Children

“Your children are not your children. They are sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. They come through you but not from you. And though they are with you yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, For thir souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday. You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. The archer sees the make upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness. For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He also loves the bow that is stable.” Khalil Gibran

Spiritual mentors

There is always someone who impacts your life immensely - this lovely man has spoken words that still resonate with me years later and many thousands of miles away. His name is Kumi, he is a spiritual teacher at the Spiritual Centre in Craighall, Johannesburg, South Africa. One of his little asides still stays with me, he said 'Flowers are no good on the grave, make sure you give them while the person is still alive'

Lovers

There are lovers content with longing.
I’m not one of them.

Rumi

(thanks to inertiaK for image)

Blessings for Samhain to everyone

DREAMING STONES
Go to a boundary stream with closed eyes, take from the water three stones between middle
finger and thumb, saying these words as each is gathered:

Togaidh Mise chlach
Mar a thog Moire da Mac
Air bhri?gh, air bhuaidh,'s air neart:
Gun robh a chlachsa am dhi?rn,
Gus an ruig mi mo cheann uidhe

(I will lift the stone
As Mary lifted it for her Son
For substance, virtue, and strength
May this stone be in my hand
Till I reach my journey's end)

Carry them home carefully and put them under your pillow. Ask for a dream that will give you
guidance or solution to a problem. The stones will bring it for you.

Apples are significant at this time of year. I light a candle next to an apple and open my front door to
send love and joy to my family and friends.

Blessings



With thanks to Anamcara and Kees Sman

Inspiration!

Whenever I need inspiration from other women, I immediately think of Audrey Hepburn, who, in her youth was stunningly beautiful, and in her last days an ambassador for those less fortunate than herself.

I love this unusual photograph of her!!

St Swithin's Day

St Swithun's day if thou dost rain
For forty days it will remain
St Swithun's day if thou be fair
For forty days 'twill rain no more

St Swithin was an Anglo-Saxon bishop of Winchester who gained a reputation for posthumous miracle-working after his death in c. 862.

St Swithun looking very serious indeed

St Swithun's church

A legend says that as the Bishop lay on his deathbed, he asked to be buried out of doors, where he would be trodden on and rained on. For nine years, his wishes were followed, but then, the monks of Winchester attempted to remove his remains to a splendid shrine inside the cathedral on 15 July 971. According to legend there was a heavy rain storm either during the ceremony or on its anniversary.

This led to the old wives' tale (folklore) that if it rains on St Swithin's Day (July 15th), it will rain for the next 40 days in succession, and a fine 15th July will be followed by 40 days of fine weather. co

Well, thank goodness it's not raining in East Sussex, it is a beautiful day!!!

NOD

I was compiling a book of poetry for my seven year old grandchild, remembering the poetry that my mother read to me as a child.  This one was my favourite:

NOD by Walter de la Mare 1873-1956

Softly along the road of evening,  
    In a twilight dim with rose,  
Wrinkled with age, and drenched with dew  
    Old Nod, the shepherd, goes.  
  
His drowsy flock streams on before him, 
    Their fleeces charged with gold,  
To where the sun's last beam leans low  
    On Nod the shepherd's fold.  
  
The hedge is quick and green with briar,  
    From their sand the conies creep;
And all the birds that fly in heaven  
    Flock singing home to sleep.  
  
His lambs outnumber a noon's roses,  
    Yet, when night's shadows fall,  
His blind old sheep-dog, Slumber-soon,
    Misses not one of all.  
  
His are the quiet steeps of dreamland,  
    The waters of no-more-pain;  
His ram's bell rings 'neath an arch of stars,  
    "Rest, rest, and rest again."

(painting 'Shepherd with a flock of sheep' Vincent van Gogh)