Letter to Monty : Looking for signs of life in the Co-op
Dear Monty,
I have just read the blog of Alison Levey www.blackberrygarden.co.uk on signs of life in her garden. I too have been searching for the same signs this past week and like Alison, I found them in the garden.
28/2/13 Two years ten months and counting.
The cold wind remains
Stars out
Wind and stars in sweeps and curls
Around cheek and jawline
A beauty not mine.
Remember 4 pots !
2/3/13 Forgotten the meaning of 4 pots ! Like forgetting plants from the previous year in the garden. The cold and barren borders have become like my mind today.
This heart of mine is cold. We are separated only in the mind. Only the mind creates seduction, willfulness, coldness and love. All these things spring from the 'heart'.
I have been smelling the death of bees - they have a peculiar smell when they die. They are dying in the chimney, although some remain alive and fly when the air warms up outside. Death is so much on my mind, perhaps because I am reading another Henning Mankell novel. I also think of the death of a friend called Rob. I think of the empty tomb.
I am slow to love - slow to live, slow to be engaged. The separation continues. It seems almost inevitable this separation from the body - like dying.
Only now the sun breaks out above the trees - and Christ rises in my heart.
Confession is good for the soul Monty.
I have just read the blog of Alison Levey www.blackberrygarden.co.uk on signs of life in her garden. I too have been searching for the same signs this past week and like Alison, I found them in the garden.
28/2/13 Two years ten months and counting.
The cold wind remains
Stars out
Wind and stars in sweeps and curls
Around cheek and jawline
A beauty not mine.
Remember 4 pots !
2/3/13 Forgotten the meaning of 4 pots ! Like forgetting plants from the previous year in the garden. The cold and barren borders have become like my mind today.
This heart of mine is cold. We are separated only in the mind. Only the mind creates seduction, willfulness, coldness and love. All these things spring from the 'heart'.
I have been smelling the death of bees - they have a peculiar smell when they die. They are dying in the chimney, although some remain alive and fly when the air warms up outside. Death is so much on my mind, perhaps because I am reading another Henning Mankell novel. I also think of the death of a friend called Rob. I think of the empty tomb.
I am slow to love - slow to live, slow to be engaged. The separation continues. It seems almost inevitable this separation from the body - like dying.
Only now the sun breaks out above the trees - and Christ rises in my heart.
Confession is good for the soul Monty.
Signs of life. I look for them too. I find that the disconnection with the garden which has troubled me for months is becoming blurred. I am teetering on the brink of re-engagement. If I try too hard I will probably lose it so I drift in and out of the house, knit (what a powerful meditation that most men do not know) and watch the light lengthen.
ReplyDeleteAh ha, so that is what I've been missing, knitting has a rhythm to it which takes you to another place, funny but I like listening to Sue knit. I did once try to knit a pullover for my teddy (oh what a confession !)only got about 4 rows done, I think I'll stick to drawing. Thank you for this poetic comment.
DeleteSlow=real=good, Paul.
ReplyDeleteI've never smelt the death of bees. I wouldn't want to, but I guess it's one of those things that's unavoidable.
Henning Mankell's pretty grim. I was watching a series here, the Kenneth Branagh, and loving it hugely, but it takes alot out of you. Just as well it's a fiction.
Yes Henning Mankell is a bit heavy going but he is a gifted observer of human nature. My next book is going to be about a garden I think ! Good to have you back.
Delete