· stillpoint ·

  Yesterday evening I heard a great quote : ‘ we are living in times when the cloth is being woven .’   I found these words very evocative and have been wondering why!   You know how certain lines just suddenly hit you at an instinctive level, bypassing your reasoning and going straight to a moment of recognition.   Aha…yaaas…I didn’t realise I was waiting for these words to land in my life, but now that they are here they really describe/evoke/ define/inspire …etc.,   take your pick!    I wonder if there have been any words, or images that have had that effect on you recently?      When there is such wholesale change in our world and with more to come, our inner compass is looking for signs and clues that can help make some sense of what is happening . The phrase, the cloth being woven did that for me. Firstly I think it is because I am a great lover of tweed materials …I love the earthy robustness, the natural colours, the longevity and the sheer coolness of wearing somethin

  Change and Uncertainty I asked a friend recently how he was finding the change and uncertainty of recent days.    He replied that he doesn’t mind the uncertainty but really does not like the change.   His wife however, he said, loves change but hates the uncertainty, and as her work involves a lot of international travel she is really missing that.    Don’t you just love the incredible variety that makes up our humanity?!    This variety is seen even more at pressured times like this when we all experience what is happening in slightly different ways.   As you reflect back on your own life you can probably see where you discovered more about yourself under difficult circumstances which are often times of growth. We hear a lot about Post traumatic stress which can be very debilitating, but there is also something called post traumatic growth.   This is when we grow through situations we would never have chosen for ourselves and which looked very negative and even threatening at th

  At this time of year it's good to remember that bare  branches are one of winter's many gifts.      Spring’s hopeful unfurling, summer’s rich fullness and autumn’s treasured passing are all echoed in the seasons of our lives, and so is winter’s unveiling.    This too is gift.     Walking along the side of the canal the branches are outlined clear and stark against the water, no place to hide, the early winter sun turning the still water into a glimmer with a hint of gold.    Then we see him, the still point around which the universe moves, intent, looking at the water, poised, ready, his incandescent blue like a hidden sapphire.    It is SO easy to miss kingfishers, even in winter.    Their very stillness makes them almost impossible to see.    At least in winter if we stop and look carefully and patiently in the right places we may have a chance.    Their darting flight is so brief, sudden and unpredictable we just catch a flash out of the corner of our eye.    We stop in ou