Most quiet mornings we have a theme for people to explore if they wish. Sometimes people draw, paint or write. Here is a selection of what has been evoked:
26th August 2020: Mystery
Finding mystery in all
The warmth of sun on my skin,
Heat that has travelled a hundred million miles
And gives me a sense of well-being in my inmost self.
The pebble that I throw onto the solid green covered stream
Where it is received with a gentle plop
There to stay for the next 10,000 years.
The mushroom that appears overnight fully formed,
A sign of life – and death
As I pass by it on my transient journey through this world.
The encounter between two people.
What’s said and – even more – what’s unsaid:
The looks, gestures, thoughts and feelings.
Three in one and one in three – I don’t attempt to understand,
But trust that something of God lives on within the deepest part of me,
Still warmed by the distant sun.
Runcton re-opened 5th August 2020: Gratitude
This silver birch stands
by the lush wildflowered
yet the upright wood
proclaims the cycles
of years fertile and fallow
and shows us still
the stature to endure.
The stream flows slow
in this Southern drought
but still it finds a current
fed by hidden source.
The dry, leafless beech tree
Give thanks for the beech
For it has enriched my life.
Its blood given for me.
For Chris who shares this birth month
between fruiting and withering:
the blue sky undisturbed by cloud;
the stream glassy on a ripple-less surface;
trees drawing on their deepest roots
as nuts ripen, fall;
cyclamen bloom trustingly leafless;
and in our circle, sharing sacredness,
we also pause.
Nettles long to sting:
they hang about in ambush,
wave sneakily in hope,
and, even when pressed down
about a stump, they
spring back to brush
triumphantly the passing fingers.
Cherish the margins
(Janet Aldridge – 17th July 2019)
Cherish the margins
left wild, where nettles
and brambles rule in
tangles, and where
bees and skipper butterflies
and over-weeded souls
A mighty beech has fallen
(Janet Aldridge – 20th March 2019)
A mighty beech has fallen~
a stormy week of battering,
then one huge gust ~
it creaked, and cracked and lowered.
All on the outside had seemed well,
but the jagged stump displays
deep inner rot, dried fragments
no longer flexing strength supporting
an upward trunk and wide-spreading
branches, now neatly stacked in sawn-off rounds:
all the history of good years and bad,
disease encompassed, all laid bare,
the girth of base at least three metres round.
Some roots deep and still alive, although bereft,
Send out defiantly their shoots of spring.
Let thoughts drop
(Chris – 21st November 2018)
Let thoughts drop
And let yourself break into a new world.
See the clouds scudding across the sky
Transforming themselves as they do so.
Play, like a child, on a log
Closing your eyes and feeling fragile – and fearless.
Dance with the wind, forgetting yourself
And discover new rhythms of life within.
The richness of all this
The richness of all this:
– Butterflies spiralling upwards out of sight, on a warm breeze;
Mottled light and dancing leaves;
Movement and sound intertwining with infinity;
Bees on lavender, scented bliss, balmy.
A joyous smile passes by
reflecting joy, sharing love.
I breathe in to it all,
New life stirs within
As I wait, watch and wonder
Where it will take me.
An acer is ablaze
With loss of chlorophyll
And we, when we can let go fear and guilt,
Will also flame.
A squirrel crawls to the twiggy end of a high branch,
Calculates the leap to
An even more fragile neighbouring limb
And turns back.
Even the grasp he now has under his paws
He turns again ,
Faces the gap and launches out…
Clutching the swinging stem
With only one paw
Now pendant, white belly up.
But twists and finds again
His graceful footing.
What Spirit moved in his
Heart, his sinews to try again,
To risk the fall?
A grey day of permeating damp:
Fire on the open hearth
Beckons us to burn:
To flame, to coals, to ash
Do we consent?
A leaf falls, setting stillness of the pond a-quiver –
A drop tips off the end of a cedar leaf,
transformed to ripple –
May I be set a-quiver, turn to ripple
By falling, dropping, Grace.
Sit and watch
(Big Roy, June 2015)
Many sit and meditate and watch their breath.
For me to sit and watch blue dragon flies dart among the watercress
or Kingfishers by the waterfall at hammer pond.
Even at home on a wet day watching gold crest on the bird feeder
to sit under a tree on a hot day and look at flowers and bees.
At Runcton Manor I sit and watch the chickens dustbath
With the sun and wind on your face and bird song.
You can enjoy all things of wild nature around you
Being aware of all this tells you heaven is not far away.