‘Thin Places’ In The City: Poem

20170929 THIN PLACES IN THE CITY POEM

Atop a high mountain or in the dark valley below,
in the corner of your room,
or in the hustle and bustle of the busy city centre,
may you find a ‘thin place’.

It is a place, or time, or event so unique, so full of wonder, so sublime.
A place where Heaven and earth collide,
and the diaphanous veil of separation is unusually thin.
A time where you can almost feel angelic wings beat against your cheeks,
and see the Divine smile shining through.
An event where your heartbeat quickens,
and you experience the mystery of the Other in the ‘mundane’.

A ‘thin place’ is a threshold, a limen, a holy bridge,
a door to the Throne Room, slightly opened.
It is a moment in time and space,
in which we can dwell, and dance, and move, if aware.

A ‘thin place’ is an encouragement, a sacred invitation to draw near,
to approach barefoot, in humility, in reverence and awe.
It is both seen and unseen.
Invisible we see you!

May you, in the wilderness of the countryside, or the city,
find a ‘thin place’ today, and be blessed.

 

A Prayer At Llyn Gwynant: Poem: Revisited

20170926 A PRAYER AT LLYN GWYNANT REVISTED REVISED

When the bitter winds blow,
and the rain pours onto the soul of your life.
When you stumble and fall,
and when tears well up inside, but find no release.
When friends and family are afar,
and those night-hours of abject loneliness seem altogether too close.
When bones ache,
and the future uncertain seems.
Then, may the Divine’s pure radiance pierce your darkest times,
and a spectrum of light fill your heart of hearts,
and show you, as a beacon, the narrow, sure way.

When thoughts race, and won’t be still,
and lightning rages in your mind, disturbing you.
When things seem to go awry, or indeed, when things seem to go right
but there’s an air of disquiet in your inner being.
Then, may He come to you. (He comes in the storm.)

May the Father bless you with His Divine quietness and solitude. Total stillness.
May the Son shine into the totality of your unique self. Perfect brilliance.
May the Spirit, the Divine breath, whisper into your ear that you are a much loved child of God, the apple of His eye. Unconditional grace.

And may you, wherever you find yourself, experience the ‘thin place’ of God’s inestimable presence.

Become The Duet [Revisited]: Poem: Celtic Connectedness

20170912 BECOME THE DUET REVISITEDBeing in london for a while longer, I miss the wilderness of Capel Curig, north Wales. Capel Curig has such a wild-peace about it, and London by contrast is hectic. And, right now, though I miss the solitude, London is where I am. However, it is an amazing city.

The drawback is that it can be overwheleming, and ‘up close and personal’. It can be full of disctractions which pull you in competing directions, and yet for myself, one who loves the countryside and the lights of London, an ‘amphibian’, London is a wonderful, inspiring city.

But, oh the distractions. It’s easy to forget to ask those big questions, easy to forget to pause and ponder, easy to forget why each one of us is here. In London, a crowded city of eight million souls all of that is so, so easy. I am surmising it may be the same where you are (sometimes)?.

We can get so busy ‘doing’, instead of ‘being’.

We can get distracted.

We forget.

Status?

Here’s a poem I write some time ago, revisited.

Poem: Become The Duet

If we were to travel from the wild, ruggedness of Capel Curig,
near the foothills of Yr Wyddfa,
that place of green, of open-space, of dragons, myth and power;
Myrddin’s lair.

If we were to travel to the busy-ness of Old London,
that place of the ancient river of the Celts,
of crowded streets, of neon lights, Druid-energy and oh-so many people,
the Voice can be heard.

If we were to pause,
wherever we are, just for one moment,
to revel in life that is happening around us, to us, in us, through us,
we would hear the Voice.

Distractions come,
and a distancing from all that is natural seems to happen.
But, only seemingly, so.
The Voice that spoke creation into being,
thunders in the wilderness, whispers in built-up places,
but speaks, still.
The Voice can be heard, if….
…if we have ears to hear.

If we would but listen to the music of our life,
our body would sway in time to the primal beat of times of old.
If we would but gaze at beauty around us,
our mind would laugh crazily with delight at the colours seen.
If we would but ponder, and feel deep within our soul
the love-song of the Friend,
then we would know the reason why we are here.

Become the duet.

 

‘Ah, Moon And Star’: Full Moon Poem [Found Poetry]

20170807 AH MOON AND STAR FULL MOON POEMAs you know, I like to write poetry, and in the past have done so for the time of the full moon. As well as previous moon poems, and the last few days writing here about celebrating today’s full moon, here’s a poem for this particular full moon.

