Nothing Gold Can Stay Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. Robert Frost, 1923.
March 3, 2020 1 year ago today. UK Prime Minister, Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson said this:
“I was at a hospital the other night where I think a few there were actually coronavirus patients and I shook hands with everybody, you’ll be pleased to know, and I continue to shake hands.”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3NAx3tsy-k
As of yesterday, the UK deaths related to Covid 19 stands at 123,000. Anyone who thinks that death toll was inevitable or unavoidable needs to extract their head from their arse and read the facts. A disaster by any measure. A tragedy and a betrayal that will blight millions of lives for many, many years to come. Failure and deadly incompetence on a scale not witnessed before in living memory.
Thousands of businesses have gone bust, and once ‘furlough’ and other financial support is phased out, millions will be unemployed. Real people, real lives.
A disaster by any measure. And yet the British people keep on voting for politicians like Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson.
Deep winter Darkest days Nothing left of summer Stillness and decay Skeleton trees In a blanket of leaves Structure breaking down Dissolve into the ground Optimistic florescent gorse Shoots beads of lemon yellow Hoping for clement days A pledge for spring Persistent rain Muted percussion Earth's quiet ensemble Rehearsing lines Dare to imagine Better days ahead Evidence is scant Trust the Sun
The first moment of a new day. Not the first moment that I open my eyes. Not that purgatorial moment between night and day, when muscle memory gets me out of bed and puts a cup of fresh coffee in my hand. No, this is what comes after, when my head wakes-up, when thoughts start to bubble, when the day really begins. Sometimes my best thoughts and ideas are the first things that I think when I wake. Things that dawned on me.
I spend my days walking, thinking, making photographs, writing, reading, making music, listening to the radio, listening to music, watching films, cooking, reading, and sleeping. Most of the time I feel relaxed, creative, grateful and content. Sometimes I feel anxious. I fear that I’m missing out on something, as if there is a world going on and I’m on the outside. I wonder if I should be doing more, engaging more, contributing more, working more. I don’t know if this is a hangover from my working life. I let the feelings pass. I go out for a walk. I wander through woodland. I don’t know how long I will feel like this. It is a great ride. I go with it.
Words I write Pictures I make Mountains and sea My eternity Steps I take Not a question of fate I decide what happens to me My destiny Twists and turns Fingers burned lessons learned My fragility
In the second of an occasional series, here is the first moment of a new day.
This is not the first moment that I open my eyes. Not that purgatorial moment between night and day, when muscle memory gets me out of bed and puts a cup of fresh coffee in my hand. No, this is what follows, when my head wakes-up, when thoughts start to bubble, when the day really begins. Sometimes my best thoughts and ideas are the first things that I think when I wake.
Drinking my coffee this morning, it dawned on me that if a person, a citizen of the world, woke up this morning with the wealth to be able to end want, with the money to end poverty across the world, why wouldn’t they? What joy or satisfaction can one have in watching the pain and misery of need, impoverishment and hunger whilst having the ability, the means to end that pain? If you had the means, why wouldn’t you make it your life’s work? The thought that there are a handful of men (yes, they’re men) waking up today with the ability to end poverty across the world – but hitherto have chosen not to solve the problem. What point huge personal wealth?
In the first in an occasional series, here is the first moment of a new day.
This is not the first moment that I open my eyes. Not that purgatorial moment between night and day, when muscle memory gets me out of bed and puts a cup of fresh coffee in my hand. No, this is what comes after, when my head wakes-up, when thoughts start to bubble, when the day really begins. Sometimes my best thoughts and ideas are the first things that I think when I wake. Things that dawned on me.
This morning I was excited about snowfall. The weather forecast said snow. The snow did come, but not before a glorious sunrise. I ran out into the street in my slippers. This was the moment my day began.
I sit watching the sun coming up over the hill. Soft January sun-rays dancing on the delicate skin of the tree. Day breaking in soft-toned patterns on the scarred paper-white bark. Winter’s naked, shining silver birch.
Stop. It’s quiet here on the bank of the pond. No one is around. Watch the surface of the water. Notice the stillness. Observe the pondweed, the lily pads, the mirroring of the overhanging branches and shrubs that surround the pool. See how the light reflects on the water, creating distorted, abstract images. Watch the carp as they move effortlessly, slowly, making the slightest ripple on the water’s surface. Wait. You have time to wait. The traffic noise will soon fade, your head will fill with the sound of winter birds. Time will slow down. Hear the gurgle of water as it falls down the ornamental-rock waterfall, bringing oxygen and life to the still water. Just wait. Wait and watch. There is movement, soft and subtle, but now you will notice it. Be still. Release yourself. Live this moment. Breathe in this peacefulness. This tranquility is all for you.
I am in the present tense
I am in the present tense
I am in the present tense
I am in the present
Subterranean Birdsong 