Startled by Peace

photo/dominikhofbauer at unsplash

Consciousness is the way the world appears and feels to me

Christof Koch
The Feeling Of Life Itself

I’m still a bit startled by the contemplation to which I was led by yesterday’s AI image (link), created at my request, using the words ‘bright reflective colours, peace.’ Tonight’s post hosts a peaceful photograph made (by Dominik Hofbauer) with somewhat older image-making means.

Startled, because I immediately felt calmer in the presence of softer edges, of rich, diverse and colourful invitation, of my friend Lori’s response, of Christof Koch’s clearly stated belief that ‘Consciousness is the way the world appears to me’ – to me – implying that it’s possible, likely even, that my consciousness, the way things appear to me, will, of necessity and ‘wiring,’ be different to the ways in which ‘things’ or ‘experience’ feel to you.

Albeit that I can believe that you and I may have similar experiences, may be ‘attracted’ to similar things, may – in a broad sense – ‘love’ life, each other, and ourselves, in similar ways, still I want to ask the question: can I ever adequately describe what I feel to another? Could any other ever hope to understand such a description? Can another feel what I feel, precisely? Can I feel what they feel?

And so it seems to me that the pursuit of peace – good relationships with other humans, and with our earthly home, and all the other living things herein – requires that we respect the lived experience of every other person around us, for they can no more help their being different to me than I can help being different to them.

This is fundamental to any present or future cessation of hostilities between people – individuals or nations. If we could only grasp that another’s different experience of the world does not and should not automatically make of them an enemy, a foe, we might simultaneously come to understand that the ‘paths of peace,’ of living with, of not making enemies of, ultimately of celebrating difference, rich colour and diversity, are the best ‘way forward’ for us all.

Who can count how much has been lost by humankind’s warring with one another, by gender inequality, by misguided and unjust persecution of so called ‘minorities,’ and of refugees – even unto death? There’s something of the minority, something of the refugee, in every single, conscious, experiencing one of us – in you, and in me. Who can count how many would, in their heart of hearts, really want this travesty, this gross mistreatment and waste, to continue?

I wonder what others think? Would an acceptance of others being different because they were made to be different, perhaps specifically intended to be different, lead us, call us, invite us into the rich, diverse, multi-coloured, multi-layered ‘more excellent way’ of a much longed-for future, of a much longed-for, agonised-over, prayed-for, consciously dreamed of, better way, today?

Can we hope to be startled by peace?

.

archive – a list of all earlier posts

HOME

A Universal Song

.

Writing is a journey of discovery that takes me places that I never expected …

… a friend wrote to me today. And – in the way of such things – I have been taken thereby to places that I never expected, wondering all day about the extraordinary gift of languages in words, and in music, which can sometimes transport our words so exquisitely.

When I was first moved by Les Miserables in the 1990s I remember being sure in my mind that Marius’ grieving in Herbert Kretzmer’s Empty Chairs and Empty Tables was not for one revolution alone, but for every reflection and reconsideration of past, present and potential. A Universal Song.

Hearts are breaking all over the world for innumerable reasons today. Too many empty chairs and empty tables. I find myself awed by the purity of young Cormac Thompson’s rendition here – a clarity that carries an invitation to reflect straight to human hearts.

May our words be quiet, kind and clear; may our music sometimes be hope-filled silence – so that we really hear both, allowing ourselves to be reshaped, that we may the better transform our world. A quiet revolution. Thus may we be taken to unexpected, perhaps joy-filled and hopeful places.

archive – a list of all earlier posts

Songs of Springtime

.

My lovely friend and poet Julie Carter came for supper tonight. We’ve laughed a lot, been thankful for a lot, and cried too. Most of all we’ve talked about our human need to hang on to hope whilst noticing the indomitable insistence on peace and the fundamental goodness of life in some of the most unlikely, hurting places. May I commend this video, and Julie’s ‘Songs of Springtime’ (link) … ?

