While it Lasts

A Happy New Year to everybody. In these photos you can see how mild, and muddy we are having it for the time of year. It was chillier, in fact, throughout July and August than it is today. You won’t hear any complaints, however, from local folk, who are enjoying it while it lasts.

My brotherly thanks to all readers, and fellow bloggers. If sometimes I can be a bit slow to respond to you, this is due entirely to the ups and downs of living daily with an infirmity.

Meanwhile, a brand new year of opportunity beckons, and, when we look for them, opportunities to do good come to each one of us every day.

With my best wishes to everyone: peace from Amras.

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The glory of creation is in its infinite diversity

And the ways our differences combine to create 

meaning, and beauty.

 Gene Roddenberry.

 

 

Photography ©Amanda Moloney.

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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!