Sunday, 10 July 2011

A place of peace....

Quite a few evenings now have seen me meandering through the old gravestones and memorials in the old part of the local cemetery....


Thinking of the people who lay  here and wondering who they were and what sort of lives they lived, were they happy and fulfilling lives that made the most of every moment....







I asked my daughter what she felt as we wandered and she said "peace and a sense of hope" which I think is an enchanting way of describing the atmosphere here...




There seems to be a particularly poignant and beautiful spirit of place that is palpable especially in the evenings when I can walk here alone... I was gifted with a stone last visit,  which now sits on my altar to be pondered in a quiet moment...

3 comments:

  1. Hi Helen
    Lovely post and blog..I often walk through our local church yard..its a place I can reflect on my own life..Thanks for sharing
    Blessings
    Julie

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hi Julie

    Thank you for reading my post and leaving a comment. I find these moments of reflection bring so much needed perspective and peace sometimes.

    Blessings
    Helen

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  3. My art:

    WWW

    ---

    I said: "The theologians really know
    their topic; are these people smart like eighty-
    one people quite like you together, so
    just do like me and pray and trust them, Katie,

    their knowledge adds to a tremendous mass
    of safe and very holy gravitation!"
    – "Oh yes?" said Katie, "What if all that jazz
    is very simple at the final station

    what do you say? I don't want to be rude
    not even really to oppose your mission.
    But tacitly this concept may include
    an untold power, that's my slight suspicion,

    I mean, that Truth was never too complex –
    You may say 'God'; the real thing still is Sex!"

    My poetry:

    Single Swingle

    ---

    Algorithm of Being

    To live reactively, responsively, creatively, as an artist, act the way your life forms the best possible narrative, like a novel or a film, towards Death, End of the Story. According to Heidegger, Life is what Is. Sorge. Being kind of your own God? Primacy of Aestethics over Ethics.

    My philosophy:

    GAMMABLIXT

    Et ma poésie...

    LE FRUIT DU CIEL
    .
    Un orage nocturne illmuna maintenant l'Amazonie, franchis les Andes, envoya des jeux de cartes gigantesques et frappantes en bas à la Pampa –


    Puis: petit déjeuner à melon; café fumant !


    À la bague du cigare tu lis, étonné: GÉOGRAPHIE.

    Poétudes

    In Totenstadt kann Nichts wachsen,
    Nacht bebaut die grüne Bezirke.
    Wache, Kind, wache!
    Es kommt ein Mann zum Haus.

    Es läuft das Gerücht um schwarze
    Schein von brennende Schächte.
    Wache, Kind, wache!
    Er öffnet die Tür zum Zimmer.

    Das Mond der Nachkriegszeit fällt
    seine Auge über allen Gärten.
    Wache, Kind, Wache!
    Der König hat er gestürzt.

    Deine Atemwende wird leicht als Tod
    und Erwartung in der Himmelskapelle.
    Träume, Kind, träume!
    Dein Vater ist immer bei dir.

    FREMDE GEDICHTE

    -----

    Reciprocity! You do me a favor promoting YOUR blogs on mine.

    - Peter Ingestad, Sweden

    ReplyDelete