Sunrise

A Thought:

I watched the sunrise this morning. As the tops of the trees were touched by light, so the shadows of night dissolved and hidden forms rose out of sleep and stood boldly and ready to face another day.

The scene never ceases to amaze me. It is the ancient story of life itself as it moves from being not seen to being seen, from being unconscious to being conscious, from night into the light of day.   

Always More

Early morning in Kent

On my early morning walk. The gradual appearance of trees through the mist.

A Thought:

It’s strange how our eyes always tend to seek out the horizon. Some of the most iconic pictures we have are of people shielding their eyes and looking out towards the horizon. Perhaps it’s because deep down we know there’s always more to what we actually see and experience. Perhaps it’s because we are awakened to the truth, that behind all things, there are hidden depths of other realities waiting to be explored. There’s always something more beyond the horizons of life. The territory of the invisible is profoundly real.

Sudden Panic

 

A Word Picture:

Dry leaves and twigs crunched under his boots as he stomped his way through the bright reds and yellows of Autumn. The path had petered out and he was struggling to find a new one.

He stopped, took a breath and listened for some familiar sound. What if he couldn’t find his way out of these woods? His mobile was in the car and nobody knew where he was. His stomach tightened.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by a cawing crow. He saw the bird a little way from him hopping on a gnarled branch of an old Oak. He saw the sparkle in its eye as it jerkingly scanned the ground. The behaviour was strange, but a welcomed distraction from his rising panic.

He stepped carefully, not so much as to not scare the crow, but rather to cautiously examine what it found so unsettling on the ground. Nothing caught his eye. What he did find, though, to his great relief, was a path – a new path that finally led him out of the woods.

(Sometimes Nature sees and knows)

A Visit to Chartwell

We spent today at Chartwell, the country home of Winston Churchill. What a day it was. We took a tour through the house and then through its gardens. It was such an enriching experience. To visit the little places he loved, where he did much of his thinking, provided us with some touching moments.

What struck me about the great man, was that as he dealt with the lofty and hugely difficult affairs of State, he never lost touch with the simple things in life. The photo above is of one of the ponds in the gardens. The chair (the original chair) you see on the left, is his chair in which he loved to sit and feed his fish. He was passionate about his fish and even bred butterflies in the midst of all sorts of other little earthy activities he gave his time to. I came away deeply inspired and energised.

From My Sketchbook 1

The Namibia landscape in Southern Africa. I had the privilege of living there for two years. A land of wide-open spaces, vast skies and mystery. I did this with a sepia pen and coloured pencil.

Change and Transformation

Year after year, I’ve watched this tree transform itself into the beautiful colours of Autumn. The transformation happens quietly, naturally, persistently and without any kind of fuss or grunt and groan striving for perfection. It just slowly happens.

I’ve often wondered why human beings can’t transform themselves in this way as well. Change always seems to be so immensely difficult in human life. Some say we can’t change in this way, while others say we can. Which is it? Well, as Forrest Gump would say, “Maybe it’s a bit of both.”

Nature as Artist

Yesterday I was engrossed in watching the shadow of a cloud slowly move across the slope of a small hill. It was a moment of sheer beauty. It got me thinking of the landscape and the intimate relationship it shares with light.

It has this wonderful gift of being able to receive the light into itself and to immediately begin to shape it in diverse textures of shadow and colour according to all the nooks and crannies and angles of the terrain. It’s as if the landscape becomes an artist using light as the paint to produce a portrait of itself. I’ve often seen what I can only call breathtaking creations flowing out of this sacred and intimate relationship.