Thursday, January 30, 2014

Inside Myddfai Church




Quiet is peace. Tranquillity. Quiet is turning down the volume knob on life. Silence is pushing the off button. Shutting it down. All of it. - Amir

 Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner

























































Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Resting Place




The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.


Percy Bysshe Shelley



















Monday, January 27, 2014

More from Myddfai





Often a star was waiting for you to notice it. A wave rolled toward you out of the distant path, or as you walked under an open window, a violin yielded itself to your hearing. All this was mission.

Rainer Maria Rilke





































Saturday, January 25, 2014

Tranquillity

This was taken last weekend in St Michael's Church in Mydffai, Carmarthenshire.

It has to be the most peaceful church I have visited.

I may post more pics of it soon.






I like the silent church before the service begins; better than any preaching.
 
Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Saturday, January 18, 2014

Talley Abbey


This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need of complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness.

Dalai Lama














Saturday, January 11, 2014

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Happy New Year

 

Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right.

Oprah Winfrey
 

Sunday, December 29, 2013

Breakfast Skies and a Morning Walk




Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky.

Kahlil Gibran
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Thursday, December 26, 2013

Flood





 

No individual raindrop ever considers itself responsible for the flood

 
Anon

 



 



 



 



 
 
 

Friday, December 20, 2013

The wet dawn inks






Winter Trees

The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve.
On their blotter of fog the trees
Seem a botanical drawing --
Memories growing, ring on ring,
A series of weddings.

Knowing neither abortions nor bitchery,
Truer than women,
They seed so effortlessly!
Tasting the winds, that are footless,
Waist-deep in history --

Full of wings, otherworldliness.
In this, they are Ledas.
O mother of leaves and sweetness
Who are these pietàs?
The shadows of ringdoves chanting, but chasing nothing.


Sylvia Plath