Reflective Mood

It was a beautiful day today. The sun shone and the frost stayed under foot all day. When I took Tottie for her walk I sat on my favourite seat and let the sun rest on my lids. When I opened them Tottie was playing with two lively cockers and when I called the owner came over and started a conversation. He was as lively as his cockers and we sat there gathering people around us. The sunshine brings out the best in the English or in this case the Welsh for he and his dogs came from Cardigan. When the sun set he gave me his card and we said goodbye. His name is Ken and he comes up to my shoulder. He is also married. I came home feeling exhilarated by the connection but when I looked in the mirror I saw that my hat made me look like a basset hound. No wonder I had attracted a dog lover.

I am enjoying writing my blog but fear I do it instead of really relating. I notice that everyone’s doing it; speaking into the void. As I walk I see people acting a bit care in the community and then realise they are wired. Everyone’s wired to something or someone and here am I trying my hardest to be real and to be here. I must make a decision about Giles. It’s not fair to keep him hanging around while I wait for my journeyman. I thought Giles was my gift from the Universe but I suspect that I was wrong. The enduring strength of love is to know the measure that the other has of good and evil, wisdom and foolishness and knowing it in stark simplicity, still want to make the long journey by his side. I know in my heart that for me the long journey is solitary but that doesn’t stop me from dreaming. Is that culture? brainwashing? media? cinema?

People write poems when they want to express the inexpressible. I like this one very much, for reasons that will no doubt reveal themselves in time. It is by Anna Swirszczynska (sorry I can’t type the accents, I don’t know how to)

The Greatest Love

She is sixty. She lives
the greatest love of her life.

She walks arm-in-arm with her dear one,
her hair streams in the wind.
Her dear one says
‘You have hair like pearls’.

Her children say:
‘Old fool.’

I wont be emailing Ken.


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