Not too big or too small

/ Robert / Leave a comment

An insightful post !

Karl Duffy's avatarMindfulbalance

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Modern science is finding out that a lot can be learned from contemplative traditions, both in the East, as seen in Ajahn Sucitto’s quote this morning, and in the West, as can be seen in monastic orders like the Cistercians both here at Bolton Abbey in Ireland or all around the world. They both emphasize the health benefits of sitting still, which has effects on brain function, even in small doses.

The claim…that stillness of body leads to stillness of mind is not the exclusive preserve of Indian traditions: the desert fathers maintained that simply sitting still, preferably on or close to the ground, would greatly aid their attempts to keep the mind focused and thus resist the distracting chatter of demons. To sit still is to be present, and fully attentive to what is. How often do we really give our undivided attention to the things we do, or…

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Moving between worlds

/ Robert / 12 Comments

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I find it too easy for my inner vision to be clouded by every day concerns and responsibilities; my physical life often weighs heavy on my heart. The physical world is also provides the key for my sprit to be unshackled and to regain flight.

Knowing the cues
The sound of the breeze through trees; the swish of the sea on the shore; the scent of jasmine; or the sight of a gently flickering candle help me to make an inner connection, however this doesn’t always do the trick.

The next step
I have written posts about the challenge of capturing as many ideas as possible when my mind is abuzz with inspiration. When the opposite is true, it is like casting a fine mesh net into a sluggish sea. Most of the brainwaves flow through and only a small number of seeds of inspiration are collected.

As with all fishing, patience and taking a break can help achieve a result. As my thoughts spark, connect and add substance to the seeds, they often prove to be a catalyst for something worthwhile. Even if I don’t succeed, beating myself up about it isn’t productive and there will usually be an opportunity to have another go.

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Oscar Wilde | At Verona

/ Robert / Leave a comment

paulaB's avatarby PaulaB

AT VERONA
by Oscar Wilde

HOW steep the stairs within Kings’ houses are
For exile-wearied feet as mine to tread,
And O how salt and bitter is the bread
Which falls from this Hound’s table,–better far
That I had died in the red ways of war,
Or that the gate of Florence bare my head,
Than to live thus, by all things comraded
Which seek the essence of my soul to mar.

‘Curse God and die: what better hope than this?
He hath forgotten thee in all the bliss
Of his gold city, and eternal day’–
Nay peace: behind my prison’s blinded bars
I do possess what none can take away,
My love, and all the glory of the stars.

This week is a bit of a change from the norm…as I decided to feature one of my favourite writers. He was a flamboyant character, with a sly humour and…

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Marvellous light

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In the midst of dank intestinal twists,
A fetid cavernous abyss lies, where
Forgotten rheumy eyed daemons languish.
In the gloom, glowering grotesque gremlins
Grab ghostly globules from around a tomb.

Glistening silver threads of ectoplasm,
Crisscross overhead caught in pinprick shafts
Of moonlight. Crystalline walls emit a
Faint rose pink light, gently pulsing, adding
Incorporeal warmth to the womb like room.

Rise from the depths of despair, grasp the flame
Within, shine it on the sinuous path,
Marvel in the power of inner light.

(c) Robert Jones 2013, All Rights Reserved

Grains of creation

/ Robert / 2 Comments

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Everything connected through energy,
Atoms linked include the seen and unseen,
What has past, what is now and what will be,
Particles joined, grains of creation.

(c) Robert Jones 2013, All Rights Reserved

Picture credit: Hubble Heritage Team (AURA/STScI/NASA/ESA)

Chalk bytes

/ Robert / 2 Comments

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Playing with ArtStudio at the weekend reminded me of primary school; we were equipped with wooden lift topped desks although we didn’t use the inkwells. I remember having and using a personally assigned timber framed rectangular slate and white chalk. Compared to todays high tech world this period of change from nib and ink to ball point and felt tip pen was like upgrading operating systems.

The magic of music

/ Robert / 6 Comments

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What is music but a collection of sounds and vibrations? For me it is more than that, it is two letters away from magic. At a personal level it has the power to bring pleasure, connect people together, invoke emotions and memories. Collectively it can represent a sense of belonging and national pride. It is inclusive of all age groups and generations.

Childhood
My first memory of classical music was filing into assembly at Welsh House Farm Junior and Infant School to the sound Greig’s Peer Gynt and Holst’s Planet Suite with background crackles and pops of mono vinyl recordings, it was the late 1960s after all.

Count Dracula
My appreciation of music grew during my time at secondary school in the ’70s. I remember a formative moment aged 11, as if it were yesterday of being totally captivated by Camille Saint-Saëns’ Danse Macabre. Mr Lancaster, our teacher asked us to draw what we heard. I’m sure he told us the story behind the piece as I drew a churchyard scene at night, including graves opening, skeletons appearing and a cockerel heralding the dawn. This experience resonated with me on so many different levels as I had an unhealthy fascination with horror stories and the legends of Vlad the Impaler.

An unholy din
I drove my family to the brink of despair with my attempt at learning to play the violin. Even today I am convinced that the peripatetic teacher disappeared suddenly as a result of the squeals, squawks and squalls from an instrument that in the right hands can bring joy and sadness to listeners.

Knowing my limits
I accept the fact that my musical talents are limited so I have settled into the role of appreciator. Luckily for me Birmingham City Library had a huge collection of vinyl recordings that I took full advantage in borrowing. It was a special moment after a couple of decades and living a dream that I saw Puccini’s Madame Butterfly and Holst’s Planet’s performed at the Sydney Opera House.

Even now I’m carried along on the waves of the sound of the strings when listening to Barber’s Adagio, the mournful troughs and sweeping crescendos connect with my spirit. The magic of music has been part of my world for as long as I can remember, it brings me peace.

One Little Candle Burning Bright