Ah, moon and star
you are so very far,
and yet, the moon came into the forge
in her bustle of flowering nard. *
Then fairy fire enkindles it
like a gossamer by a taper lit.

Art thou pale from weariness
of climbing heaven and gazing upon the earth?
As I gaze upon thee in the sky
a single tear of joy does moisten mine eye.

Once upon a time I heard
that the flying moon was, infact, a Phoenix bird,
but the moon has a face like the clock in the hall
and she shines on thieves on the garden wall.

When, round and full, her silvery face
swims into sight, it lights all space.
It is so sad and so beautiful, and yet
so tremulously like a dream.

Direct my footsteps through the woodland shade,
the lovers guardian, and the Muse’s aid.
Blow the trumpet at the new moon,
at the full moon, and on our feast day.
For a million light-years away
we three will meet again,
deep in the milky way.

There’s a lunar surface rarely seen.
There’s a face on it!
Maybe God’s? Who knows?

You are the moon, dear one, and I the sea.
Pour down your unstinted nimbus energy, sacred moon, on me.

This poem falls within the ‘Found poetry’ genre. That is, it ‘is a type of poetry created by taking words, phrases, and sometimes whole passages from other sources and reframing them as poetry (a literary equivalent of a collage), and by minor making changes in spacing and lines, or by adding or deleting text, thus imparting new meaning.’ It’s also an interesting way to be introduced to numerous different poets and their style. The poem, above, comes from many sources. See below:

Lines 1, 2 Emily Dickinson; Lines 3, 4 Federico Garcia Lorca; Lines 5,6 Robert William Service; Lines 7,8 Robert Louis Stevenson, Lines 9, 10  William Topaz McGonagali; Lines 13, 14 Sappho; Lines 17, 18 Dylan Thomas; Lines 19, 20 Ella Wheeler Wilcox; Lines 21, 22 Psalm 81v3 (The Book); Line 23 John Tiong Chunghoo; Lines 24, 25 Li Po; Lines 26, 27, 28 Kelly Vinal; Line 29 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu; Line 30 Walt Whitman.

*Nard (plant) or spikenard, or an aromatic oil derived from that plant.

Hymn For The Full Moon: ‘Rising Moon, So High…’ [Hymn, Poem, Liturgy]

20170801 HYMN FOR THE FULL MOONIn just over a week there will be a full moon. I know that to ancient and latter-day Celtic-Christians, Druidic-Christians, Druids and others the full moon was and is significant. Some, today, may focus more on the new moon, but for me, it is the full moon (and without judging others) that is important for ritual and celebration, or for just taking time to pause and gaze up at it in awe.

To ancient Christians the full moon was significant, it being the indicator, even today, of when Easter should take place. Indeed, there are several Psalms which heap praise on the moon and the One behind it, as do current-day Celtic Christians, Druids and others. We, each may have different ‘theologies’ but each one of us gazes at the same moon, the Earth’s faithful ‘companion’ in wonderment at its splendour.

On several occasions in the recent past I’ve used old Gaelic tunes to new words to celebrate the major seasons, and today I’ve used an old English ballad that goes back at least 350 years – Scarborough Fair, see link below – to the following words penned by myself. If you wish to use the tune for a full moon ritual for your group or for yourself, please check the tune’s link. Or, perhaps, without the tune you might like to consider reading it as liturgy or poetry.

Rising moon, so high in the sky.
Your silv’ry light is seen far and wide.
You circle the earth for all to see-ee.
Your fulsome face does smile at me.

Mighty full moon, oh stay for a while.
Shining so warmly, your wisdom descends
to friends, to lovers, you are the ice-breaker.
Reflecting the light of the Moon-maker.

Your beauty touches my heart and my soul.
Oh, thou great moon so close and so bright.
In you I become but a child
bathed in your light, your light so mild.

Praise to you, our dear Sister Moon.
In heav’n you shine so precious and fair.
We celebrate this time of full moon.
Praising the Source, the Three in One.

The tune is: Scarborough Fair (click here for the tune). When you click on that link there is a short musical preamble, and then the tune starts at 12 seconds into video and ends at 47 seconds, and that tune can then be repeated four times for the four verses above.

Notes:
v1 was inspired and based on words of the first part of Dvorak’s ‘Song to the moon’ from the opera, Rusalka.
v2 was inspired and based loosely on words of Rumi’s ‘Behind the beauty of the moon….’
v3 was inspired by  William Henry Davies’ poem entitled ‘The Moon’
v4 was inspired by a few lines from St Francis’ ‘The Canticle of the Sun’, also known as Laudes Creaturarum, and Psalm 81:3 (The Book,), and ends with the ‘Trinitarian/Three-realm formula.
Photograph, above, copyrighted and used by kind permission of Pennie Ley (click here). Bless you.