🌱🇺🇦🌱

archive – a list of all earlier posts

Some times

Photo by WildOne at Pixabay

Sometimes – I hear a tap tap tapping though I’m looking at a photograph of a typewriter – which image makes no sound; I encounter story in silence where neither keys nor pen have yet shaped words; I feel what is over an horizon though it be beyond my sight; I sense poetry busy in the act of creating; I touch that which is not yet present. Sometimes all of life presents as mystery to be aspired to – and hoped for.

Some times.

Lament

.

Caoineadh Cú Chulainn, Bill Whelan
Uilleann Pipes, Tara Howley

This is lament and love for an entire culture: a piece about mourning Cú Chulainn, a warrior hero and demigod in the Ulster Cycle of Irish mythology, as well as in Scottish and Manx folklore. The underlying ‘drone’ of orchestral harmonies that are gradually heard here, like ‘dawn’ behind and around the lone (in this case, female) Uilleann piper, may bring tears to your eyes. Our lives are surrounded and supported by ‘other’ sounds – the cantus firmus, the enduring melody.

Friends have responded to a musical note at the end of my piece about Riverdance the other day: that it might usefully take up a post in its own right. ‘Lament’ has a place in all our lives as an encourager of reflection, a being present to what is, now, and an invitation to hope for the future, even when ‘the times’ feel bleaker than bleak – immense courage notwithstanding. This morning I heard a young girl, a seven year old soloist, beautifully singing the Ukranian National Anthem in a crowded Polish stadium. I cried. And I cry out, reaching for hope and harmony. Riverdance (and all that the notion of a river’s ‘dance’ might imply) came to mind, in company and in harmony with treasured friends, and again and again I have listened to the depth in this Lament – and invite you today, in the coming days, and months and years, to listen and to lament too – because harmonies do dawn – quietly, courageously, and persistently. And tears carry pain away down-river – to join in the being held, by a vast ocean.

🌱🙏🇺🇦🙏🌱

Courage and hope

Screenshot / Credit: BBC News

News bulletins 24/7 speak of terrible atrocities, fear, grief, hunger and pain in Ukraine. Hope is not easy to come by for people under bombardment and terror-struck.

May the sight of the homecoming of Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe and Anoosheh Ashoori be an icon of courage, hope and all things humane. Whether at home, on the move, or in the corridors of aid, diplomacy and power, may hope and courage prevail.

🇺🇦🙏🇺🇦

Returners

more @gardenstudiogram

Sometimes I’m surprised by the most vivid memories of people, places, thoughts and treasures – and I’m so thankful for the wonders of the reflective human brain, albeit that as a young schoolboy I was convinced that mine was duller than everyone else’s!

These images, captured in Edinburgh a year ago, make me glad to be alive – and hugely looking forward to my forthcoming return there. I am one of life’s ‘returners.’ I love to retrace my steps in the times and spaces that have brought the joy in the centre of me most fully to life – even whilst occupied, too, with the new.

I am so lost for words when I think of Ukraine today that I hardly dare speak of it at all. But being ‘lost’ is no excuse for forgetting – and I am in awe of the courage, hope and kindness that we’ve seen coming to the fore in many a news bulletin – in the face of truly unspeakable events.

Perhaps we all love to retrace at least some of our steps? Perhaps our human ability to ‘relive’ joy is one of our chief sources of fuel for life – and even for facing up to the reality of (our own) death; for courage in times of darkness, for compassion when we hear another’s crying, for hope when everything we hold dear appears threatened?

🇺🇦

Love and hope and memory

when you go home tell them
of us and say ‘for your
tomorrows we gave our today’

i

perhaps you did not
see one hundred years ahead
yet Sir you graced each

ii

thank you for singing
love and hope and memory
as you gave your all

iii

you did not know me
but sacrificed anyway and now
live in Love in all

SRM – MM Haiku 51 Day 81