Category Archives: Overcome Difficulties

So be it, Truly

1Writing desk
This writing desk was asking for some serious TLC and I’ve taken on the task. Bought at the local Charity Shop, it was love at first sight. I’d wanted a writing desk and now I have one. Or has it got me!

This is the before photograph of the desk in its original, scratched and flaking state. You will see the after picture ‘in due course’. This is my ‘intention’ desk. To write more and more often desk. With a coat of paint tender care along with love will be etched into the wood. It’s a hand-writing desk. Somewhere special and specific I can return to sit down and take up an actual pen, with ink. Proper ink. No great novel or even great thoughts, simply a place to land before, put pen to paper and see what comes. Blog posts and thoughts I didn’t even know were there. Who knows.

Now here is a woman who has herself a desk too. She calls it her Intellectual Altar.

So now when I sit down with a cup of tea and either my laptop or notebook, I have a clean, uncluttered space to contemplate: a place where I can spread out my books, papers, or whatever else I’m working on. Just as a Dharma room Buddha is a visual representation of the calm, compassionate focus we’d like to attain, my desk is a tangible reminder of the priorities and practices I’d like to cultivate.

From Horded Ordinaries
Amen to that. So be it, truly.

The Irreparable Hour

River Bela - in full spate
River Bela – in full spate
Tempus fugit: Time is fleeting. Where tempus fugit appears as fugit inreparabile tempus it is: it escapes, irretrievable time.

Ah the flying time!
Fast flies
meanwhile
the
irreparable hour.

In Zen we have a verse:

Time flies
As an Arrow
Flies from a bow.

To the teacher then:

I wish to sit
beside you
And learn from you.
Always.

The verses are a commitment, a deep one. Yes, time passes and deeper still there is never a time when one does not learn from ‘the teacher’.

This post is for all those who are caught in the irreparable hour. The space from diagnosis and a date for surgery. The space from date of surgery to surgery. Time does not fly then. Time wears heavy boots then. And still we can sit beside/in our heavy boots, the interminable hour. And learn. For ever.

Sounds trite perhaps but what else is there?

Love Lost? Think Not

spring flowers
It seems like yesterday, but it wasn’t, when I strained to hold up a flight of stairs while my dad fixed them in place at the top. They were heavy and I was seriously challenged; my relationship with this man, my relationship with myself. Why am I doing this, doesn’t he appreciate how ridiculously heavy these stairs are! For goodness sake, I could hurt myself. But that all flashed by so quickly and the thought imprinted indelibly on my mind was, I love this person, not in spite of his idiosyncrasies but BECAUSE of them,

How true it is of people, places, animal friends. Everything and everybody I’d say. The now-and-then craziness of our friends and acquaintances are still bonkers at times – love doesn’t render us blind. Each of us has habits and…quirkinesses others find difficult! But love transcends and acknowledges what is, seemlessly (and for sure sometimes love tells us to hot-foot it out and away, and fast.)

I love the car I drive, the place I’m staying, the pots and pans I use. I thank them as I leave and return, when I turn the key in the locks and when I burn a pan (as this morning) and it comes up shiny and new again. Love just comes and that’s the way of gratitude and of love, not a feeling, more simply of the heart. Just arises without counting the costs, the hurts and disappointments the slights and the worries. Oh, and of course the inter-personals!

I guess there isn’t a thing, not anything, that’s outside or inside for that matter. All the same it’s when we are estranged, leaving, leaving behind, waving good by, that what’s ever-present makes manifest.

These flowers above are in memory of my father who died on the 29th January 2000 and for a chap who is getting ready to exit this world.  My kind thoughts to all who suffer with loss and with lost love.

It never is.

Ongoing Flowing

The river surrenders to
fallen trees, bushes
dead birds, marooned goat, barbed wire
Oh heck!

The river-deep, rocks
jagged, rounded, to gravel, to sand
rolling, grinding, turning
……deeper yet. Deeper deeper.

The river!  Looking up – sky!
Meeting/parting
Playing a merry dance
Stretching, falling together.

The river – Ah! The sky – Oh!
No place to hang a hat
No ‘now’?
and yet….

Thinking – grace in movement.

I’ll now climb aboard and drive to Throssel in brilliant sunshine with temperatures falling as I climb higher over the Pennines at Hartside Crossing. See view from the webcam up there.

For those who are tempted to believe that all there is to this life is what one sees and knows.

Lights For All

How jolly! These trees get my vote out here in Lancashire where just down the road at St. Michaels the community suffered a major flooding. All here promises a fine day with sun showing. Shyly. What ever age holiday lights can’t fail to bring uplift. Can they?

Two children ran playing on the path as I stepped out into the brisk air to snap this photograph. Adding bounce and vitality. But as with the smile so too with the ‘bounce’. One does not need to skip and hop to convey a sense of liveliness. Not at all. Not preoccupied by what has been or what is yet to come let loose your eyes to let light in. Through each and every pore.