Lift your eyes where the roads dip and the roads rise
Seek only there
Where the grey light meets the green air
The Hermits Chapel, the Pilgrims Prayer.
(T S Eliot)
Rame Head - Cornwall
'Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.
The important thing is not to stop questioning'.
It all comes down to this
Can we find the love
Take the hurt
And still Forgive ?
Ruth's home town and where we were married but.... the where doesn't really matter for the lives unlived, the dreams undreamed, the futures stolen and the shattered families
The question that haunts all of us is...
'If we have never sought, we seek Thee now;
Thine eyes burn through the dark, our only stars;
We must have sight of thorn-pricks on Thy brow,
We must have Thee, O Jesus of the Scars.
The heavens frighten us; they are too calm;
In all the universe we have no place.
Our wounds are hurting us; where is the balm?
Lord Jesus, by Thy Scars, we claim Thy grace.
If, when the doors are shut, Thou drawest near,
Only reveal those hands, that side of Thine;
We know to-day what wounds are, have no fear,
Show us Thy Scars, we know the countersign.
The other gods were strong; but Thou wast weak;
They rode, but Thou didst stumble to a throne;
But to our wounds only God's wounds can speak,
And not a god has wounds, but Thou alone'.
'Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change.
Thy pyramids built up with newer might
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange;
They are but dressings of a former sight.
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire
What thou dost foist upon us that is old,
And rather make them born to our desire
Than think that we before have heard them told.
Thy registers and thee I both defy,
Not wond'ring at the present, nor the past,
For thy records, and what we see doth lie,
Made more or less by thy continual haste:
This I do vow and this shall ever be:
I will be true despite thy scythe and thee.'
William Shakespeare - Sonnet 123
To our parents, grandparents and all those wise with years to whom we owe so much.
'When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars'.
William Butler Yeats
If these old walls could speak
Timbers from England’s oldest hotel - the ‘Royal Clarence’ in Exeter which tragically burnt down last autumn and have now been used in a sculpture outside the Cathedral.
These Timbers date from the 1500’s.
The Piano Blog
I'm trying to play the Piano for a while most days. Just improvising whatever comes into my head.
Just to capture a moment.
All these pieces are unedited, one take and so mistakes are included !
All Photographs by Ruth Field
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