Sometimes, too much might be enough.

If you love something, love it completely, cherish it, say it, but most importantly, show it. life is finite and fragile, and just because something is there one day, it might not be the next. never take that for granted. say what you need to say, then say a little more. say too much, show too much. love too much. everything is temporary but love. love outlives us all. R. Queen.

Posted on Facebook by Poetry of Kat t, reposted by Natasja Hellenthal

Perhaps I needed to remember this a week ago, it’s hard to be sure, my intention was to avoid building unfulfillable hopes and attachment to passing dreams… events intervened… all I can send now is a prayer, a wish, to bathe in light one whom I find I loved more than I realise.

First Light

0410, on the fourth of October, and my body wakes me up to make me guide it to the place where bodies do what they have to do; all part of the maintenance routine.

At about this time, sixty-two years ago, I  took my first breaths of Glaswegian air, began the long process of making sense of new and sudden sensations and experiences, of forming a sense of self and other on the way, with all the consequences that brings.

My mother comes to mind: the ordeals she has endured, her enduring love despite very many setbacks and disappointments in her life, many achievements in the face of them too.. and the great changes in the world since then. She has given me a lot, including much of the most important learning for life. Thank you, Mum.

I’m grateful, too, for the many fortunate circumstances I’ve encountered in this life,  not least being born into a place, family and culture not too stifled by rigid dogmatic beliefs or tainted by the daily uncertainty of corruption. With much more freedom than many have. Just being free of routine hunger, thirst, danger,  fear and pain, anger and confusion… this is a wealth in itself. There are many people to thank for that, past and present,  too many to comprehend, even.

There is a gusty, cool, restless wind outside,  the promise of rain this morning, another day of steering this body and mind through the flow of experiences.  An early bird tweets and stops short, perhaps nudged by its neighbours on a branch, still trying to sleep. I’ll rest a little, too.

Thank you, have a good one.

Leaving wishes.

A short walk in the last sunlight,
stepping over solid and liquid water
to visit a special place
and leave wishes.

I watched friends..

Burning Art – C.Terrell 2019

A long time ago, I watched friends destroy a thing I’d just created.

I was not angry, not sad, not aware of any feeling of hurt or even betrayal. The work was done, an ephemeral assemblage of rocks and driftwood in an unlikely balance on the shore. The purpose for me was in the making, not the duration of its existence. I was content to walk away after a few minutes of contemplation of the result and let whatever would happen proceed: wind, tide, the slow action of gravity over friction, a stranger’s deliberate action or even just the passing of the conditions that allowed such unlikely balance to persist.

“as if seeing another person create and express something represents a …. threat”

I made no intervention, watching from a low clifftop on that bright, sunny evening, nor did I comment on it later. I saw an opportunity to practice letting go of my involvement in the work, to watch events and to observe and notice the questions and sensations that arose in my mind and body; questions of friendship and the nature of these relationships, feelings of disturbance arising and settling within my body, questions about my relationship to my own creative products and of others’ reactions and responses to these things.

On several occasions, I have noticed that there are people who seem deeply unsettled by other people’s creativity, to the point of saying or doing something that will contain, devalue or even damage it, as if seeing another person create and express something represents a fundamental, if sub-conscious, threat. I’m curious about this, is it motivated by fear, anger, jealousy, feeling slighted or somehow displaced, briefly, from being a centre of attention? Is it something else entirely?

In those moments, as I sat apart and watched, a seagull gliding by on warm evening air, I felt I’d got to know another side of these friends, a better measure of the nature of these relationships.

Ephemeral or enduring? Which of these words will describe a particular relationship? Back then, I began to realise that how much its existence depends on conditions is what determines the durability of any relationship. Experiences since then have given me a clearer understanding of this. Friendship, like stacked rocks, can depend on an unlikely conjunction of conditions, sometimes as unlikely and ephemeral as those small boulders on that distant beach; wind blows, tides advance, somebody throws a stone or tries to add another…

C.Terrell 2016

Dreams and Mist.

The season of mists is upon us.

Spiders are gathering dreams,

Carried on air and sunlight,

Storing them for winter nights.

Waves and mist

It was still and misty, this morning, muffled birdsong from small flocks of sparrows in the hedges and shrubs by the lane, a robin sitting on an electrical line, singing his territorial claims at a volume that seems impossible from so small a bird.  Further away, on the muddy banks of the Forth, waders and gulls were calling, songs in search of a singer.

