In The Waiting

 

These beautiful tropical fish, and koi carp live in England, in a village called Matlock Bath. I find it very relaxing to watch fish going about their affairs. There is an inner stillness felt when so absorbed. I used to do a little snorkeling in the mediterranean during my pre-disabled years, and was often astonished by some of the antics of sea creatures.

Once a group of tiddlers* swam hugging my left side. They followed me this way until a hapless solitary fish swam just a little too close to my right side. In the blink of an eye the hidden group were feasting on it. Clever little fellows.

Fish know nothing of Christmas, and do not anticipate a time of giving and receiving. Yet they are not sad. Perhaps that is one reason why they can be so relaxing to watch.

My thanks, as always, to all readers and followers. I hope you enjoy this post. I would like to take this opportunity to ask that we send our love on the winds now to all those who will be alone this Christmas. May the inner meaning of Christmas overtake the seedy exploitation we see ever more in all our hearts.

Until next time, and may it be soon. Peace from Amras.

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“I said to my soul, be still and wait without hope

For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love

For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith

But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.

Wait without thought, for you are not yet ready for thought:

So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.”

T.S. Elliot.

 

*Please excuse my non latin nomenclature.

Photography ©Amanda Moloney.

The Golden Season

Greetings from this writer. These pics are dedicated to those good readers who have sent healing wishes my way. The last five pics were taken one week later than the others, and I think it’s easy to see how fast the golden season encroaches.

Since returning, after experiencing a difficult summer, to a relatively manageable physical state, I am taking every opportunity, while it lasts, to  get out and capture local scenery at its best. If heaven permits, I will continue.

By the way, I hope you liked the alternative picture format, and I hope too to return very soon.

With thanks from me. Peace, and Namaste.

 

A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
 A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and Thou,
Beside me singing in the Wilderness,
 And oh, Wilderness is Paradise now.

Omar Khayyám

 

 

 

 

 

Photography©Francis Moloney.

Strictly Speaking

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Greetings to everyone, and with thanks to all our blogger friends, new and old, here are some more photographs from a corner of old England for you to enjoy. These pics, like last month, were taken in Devon. The crystals and bloom in the stream were Amanda’s contribution.

Last month I told you that one of the people helping to push my wheelchair in Devon was my brother, Philip. This was not, strictly speaking, the case. In fact he was just holding on to one handle to help steady his feet while Luke did the pushing, very slowly.  Philip suffered severe brain damage during a minor hospital operation in childhood, and as a result of this he can neither talk, feed and dress himself, or use the toilet. In fact he is totally dependant in every sense for all of his needs. Despite all that, he was kept, loved, and cared for by the family. He has become a wonderful character in his own right, and has the merriest laugh for miles.

Sadly, those responsible for his suffering refused to own it, and my father failed to find a solicitor willing to seek justice from the  mighty medical profession. It was 1955 after all.

Our parents harboured no anger that I was aware of, they were resigned to the facts. My mother, in fact, was a nurse in the NHS for many years before moving into pharmacy a couple of decades before retiring. Their choice to keep and care for Philip, however, brought many blessings, along with monumental challenges, plus undue social pressure, from time to time, to have him institutionalised.

Every day, in my profession, I met parents of children who suffer like Philip, and I was always deeply touched by their faith and fortitude. Since our parents passed a few years ago, I have never doubted, not even for one tiny instant, that they have been greatly blessed for lives so unselfishly lived.

The good do good and get better. The wicked do bad and get worse. One day, our accumulated choices will sweep us to a personal destiny, where fair acknowledgements are guaranteed.

Most folk might feel, quite understandably, that this is a story of misfortune. For me, however, Philip has been a very valuable teacher. His love and courage opened my eyes at a very young age, and it is miraculous that he has lived such a long and active life, contrasting his predicament. Therefore, despite outer appearances, I consider myself most blessed.

Since our parents graduated, Philip has gone to live, minutes away from us, with friends in the countryside, and is very happy indeed. He visits regularly, with his ever laughing eyes and mischievous smile.

I don’t know who wrote the following words, but the writer, indeed, was quite right.

Why are there so many handicapped souls on the planet today?
When an individual perceives another as handicapped, it would be helpful to perceive that same person as an evolved soul. Disabled individuals are “able” in ways that a normal person is not. They see beyond illusion and know what is true and what is false. These souls anchor the energy of unconditional love in a conditional world. 

With all that said, may the world revolve in peace, until next time, Namaste from Amras.

We Three

Line of Sight

Roads go ever ever on

Under cloud and under star,

Yet feet that wandering have gone

Turn at last to home afar.

Eyes that fire and sword have seen

And horror in the halls of stone

Look at last on meadows green

And trees and hills they long have known.*

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Namaste dear readers, and welcome to all new friends, and followers.

I took the above pics in 2007, from my wheelchair, somewhere in Devon, England. My legs a seat, four wheels my feet, I always need a push. On that day, my wife, son, and brother each took a turn at pushing me. For days like these I feel truly very grateful.

While life on the outside flows with fresh challenges, I will never allow myself to forget that place of stillness on the inside, symbolised by this chapel, standing alone in the fields.

And though the journey be a noisy one, I will always keep that silent chapel in my line of sight.

Until next time, Peace from Amras.

 

When you become aware of the presence within, you awaken from a deep sleep.  You become aware of the beauty around you.  Things that once seemed a burden are no longer a burden.  You become aware that nothing is yours and yours alone.  You are aware that all things and all people belong to God.  You know you are his child and you see that if you are a child of God, all others are children of God.   

Gerald O’Donnell .

*Tolkien.

Toys and Things

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It has been a long time, for time flies swiftly when we are exploring, (perforce,) the peaks and valleys of our respective inner landscapes. My health dips more during seasonal transitions, and this Autumn is no different. However, I’m back, at least for today, and with these photos to share.

Taken by Amanda and Luke, at Hartlebury Castle Museum, they show a little of the history, toys, things, and fashions which have left their mark. Plus some sculptures old and new. (The bar is modern, but still makes a good pic.)

The museum is situated in Worcestershire, and is open to the public for most of the year.

I hope to return with part two in this series very soon, though my internet attendance record is a bit patchy. Working on my old mac can be so like taking a wheezy and arthritic old dog out for a walk, that I may have to buy it a wheelchair, (like a mini version of mine.)  Therefore please forgive me if my replies to comments come late. Such tardiness!

 

Namaste, and thanks from my heart to you all ~ Amras.

 

“To give pleasure to a single heart by a single act is better than a thousand heads bowing in prayer.”
― Mahatma Gandhi 

 

 

 

Photography©Amanda Moloney.