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.

The Village Shop

This morning I walked over to our village shop to buy milk and a newspaper. I pushed the door open and the owner smiled and greeted me by name. It’s a good thing to have your name spoken through a smile, so I smiled back and greeted him by name and wondered if he felt the same as I did. A smile and your name always goes a long way in affirming again your right to be here.

On getting home, I sat down with a hot cup of coffee, opened my newspaper, left the small world of village life and plunged into the vast sphere of politics, social happenings and intrigue. I didn’t like what I saw.

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.

Words

The dappled light in the woods never fails to move me.

A Reflection:

Isn’t it strange how at times when you try to put thoughts into words, you have the immediate feeling of the thoughts being cramped and inadequately expressed. 

Words are powerful, yet, can be so constraining. There’s always the inevitable complaint,  “It just didn’t come out the way I wanted it to.” Perhaps that’s why we experience more being said in the art of silence than in that of speech. 

There is a language beyond words, we’re simply not proficient enough to hear and understand it. 

Absence

Absence lies at the heart of our seeing more clearly. It’s often in something’s absence that we suddenly begin to see it in a new light. It was Kahlil Gibran who said, “Let there be spaces in your togetherness.

Touch

This morning I got up with a heightened sense of touch. I felt the softness of water on my face, my wife’s loving embrace as she left for work, the tug of the leash as I walked our little dog, the brushing of a gentle breeze on my cheeks, the enfolding comfort of my favourite chair and the warmth of a strong cup of tea.

Again it reminded me that the earth and everything in it is naturally sensual. I’ve found that the more I’m in touch with this, the greater the joy I feel. So, I’m going into this day, as I try to do on most days, with a deep desire to offer time and awareness to all that I will touch, and to all that will touch me.

A Portrait

I was at the Tate Britain the other day and saw this wonderful portrait of Margaret Sweeney, the Duchess of Argyll. It was painted by Gerald Brockhurst 1890 – 1978.

As I looked at it, I was mesmerised by her gaze. To me her eyes communicate engagement, but also a kind of detachment and distance, as if she is assessing you and trying to grasp something of your character. It is a connected gaze, but cautious and discerning. Just an outstanding portrait.