I took a slow stroll towards the estuary, noting the beginning of Autumn in the fields, harvested or nearly ready, great golden rolls of hay awaiting collection on spiked tractors, piles of the season’s manure ready for loading into muckspreaders and flinging over the fields, to give us all a pungent few days whenever the wind blows.  Abundant cobwebs on any suitable support, thousands of young spiders testing their engineering skills across any gaps they could find, their work now hanging with bright droplets of dew.  Quiet moments of contemplative beauty before turning home to breakfast, coffee and some slow Sunday tasks; cleaning, preparing some food, removing the dying bean plants and poles from the pots, oiling wooden kayak paddles, making a rescue towing line for planned sea trips.

Yesterday, by contrast, was bright, warm, sunny; inviting outdoors.  The surf forecast was good, the first such opportunity I’ve had for exactly a year, and I was not disappointed.  Often, on these trips, I arrive buzzing with tense expectation but this time I felt relaxed, unconcerned if it turned out that the forecast was wrong, that the sea was flat calm, I was at ease with simply being on the beach, next to the sea, unhurried.

As it turned out, the waves improved steadily, my lack of surfing in the last year had not had too much effect on my stamina – the canoeing and kayaking has helped, despite using different muscles.  After a slow start, I was catching good waves in the sets and staying balanced on glistening, flowing walls, my mind regaining some of those “thoughtless” moments of stillness amidst the flow of events.

The beach, too, was showing signs of the change in seasons; lumps and bands of knotted seaweed, hundreds of “sea potato” skeletons (a kind of sand-dwelling sea urchin common in UK waters.), parts of crabs, seashells, occasional jellyfish, washed up on the shore for the curious to peer and poke at.

Changes are in motion all around, some traumatic and dramatic, some gradual and mundane, some slow setting of seeds that will emerge in the Spring.  Only an attitude of acceptance and doing what is best now seems to run through it all, aiming for contentment with what is here right now  – not complacency nor inaction but acting within present conditions while looking ahead to anticipate what is needed next.  This is my aim with regard to the water activities, all work in progress to revive, update and build upon past qualifications and make more likely my ability to shift back into work that inspires me while enjoying the payback I get now, just getting out on the water.

It’s like this, surfing in the mist, right now is good, I can only listen out and wait for whatever wave comes next.

Time to sleep now.  I wish you a good week ahead, happy even.

The very hungry ATM

Yesterday a faulty atm ate my bank card, now cancelled and a new one ordered. The managing company staff on the emergency number were very helpful and also connected me direct to my bank to arrange a replacement.

Today I wrote a cheque for the first time in months and now have cash to do my monthly victualling.

It takes me back to when I didn’t have a cashpoint card at all and a hole in the wall was a thing to avoid. Mobile phones were only used on Star Trek and they never got distracted from a Klingon attack by a Twitchatbooksuptime notification text.

The coffee that was in my cup is diffusing into my brain, awakened by the magic beans. I feel ready now to trek to the aisles to hunt and gather, then exchange brightly decorated paper with the guardians at the checkout, bemusing them temporarily with the magical magnetic discount card.

Amongst all the sufferings in the world right now, I wish you peace and health and rest over the weekend.

Thank you for…

A post by PMu in Daily Doodle has reminded me of something important to remember, especially in these turbulent times of delusion, confusion, myopic avarice and collective stupidity, appreciating what I have rather than dwelling upon what I do not have:

I am grateful for many things:

• a warm and safe place to sleep,
• enough food,
• the luxury of a shower and toilet and hot water,
• a body that, despite its faults, allows me to explore mountains and sea, make things (including my comfortable bed!) and see/hear/feel well enough to make and appreciate art and the amazingness of the world,
• knowing good people, educators, artists, musicians, scientists, volunteers, writers, military and ex-military, lamas and monks and dharma teachers, potters, carpenters and people without job descriptions who are and have been part of my life,
• several friends in the forms of rabbits, cats, a magpie, a couple of horses and dogs,
• having shared time and love with two amazing people over the years, most recently somebody who inspired me to learn Dutch and move to Scotland,
• having done and planning to return to work that really inspires me and helps others,
• the teachings of the Buddha,
• living and working in Scotland, a nation with far more potential than many of its own inhabitants admit and than is allowed it by an increasingly remote government in London
• both my parents (see past posts)
• My sister and her family,
• the National Health Service and the dedicated and overworked people who work within it despite continuing attempts to undermine and dismantle it,

Most of what I am grateful for, beyond the things necessary for basic needs, are not material things. They cannot be taxed, stolen, vandalised or, until I lose my memory and leave this life, lost.