Ebb & Flow: Celtic Poetry, Liturgy, Words To Ponder Upon

20170724 EBB AND FLOW CELTIC POETRYIn life we witness and experience the great circle – the ebb and flow of the Spirit. In this world, and indeed, in this life all is in a state of flux. Everything changes. Therein lies hope. It’s summer. The circle turns, and it will soon be autumn and then winter. The circle turns, still, and winter becomes spring and so on. Ebb and flow. The following can be a(n enacted) poem, or liturgy for a ritual or service, or words for you to ponder upon in solitude, in gratitude of nature’s bounty and the Great Provider behind it all.

[Facing east]
Praise to you, Oh Supplier of air.
The wind rises as a mighty tempest and powers weather systems
and, yet as a gentle breeze, it moves leaves along the path.

Ebb and flow.

[Facing south]
Praise to you, Oh Provider of fire.
The fire scorches the earth, from which new life emerges
and, yet as small and humble flame it gives heat and light to all.

Ebb and flow.

[Facing west]
Praise to you, Oh Bringer of water.
The great seas maintain the planet’s life-equilibrium
and, yet in our homes it provides our daily, individual and essential needs.

Ebb and flow.

[Facing north]
Praise to you, Giver of earth.
The earth provides vast fields for the seed, from which nourishment grows,
and, yet  it is a reminder of the great circle of life, and death, and new life.

Ebb and flow.

The Rainbow Blessing [Celtic Poem, Liturgy & Blessing]

20170710 RAINBOW BLESSINGWe live in a universe full of vibrant colour, and though we can only see part of the spectrum, what we can see is wonderful in its beauty.

We can witness the yellow radiance of the daily new-born sun as it rises above the horizon, to the deep red colour of evening and sunset. Grass, trees, flowers, a superabundance of insects and animals, nature arrayed in all its beauty is set before us in a blaze of colour, to gaze upon in awe and for us to be blessed.

The following, then, may be used as a poem for yourself or as liturgy in a ritual, and as a blessing to you and others:

Title: The Rainbow Blessing

May the blessing of the red sun as it sinks below the horizon be yours.
May the blessing of orange, the colour of flame and hearth be yours.
May the blessing of the wild, green earth and all life be yours.
May the blessing of the blue sea and wind which calls forth waves upon it be yours.
May the blessing of indigo, the twilight colour of change and coolness be yours.
May the blessing of violet, the colour of majesty and might be yours.
And may all the colourful blessings of the God Of The Rainbow be upon you and yours, now and always.

Blessings, Tadhg

 

 

Hiaku #9: Mundānus? Or, ‘The Man In The Window’

20170608 HAIKU 9 MUNDANUSAs you know I really like the traditional haiku – short poems consisting of three lines, and the lines containing firstly five syllables, then seven, then five.

Here’s some recent haiku penned by yours truly with you in mind, preceded by a brief introduction.

My late dad used to look forward to our thrice-weekly visit to a local café, and if he could, he would always choose a table by one of the large windows that overlooked a busy main road. Talking, supping coffee, reading on his kindle or gazing out of the café window and watching people, buses and cars going by, he loved the simple things in life, and lived life to the full. He referred to himself, jokingly, as the man in the…well, best to read the haiku, below.

Watching the world pass.
Enthralled by its pace. The ‘man
in the window’, laughs.

Whatever work we do, we provide something unique in the universe that only we can do in our own inimitable way. There are no sacred or mundane tasks. All are the same in the sight of the Universe, the Source of All. All are creative outpourings, albeit using the broadest, but no less true, definition of that word.

Artist. Mechanic.
Office worker. Musician.
Love ‘solidified’.

And, one of the most arduous tasks, that is greatly appreciated by me when I’m in Fulham (in London) – and liked by others, I’m sure – around autumn time, is the tough work of the ‘road sweepers’, who clear the pavement so diligently of fallen leaves – a ‘slide’ hazard, when wet, to the elderly etc.

Remembering Fall.
Great workers go unnoticed?
Until now. Much loved.

What we do, and that can be outworked in a myriad of ways, has an effect whether we see the result or not, or even whether we know it or not. Be encouraged. It is easy to fall into comparing our work with others, but our creative work, service work, Christian prayers, Light-worker energy-sending, Druid rituals, liturgy or time spent in listening to others etc, and/or appreciating wonders of nature around us,  are all equally magnificent, of worth and greatly valued. If it seems no one notices, rest assured that the Source of All notices, and blessings will come back to you, albeit in different ways, a thousand-fold.

