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 

Immense and inward

Radiant Word, blazing Power, you who mould
the manifold so as to breathe your life into
it; I pray you, lay on us those your hands —
powerful, considerate, omnipresent, those
hands which do not (like our human hands)
touch now here, now there, but which plunge
into the depths and the totality, present and
past of things, so as to reach us simultaneously
through all that is most immense and most inward
within us and around us.

Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
Hymn of the Universe

In quiet morning light and contemplation I am awed by the gift of consciousness in human persons – and by Teilhard’s de profundis recognition and prayer.

Here a dormouse, there a wren. Beneath me the dust out of which I am lifted, shaped, fed and watered. Above me the ever-expanding.

Presence – most immense and most inward – touches me.

All souls

Nationwide fog has dissipated here and I’m reading in our garden, glistening and wet with morning dew. Richest of autumn hues around me, warm sunlight on shirt-sleeved shoulders, white china cup of coffee near at hand, breakfast porridge still present upon the tastebuds and warm-in-the-tum. It is, I hear, a record-breaking November morning. It is, I feel, a glorious moment to be alive.

You know how it is? How your throat catches when, looking up from the book for an instant, you catch your own reflection, together with that of a host of flowers and the deep blue sky, in each of several hundred dew drops glistening on a single green leaf? The coolness of a single drop to trembling finger’s touch?

All souls must know this from timeless time to time. Eternity caught up in a moment. A moment caught up in eternity – what it is for one soul to be viscerally aware of its connection to all souls, and all souls to one Soul – and yes, its having landed on the rim of my coffee cup – as though designed reminder – connected somehow even to this tiny, thirsty, scent-attracted fly. All souls. Living and dying and dying for living. Through all ages all souls fly …

On a Fly Drinking Out of His Cup

Busy, curious, thirsty fly!
Drink with me and drink as I:
Freely welcome to my cup,
Couldst thou sip and sip it up:
Make the most of life you may,
Life is short and wears away.

Both alike are mine and thine
Hastening quick to their decline:
Thine’s a summer, mine’s no more,
Though repeated to threescore.
Threescore summers when they’re gone,
Will appear as short as one!

William Oldys
1696-1761

Where will summers gone appear as short as one?

In company with all souls, in a timeless eternity, where innumerable, iridescent reflections may be seen and delighted in – even whilst new creations tumble into view – in glorious timelessness, alive.