It’s a day off, a Friday, it’s frosty and sunny and beautiful here, I’m going for a walk up a small hill before going to get some things I need in Glasgow.

If you’ve read this far,  may you continue to enjoy both the ephemeral and lasting things that you are grateful for.

Pass it on. 🙂

Sunlight before dawn.

0450 – I have just woken up with a vivid feeling of immense warmth and light in my body and mind, most of all in my head and heart, the remembered faces of friends and family, and others, circling, all of us bathed in this feeling of warm light.

I’m sitting at a newly-made desk, rain falling outside in the dark early morning when I should really be sleeping, the experience from earlier still very faintly present, like the slow warmth of dull embers in last night’s fire.

It was a feeling of a warm spring day, a morning when you feel refreshed, relaxed, safe, healthy and able to sit or lie in the sunshine, no need to do or be anything else right now. I could describe it as a little like a solar system of people, some individual animals too. Some were very clear and close by, within embracing distance, others further out, so to speak. Some were present or past friends, some family, a few had been much closer for a while.

To say “faces” is incomplete, your images were clear but there was a feeling of your reality too. It felt a bit like a hug or sharing warmth and light, a metaphorical embrace that brings those sunlight-bathed feelings yet allows complete freedom to move, not constraining, not posessing.

This feeling lasted a few minutes, spurred me to sit up in bed and decide to get up and write this down; it felt important enough to share, however trivial it may seem to you as you read this.

If you’re reading this, you may well be one of those people whose presence appeared, vividly or not, in that brief early-waking experience. If you’ve read this far without dismissing this as trivial or inarticulate waffle, thank you. In any case, thank you.

My alarm is sounding, time to get up and do the necessary things today. I wish you some warmth, safety and sunshine, today, real or imagined.

False, and Real, Gold

It’s the end of a busy week, less stressful than previous ones of late but wearisome with tasks I find uninspiring and the reality of working to live rather than living to work at present… a negative view I know but it’s what’s been arising of late, leading into more constructive rounds of reviewing my situation and aspirations.

Having a loose and non-functioning wisdom tooth removed probably didn’t help my energy levels either; the tooth now sits in a plastic tube, a sort of memento mori, a visible step in the eventual dissolution of my body, a useful “wake-up-now!” meditation.

Thus Friday evening is welcome, the weekend a time of recharging and opportunities to do some of the things I am really drawn to.  Last weekend it was a superb day on mountains I hadn’t previously climbed, some plein air sketching and painting too, achieving two objectives and enhanced by the company of a handsome Raven during my lunch, sitting on glittering crystalline snow.

I called by the railway station to collect my tickets, bought well in advance, for a Christmas visit to my sister, then into the nearby supermarket for a couple of things.

Music, loud and hammering in my weary brain, lots of people, slightly frantically searching, calling out, filling baskets, so much stuff, choices and more choices…. my mind felt numbed, I noticed I was wandering through the aisles, a feeling of nagging and unfulfillable un-satisfaction (not dissatisfaction)… I began to feel like a hungry ghost, mentally plucking goods from the shelves yet never losing the hunger.

Reaching the night air outside again felt surreal, a transition into a new phase of a dream.  Back to the car, home, through slow queues of traffic.  A welcome shower, food, recovery.

Now I feel simply tired, waiting for the washing to complete its spin cycle so I can hang it up to dry, a simple, useful, task that is surprisingly satisfying.

At the beginning of the week, I cycled to work on a bright, cold, crisp morning. The trees in Bannockburn heavy with bright autumnal leaves, beginning to fall around me.  I find these colours and the scent of the season  as rich and nourishing to my spirit as the best food and most subtle wine; that sweet beginning of decay and return to the soil, the hot colours in cold blue air and silvery frosts and mists.

I’m reminded regularly by little things like these of a recurring question.. what is wealth, really?  What do I actually want to do with my energy and experience and time?  What is of enduring value to me?  What are the things I genuinely need and what am I holding onto through unhelpful attachment? How do I distinguish false Gold from real?

The rhythm of Pink Floyd’s song “Time” echoes in the back of my mind as I notice that the washing machine has stopped..

The washing’s done

The spin is over, 

Thought I’d something more to say… 

Goodnight, and I wish you a weekend rich in real Gold.