imagine the joy
in a sublime creative
act such as this oneSRM – MM Haiku 110 Day 140
Writing in light of violin & music making
light
A glory and a cov’ring
life’s great beauty is
discovered in both sunlit
clear and misty daysSRM – MM Haiku 98 Day 128
Mind’s eye
on this shortest day
each year thoughts turn to warmth and
light and hope of SpringSRM – MM Haiku 91 Day 121
Contribution
darkness is changed when
human agency brings a
single flame to itSRM – MM Haiku 88 Day 118
In light
heard before seen yet
I knew immediately
she played bathed in lightSRM – MM Haiku 37 Day 67
Running The Red Line
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.
Hollowed out
Can even a little peace be breathed into human existence today?
Can a willed intention for light amid the darkness of the present world’s confusion and fear, grief, haplessness and hopelessness make the slightest difference? Do my prayer, contemplation and meditation heal or illuminate anything beyond my soul at all?
I don’t know.
Only that I must pray, contemplate and meditate. The not knowing facilitates kinship with the millions most desperately in need of peace-light (and food, drink, safety and shelter) tonight. And I have a pervading feeling that if hollowed-out humanity were ever able to surrender some of its ‘knowing’ to accepting and tolerant living, we might yet thrive and grow within the embrace of Wisdom – way deeper and beyond the confining walls of religious houses and capitols.
Wishful thinking? OK. But today I heard a seven-year-old girl bombed out of her home and frightened beyond any measure of decency, thanking those who have shown an interest in her story. Yes. I wish. I wish. I wish.
The know-all will make nothing great again, at all.
