Reflection and histories

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photo at pixabay

We who are water know
familial communion with
pond and river
lake and ocean
and we abide and communicate
by way of ripple and reflection
warmed by amniotic held
flotation – raised from
which our primal gasp and
cry signalled alpha and omega
of incarnate gradation – and
sight of mothered Wisdom
and taste of liquid nutrition
alongside growth spurt’s
sensation

Yes: our infancy born from
someone else’s depths never
leaves us – we are forever
embraced by it and so return
to reflection and histories
and promise as though to the
breast – and in gazing into
layered depths see at the
same time the light of height
yes: we who are water know
familial communion with
pond and river
lake and ocean
and we abide through all
eternity

Simon Marsh

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Life School

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for MW – during and after corporate meditation

I used to love to walk to school on sunny Spring mornings. The quieter hours still possessed of the mossy, dewy scents of the night – mildest of breezes softly stirring the trees of the park, and dappled light – already suggesting the new dawns that would awaken the synapses of my ever dawdling, day-dreaming brain.

Yes. I have long thought myself familiar with the colours of the spectrum; that I could name them, that I could assign to each a musical note, that I owned favourite orchestral symphonies of light.

But every new day brings surprises – and the sometimes primal response that mists our sight with tears of yearning, or recognition, or unknowing, or delight, or prayer, or a sense of the most exquisite new openness to the charism, the gift of the Universe offering her provision – the ultimate and eternal grace of Love.

And I was surprised indeed by the glory and the colours I encountered in Barcelona’s great Temple of Light. In La Sagrada Família I mistily knew myself a member of the one great and ‘Holy Family’ – the Universe herself. No single one of us ever fully cognisant of the glories of creation’s rainbow – while each of us is graced with ever-changing experience of hues and colours as yet unnamed.

Simon Marsh

windinmywheels.com

Newcomers

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Mungrisdale Writers welcomed four new friends this morning so we had a full house – and shared some truly inspired and inspirational writing. After our short meditation session member Charles Woodhouse penned this piece – and it touched a chord with everyone present.

Newcomers

In every game, in every match, cricket or golf, and in every meeting, at my old law firm or now at Mungrisdale Writers, I have often felt I am not good enough.

Like an incomer, off comer or newcomer, I know the feeling of inadequacy.

Am I fit to be in this group, in this firm, in this side or on this tee?

Everyone else is better than me.

I do not want to be found out, exposed and embarrassed.

This is nonsense.

We are all newcomers and always will be.

Nerves, inhibitions and self doubts are normal. Without them, we would be unplayable and intolerable.

The best writing comes from the edge with some tension. The more unsure, the better the focus.

At least I hope that is so and I am not seeking a crutch.

Charles Woodhouse