At 06:07 I see things as imbued with meaning, like fragments written in a foreign language. Sometimes I can decipher them; sometimes even put them in English. For instance, from my bedroom window I can see the Victorian factory opposite. I wake as the early sun catches its gable ends. As on a sundial, it… Continue reading Lucid Waking
Tag: pastels
Robo-goat
It's not curtains for me yet, much as I admire the views they bear of Chiltern scenes, as I saw again on my latest visit to Stoke Mandeville, which lasted two nights. I'll pull back the screen to show what happened. Let my goat be called Chemo. I was fed intravenously from her high-dangling udders, while… Continue reading Robo-goat
England Have My Bones
I suppose we all have an idea of what constitutes real living. It’s not all those compromises we endure while we bridge the gap between yesterday and tomorrow. Real living is when we can say “this is it!” asking nothing from tomorrow at all. By this criterion, my real life has lately begun. The evening… Continue reading England Have My Bones
The Golden Ball
The Dashwood Mausoleum, where the ashes of Sir Francis Dashwood's family are held . Here's a view of part of the Dashwood Estate, with the House part hidden by trees. It's administered by the National Trust, together with the village, though the Dashwood family still live in the house.
Walking in a painted landscape
My life is a series of blessings, like a string of pearls. If a blessing is possible, surely it is bestowed, distributed, not hoarded by a miserly God. And if blessings occur, why should they ever stop? For a blessing by its definition is a supernatural thing. No obstacle stands in its way. So I… Continue reading Walking in a painted landscape
Pandora’s Box
I argued with Charles Bergeman a while ago on the topic of happiness: whether, for example, a five-year-old child could have said to its teacher something like: “I don’t want to be anything when I grow up, I just want to be happy.” I said it didn’t ring true and then I promised to write… Continue reading Pandora’s Box
View from the Hill
I thought I might develop my "best", i.e. most "serious" ideas into a book. But as I'm addicted to blogging, I'd continue to use this space as often as possible, cultivating a wry, self-deprecating manner: for the interaction, for the moral support, a boost to a flagging confidence. The words for my writing, the best… Continue reading View from the Hill
Flat-Bottomed Clouds
What triggers the experience of magic I care not. For me it is immersion in Nature. Wild flowers, trees, caterpillars, hills, seashore, clouds. I had a guru who advised focusing on the breath as a way to enlightenment. It was boring, and though I did it for years and years, I can’t see what good… Continue reading Flat-Bottomed Clouds
Outsider’s epiphany
I glory in my sure-footedness, and the comfort of a buttoned cardigan†, on a chilly August day, walking through a stubble-field in a slow insistent drizzle. My path takes me behind a row of sturdy houses. Their backyards look untidy from the rear, with canvas chairs left outside to get wet, children’s toys left strewn… Continue reading Outsider’s epiphany
What makes me uneasy
Today I am following on from my previous post and the comments made by Darius and Rama. They felt that it did not really matter what someone believes. Perhaps they take the view that there is some inner Truth ready to be found which will put an end to all divisive dogmas. Perhaps. But we… Continue reading What makes me uneasy
Back streets, oily hands
There is a conversation going on here and here, perhaps everywhere, about goodness. I’m aware that the discourse in the US is frequently about good and evil. Bush refers to evil terrorists not just as individuals but as an Axis of Evil. Meanwhile, America is considered evil, as Irish humorist Dylan Moran puts it, by “the… Continue reading Back streets, oily hands
Wake up!
Petrol costs more than gasoline but it's still too cheap. They are of course two names for the same thing. Gasoline (US) has always been cheaper than petrol (UK). We don't have our own oil-wells. When the price really goes up it will hurt, but life on Earth will improve. Communities will be restored, obesity… Continue reading Wake up!
Image and Ectasy
Originally published on perpetual-lab.blogspot.com After the suicide of my old camera, now is the short period of mourning before the arrival of a new one. Meanwhile, I borrowed 6 books on painting in pastel from the public library, not in order to “learn how to do it properly”, but to see if there were any… Continue reading Image and Ectasy
Bledlow Ridge
I'm just learning how to use these chalks (oil pastels), but was quite pleased at the result. We sat on a rug with a hedge behind us, and I peered over the ripening wheat field—in case you can't recognise it— to view this scene.
Seagull territory
I posted this in July 2006 . Since then the seagulls have got still more arrogant, the red kites wheel and mew in every sky, the crows and pigeons and magpies make love and war our fence-tops. You need only look out the window. And what is it with the magpies—and rats? Has the coronavirus… Continue reading Seagull territory
Caterpillar
On a warm but overcast day, we went up Lodge Hill. With my box of pastels and a sketch pad, I felt like Vincent van Gogh going out to do a day’s work. Before I knew its real name, we (kids and I) used to call it Butterfly Hill, because in August particularly it was… Continue reading Caterpillar
England in Spring
26th AprilSpring is the most important thing happening here. This is how far a chestnut blossom at the back of the house has progressed. I'll give you an update soon. I love Spring, this year particularly, because it mirrors my own joy. Someone offered me this link on cheerfulness. I can't decide if it's wise… Continue reading England in Spring
a wayfarer’s notes 