Words of love, actions,
thoughts, ritual, liturgy.
All have great meaning.

And, my final haiku for today, a blessing to you for reading this, is below:

You are greatly loved.
The Source of All sings to you
and those whom you love.

Blessings, Tadhg

 

[Apologies for the misspelling of the word haiku. Ooops. To err is human.]

 

FIREFALL 2017: A POEM/HYMN/LITURGY FOR THIS TIME

20170601 FIREFALL 2017 22This Sunday it is fifty days since Easter and in the calendar of some people that makes it Pentecost. To others, it’s about three weeks to the summer solstice (and the time when I shall be joining my Christian/Celtic-Druidic Brethren and Druids (and others) at Stonehenge) and a time of preparation and looking forward.

Respecting others’ traditions, it struck me that fire is the common thread here. Fire, blessing, newness, understanding, outpouring, gratitude, regardless of our many and splendid, varied and awesome traditions and interpretations it is a time of remembrance and celebration.

This commonality ‘lifts’ us out of the mundane-only way of thinking and propels us to a higher plane, an objective way of understanding and perceiving, a new way of looking at the world around us in all its splendour. Spiritual experience, regardless of our spiritual pedigree, takes us higher and higher, and as we look around the dross that is burned off – one usefulness of fire – we see  what is left behind, and  what really matters – and for all of us that can, and should be, surprising.

We need that fire, today. Pentecost and/or the summer solstice are wonderful events to give gratitude and to seek (another, or further, or greater awareness of) infilling.

Oh, Sun of Righteousness for All
as on that ancient day
when you looked upon us,
you smiled on humankind
and let your fire fall.

Let your fire fall
Let your fire fall
Let your fire fall on us, today.

Oh, Benevolent Sharer of All
shine your light and understanding now,
newness in mind, and body,
and in spirit, too.
Whisper long-sought words of wisdom to all.

Let your fire fall
Let your fire fall
Let your fire fall on us, today.

Oh, Power Behind It All
may we know the heat of pure desire.
To be, to do, to act in love, authentically,
May our hearts and minds be open
to hear your enlightened call.

Let your fire fall
Let your fire fall
Let your fire fall on us, today.

In a world of long shadows,
grant us, yet another fire-fall.

Celtic Poem: Bach Ac Yn Gyflym [Revisited]

20170530 BACH AC YN GYFLYM REVISITED POEMI’m back in Capel Curig, the location of my north Wales ‘cottage’ in the wilderness, and have just walked to the far, northern end of the garden. It’s wonderful to gaze upon distant clouds, nearby trees, unbridled nature, rampant fecundity, lush mountains.

It’s there, in the garden, that there is a small, wonderfully inviting rivulet that flows unimpeded. Even if it is unheeded, it flows. It needs no human eye to convince it of its status, but when around, it does indeed invite all to look on in wonder. And, as you look into it in awe, it looks back in a similar manner.

Mirroring. ‘Connecting’. Oneing.

I call this watery friend, this rivulet Bach ac yn gyflym. Welsh geographical place-names are very descriptive, and it seemed right to call this stream by this name.  Its name means ‘small and fast’. Very apt. Very Welsh.

In this rugged, wild, grey-green place,
Bach ac yn gyflym, that ancient stream flows.
Downstream represents that past, of days gone by,
the old, the familiar and known.
It is an empty plate of cakes, just crumbs, now gone; it is yesterday’s meal.

This flowing water is time.

I surmise that you look upstream! Most do.
Upstream is unfamiliar.
It is tomorrow charging towards us and becoming ‘now’.
It isn’t red-shift; it is blue-shift.
It isn’t the past, it is the future.
It is potential, opportunity,
a ribbon of possibility reaching out toward us.
It is the unknown. A challenge. A risk. An adventure.

Time could be the harbinger of good or of bad,
however we define those mysterious words.
And yet Rumi’s wisdom of old, words of invitation
to accept those who knock at the door of one’s life echo loud.
For in playing host to all,
we may accept a benevolent ‘guide’ from beyond,
and grow in stature.

The flowing water is time.

As I stand motionless and observe, the water flows and yet so do I.
A body that ages.
A mind that thinks.
A heart that beats involuntarily.
A planet that spins. And one that orbits.
A solar system that moves.
Tempus fugit.

Everything is in a state of flux.

And so, like you, I look upstream.
Could this be Bach ac yn gyflym or even Pishon?
But, I crane my neck and look upstream,
for it is from there that the Spirit calls out to all of us by name.
The Bat Kohl whispers in the desolation, the forest, even in the city.
Her activity is recorded in the past, felt in the present, and reverberates to us from the future.

The flowing water is time.