewed full screen.

 

Figurehead

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September on Iona

There’s metaphor
somewhere in grey cloud
hung low over Mull on
the other side

not entirely
unattractive –
illuminated even but
nonetheless grey

whilst dappled sunlight
in and on the rippled Sound
issues invitation to a
pilgrim soul

to this side –
entirely beautiful from there
shades of green and Michaelmas
blue

yellow daisy at the door
bench I’ve dreamed upon before
I would stay awhile with you
here rather than there

Now

perhaps I’ll pen illuminated haiku

_______

yellow daisy. door
sunlit soul open to Sound
michaelmas blue

_______

dwellings host watchers
swell carries voyagers home
bring me too with you

SRM

Who wants to leave?

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Origins

Origins in timelessness
primal turquoise and tender
held by the softening sigh of
The Sound

born hearing the mothering
sustaining, nourishing seascape
of Wisdom’s womb – our first
teacher suckles, sings, balances

makes connections, blankets
secure and hums lullabies
about our shared sky – teaching
the heart to seek answer to our

eternal why. Yes, I will forever
remain bound to this
mothering sustaining
in the soul of Iona

Depth and flow
and height and breadth
and symphony of
silent music

From her I am born
to move outward
to her – and to Wisdom
I will ever return

SRM

What a home base

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Rock of the Aeons

Be still. Be still
until the will to
clatter and clamber
up the hill of life’s
vicissitudes surrenders
with gladness and
placidly to clear-eyed
remembrance of the
level-way – the going
that’s sustained by the
daily choice to stay
within earshot of
singing invitation to
steadying anchor of
contemplation
meditation
resuscitation and
gentle gradation
where movement
inward shepherds
sustains and balances
our explorations
outward –
be still. Be still
until the will
meets the Isle
of the ancient
sanctity. Rock of
the aeons within

SRM

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