Monday, 28 June 2010
Tomorrow sees the P7s leavers' assemblies.
It's always fun and challenging sending young folk on to the next stage of their journey through life with encouragement and hope.
I like these words of WB Yeats:
I have spread my dreams under your feet
For you tread on my dreams.
Yeats wrote these words for the love of his life but it seems to me that they are words that can be spoken, in love, for all our young people, exhorting them to never give up on their dreams.
Saturday, 26 June 2010
Tuesday, 22 June 2010
Monday, 21 June 2010
One year, in Mull with a friend, on the longest day, we celebrated in a Druid stone circle. Awesome. Our ancestors knew what they were about when they chose their special sites. I'm glad we haven't fathomed their rhyme and reason - mystery is good.
Friday, 18 June 2010
Monday, 14 June 2010
Thursday, 10 June 2010
By the time I got to Ardrossan, the sun was a fiery ball just ready to set fire to the hills as it sank quickly out of view. It took away that dreary "not another meeting" feeling.
Tuesday, 8 June 2010
Though I love the sun, there is something about the summer rain that brings healing and peace. Giving thanks for that today.
Saturday, 5 June 2010
It's not often you get to celebrate your wedding day in Scotland with a paddle on the beach. But this evening was so beautiful that when the photographer called for a beach shot, some of the guests simply couldn't resist indulging in the remarkably warm water.
Congratulations to Carol and Ewan.
Tuesday, 1 June 2010
Stones - washed up on the beach
worn down by years of agitation
buffed and shaped and chiseled
now objects of intrigue
carriers of mystery
Where have they been?
What have they encountered?
How many storms?
How many days languishing in the sun?
What hands have picked them over and then discarded
tossed back for someone else to enjoy.
And what of them now?
Is this the end of their journey.
Or will the next tide sweep them away
to more adventures
Is their formation complete?
Or is there more to be accomplished.
Stones seem so solid, so unyielding
yet are shaped by the pounding of the seas
and the gentle lapping of the waves
Force isn't always needed
gentleness works too
The frail, elderly, confused folk I've spent time with this week
raise in me similar questions
With no one to tell their stories,
they are like the stones,
washed up, but oh so fragile
To be kept and polished and treasured
For they have seen much and travelled far
and their journey is not yet ended
The tide has brought them this far,
deposited them in our care
and with gentleness
we can cherish them
until we lovingly see them
onto the next leg of their journey.
Liz Crumlish June 2010