Sunday, 31 August 2014
Wednesday, 27 August 2014
Sunday, 24 August 2014
Saturday, 23 August 2014
To dwell in the here and now does not mean you never think
about the past, or responsibly plan for the future. The idea is
simply not to allow yourself to get lost in regrets about the past or worries about the future. If you are firmly grounded in the present moment, the past can be an object of inquiry, the object of your mindfulness and concentration. You can attain many insights by looking into the past, but you are still grounded in the present moment.
~ Thich Nhat Hanh ~
Thursday, 21 August 2014
Wednesday, 20 August 2014
The Perfect Day
Sitting on a cliff in Cornwall,
the suns searing heat
is tamed by the kiss
of a gentle breeze
and the sea’s hypnotic shushing,
“it’s okay, you’re okay,
everything is okay
in the world,
The grasshoppers are not busy,
they rattle an occasional ‘cha-cha’
just to let me know they are there.
white, pale blue, red admirals
alight gently on wild flowers
and dance and chase each other.
There are few seagulls here,
I miss their exuberant cry,
head back, gullet vibrating,
they release their Tarzan’s explosion,
joyously declaring their passion for life.
Nature’s town criers
shattering the peace
‘All is quiet! All is quiet!”
A bird of prey hangs impossibly suspended,
in the blue sky.
She beats not a wing,
trusting the wind to hold her,
as she focuses all of her concentration,
on a potential meal.
Let me never come back as something small and furry
that I might have to fear her gaze.
She swoops and plummets to a sudden stop,
I quell the urge to cry out.
Again she hangs suspended,
in the air,
the wind occasionally ruffling her feathers.
Closer to dinner now,
her attention is on one single spot, unwavering.
Then again she swoops and drops out of view,
to reemerge on the other side of the cliff,
Dinner escaped or was rejected as too scanty
and my falcon has flown away.
She leaves me, awaiting her return.
The white waves break and roll to shore.
50 surfers try to tame them,
the bravest swimming farther and farther out,
to catch the longest, sweetest ride.
But it’s not Australia.
Wetsuit clad and buoyant surf withstanding,
I still fret for their safety,
though there is a lifeguard.
A gay painter has swept his brush
artistically here and there
to give character
to a clear sky.
And over there, three headlands away,
a cotton wool fluff.
A generous sprinkle of diamonds
adorn the waves
before they break to white foam.
The squeals of delight or shock
from the young surfers
are sufficiently far away from me
on this perfect day
on my bench
erected here on this beautiful cliff
to the memory of Rita and George Wright.
Sunday, 17 August 2014
Thursday, 14 August 2014
Tuesday, 12 August 2014
Monday, 11 August 2014
Sunday, 10 August 2014
Springtime morning misty shroud,
Woodland giants spoke aloud,
Connected creatures, awakening song,
Still reverberation, transcendent gong,
Totem gathering, golden wings span,
Joy in adversity, soul spirits clan.
Mark Osmer 2014
Saturday, 9 August 2014
“All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake up in the day to find it was vanity, but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible.”
Lawrence of Arabia