Kew Gardens

Hello readers. These pics were taken very recently, when Amanda and Luke visited Kew Gardens, in London.

I have been somewhat distracted by increased pain and discomfort. It’s been ongoing for a while – making writing, and just about everything else rather challenging. With that thought, please bear with me while I keep posts short. And if a prayerful healer sends relief my way, I will not be ungrateful. 

Back soon with more from Kew. Until then, I hope you spend each day in peace.

Speak to Him, thou, for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet- Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

Photography ©Amanda Moloney.

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Back to The Beechwoods

Namaste to all. I have been in more pain than usual for a few days, and it doesn’t feel like it will ease off quickly. I will not write much today, because my fingers are affected. 

Beechwoods are my personal favourites. The pictures above were taken in 2007, during my final visit to this magical area. The woods, which are protected by the National Trust, grace the hilltop where I grew up, and hold decades worth of wonderful memories for me. Please enjoy.

Peace and best wishes. 

Come Forth Into The Light Of Things, Let Nature Be Your Teacher.

~ William Wordsworth.

Photography ©Francis Moloney.

A Good Day

Greetings, I hope you are enjoying the new year so far. It certainly promises to be an interesting ride. I took the above pics while sitting in the car during a ten minute drive around. Sadly, I can’t spend much more time than this away from home without experiencing extreme exhaustion. Having said that, I am grateful for all that I can do, and this was a good day.

Every remaining day, of one particular summer holiday when I was a boy, and Just back home from the family fortnight, I would meet with my friends, and we would play together in abandoned neighbouring farmland. Before long, we put our heads together, and decided to build a two level treehouse in the branches our favourite oak tree. It was ancient, and tall, with many long branches for us to utilise. We loved this tree like a member of our gang. We utilised available planks and rope, and whatever else we could find lying scattered where the farmhouse had stood. The treehouse took less than a week to complete. Here we drunk lemonade, and swapped comics. When hungry, we helped ourselves to apples, gooseberries, strawberries, and suchlike. They grew freely and in abundance amongst the wildflowers and tall bushes growing all around. All in all, it was turning out to be a very good summer holiday.

One day, when September was approaching, a gang of ruffians bore down on us. They came, orc-like, thrashing through the tall grass. They threatened to hurt us if we didn’t surrender our treehouse. My friends decided it would be wise to run away, and so they did. Not this fool. I refused to surrender, and defended the structure from barrage after barrage of flying stones taken from a crumbling boundary wall. Next thing, the thin planks making up one side of our den were demolished. I grabbed the corrugated iron roofing and made a shield around my exposed flank. The raining stones were deafening against my ear, and worse yet were the threats and taunts. Before long, the floor collapsed, and I fell, wearing short sleeves and trousers, into the moat of tall nettles that was lying directly below. 

We lost our hideaway that day. The gang took over the remains of our treehouse. Days passed, and that would have been it, except for the surprising fact that I had earned their respect, or so it seems. One of them approached me with an invitation to join them for an afternoon in the tree, and I accepted. The first thing I noticed was that the wild flowers that graced the field were all gone. The treehouse had received some very rudimentary repairs, and I sat, with some trepidation, in a corner, to observe the ways of these boys. They read naughty mags, and smoked cigarettes. I flatly refused both things. They spoke rudely, and plotted ill doings, including thefts, and truancy. When they grew hungry, there was no fruit growing for free to be found, and so they opted to scrump apples from a dwelling close to the road. From here they were chased off promptly, and with strongly worded threats to call the police ringing in their ears. I didn’t waste a single minute more of my time with these fellows, but I do thank them sincerely for the truly great lesson about life, and mother earth they gave me on that one cloudy afternoon. 

Now they remind me of our brothers and sisters who have stolen by force, the earth herself, leaving wastelands behind them. *Thorn bushes grow where the enemy has camped. Many decades have passed since our happy treehouse, and the way the earth once fed us freely. The landscape of childhood has changed out of recognition. It is built over, and no longer allowed to feed any hungry children at play. I miss mother earth. So much of the bounty that heaven provides freely according to our need, has had a price put on it by naughty children who throw stones. I am very happy though, to contemplate the fact that too much Yang will become Yin. Therefore the pendulum is, perforce, swinging back again towards universal righteousness, and nothing but nothing can stop it. The good are becoming better, while the better are becoming best. Can you not feel this, like a call coming from inside of yourself?

I hope you enjoyed that memory of mine from a time long gone. The moral is timeless. Until next time, peace and good cheer from me.

“Oh Thou, from whom the breath of life comes,

who fills all realms of sound, light and vibration.

May Your light be experienced in my utmost holiest.

Your Heavenly Domain approaches.

Let Your will come true – in the universe

just as on earth 

Give us wisdom for our daily need,

detach the fetters of faults that bind us,

like we let go the guilt of others

Let us not be lost in superficial things

but let us be freed from that what keeps us off from our true purpose.

From You comes the all-working will, the lively strength to act,

the song that beautifies all and renews itself from age to age.

Sealed in trust, faith and truth.”

Jesus.

The Lord’s Prayer, in its original Aramaic form.

Photography ©Francis Moloney.

 *Lau Tzu.

The Grace of The World

Greetings. I have been a bit more poorly than usual for a while, so please do bear with me if this post seems brief. All of our lives are in transition, and nothing exists but all that is becoming. Only the giver of grace is eternally motionless, yet waits far ahead of all that moves, in the silences of forever.

One of the nicest things I find about our community is the respect we share, and I wish for the happiest of futures to find their way fast to all our doorsteps.

These pics were taken today, at Kingsbury Water Park in the West Midlands, UK. Please enjoy.

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

“When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be ……I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.”

~Wendell Berry, “The Peace of Wild Things”

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Photography ©Amanda Moloney.

Let’s Hear it For The Good

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Rumours of spring are in the air, the winds have changed direction, crocuses grow unafraid in the garden, and my fellow bloggers are giving voice to seasonal optimism.

So, with all that in mind, and all things being equal, I decided to post more pics of winter.

Actually, these are the remaining pics from Scotland which I promised to post, and they’re of Luke’s riparian ramblings at Loch Ness.

While my computer has survived for another month, (though not for want of daily attention,) my health has demanded even more scrutiny than usual, and pain has slowed me down more these past weeks. Nevertheless, I hope sincerely that all my readers are happy, and faring physically as well as they may.

Anyways, I thought it would be a good time to make this declaration:

“Let’s hear it for the good”

Because we are, along with our peaceful sisters and brothers, the world over, coerced daily to hear it from the bad.

Wickedness notwithstanding, nothing lasts forever. Waves dip before they rise, and because all things must pass, it’s well to remember that *“For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave.”

Until next time, (speaking optimistically, as always) I wish all readers peace, and hope to return soon with more to share.

Namaste.

 

*From Robert Browning’s affecting poem “Prospice,”  which follows:

 

FEAR death?—to feel the fog in my throat,

  The mist in my face,

When the snows begin, and the blasts denote

  I am nearing the place,

The power of the night, the press of the storm,

  The post of the foe;

Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form,

  Yet the strong man must go:

For the journey is done and the summit attain’d,

  And the barriers fall,

Though a battle’s to fight ere the guerdon be gain’d,

  The reward of it all.

I was ever a fighter, so—one fight more,

  The best and the last!

I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore,

  And bade me creep past.

No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers

  The heroes of old,

Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life’s arrears

  Of pain, darkness and cold.

For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave,

  The black minute’s at end,

And the elements’ rage, the fiend-voices that rave,

  Shall dwindle, shall blend,

Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain.

  Then a light, then thy breast,

O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,

  And with God be the rest!