Thoughts on Distance 3

I took this photo last Winter. I loved the mood and light of the moment. Here’s hoping that this coming Winter won’t be that fierce.

A Thought:

The Universe is huge. Perhaps huge is an understatement. It is endless, incomprehensible and infinite in distance and span. Pondering on this certainly evokes wonder and mystery, but also a profound sense of insignificance, smallness and even threat at times.

I find that this kind of thinking or meditating reinforces in me my need for belonging, for place and for closeness. It’s then that my thoughts go to my home, my garden, my community, my village, this tiny piece of earth where people know me by name, and I am overwhelmed with a deep sense of gratitude. This is where my boat is moored in this vast expanse we call the Universe.

Thoughts on Distance 2

I love to sit in our back garden and watch the sunset, often with a glass of wine in my hand.

A Thought:

Icarus flew too close to the sun and fell from the sky when his wings melted. When to keep your distance, and when to allow yourself to get close in life, is a matter of careful discernment.

Thoughts on Distance

Have you ever sat quietly and looked at someone you love and realised that in spite of your closeness to them, there’s also in them a distance you cannot span? It seems to me that the distance we experience in relationship is the very thing that invokes our longing to be close and intimate. Managing these two relational dimensions has much to do with relational health.

I remember watching the movie “Out of Africa” the theme of which was this struggle and interplay between closeness and distance in the relationship between Karen Blixen (Merryl Streep) and Denys Finch Hatton (Robert Redford).  What struck me at the end of the movie, were the words Karen spoke at his graveside, after losing him in an air accident – “…We loved him well. He was not ours. He was not mine.”

I’d like to follow this theme in a few more posts.

 

 

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.”

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.

Coarseness

I’ve been deeply struck by what I can only call a sheer coarseness permeating our relationships, especially here in the UK at this time. I see it happening specifically in our language in the political sphere of life. Our words have become rough, raw and thoughtless, No doubt the nature of our language unveils the reach and depth of our souls. I’ve had to sit myself down and take a long inward look. Sadly, I’ve discovered a real lack of reverence and empathy.