Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

….said someone once upon a time in a story.

Instagram – where memes and selfies reside, and some other photos.Pinterest – where memes reside, collections of photos which tend to be decent but who knows where they all came from. Facebook – where selfies and memes reside.
Interesting that the human race is putting itself out there with gusto, giving it all away for nowt. Not just from the here and now, but times gone by. Is this global sharing or global narcissism. Is it the only way many can be seen and heard – their art, their heart. Is there some kind of symbiotic movement happening like a murmur of starlings. Synchronicity is everything said Jung. Are we trying subconsciously to get in to synch. Maybe at some point, the magical formula will appear and ping, we’re swimming like a shoal of herring.
What’s missing? The future’s missing. Where’s the vision.
Who’s observing, who’s listening. Timing, of course, is everything. Wait…wait…wait.
I don’t feel the moment yet. I’ll let you know when I do.

In the meantime, I am reading  three collections of poetry edited by Neil Astley at Blood Axe:

Being Alive, Staying Alive and Being Human. All three were recommended and I am passing forward the recommendation. Enjoy!

 

 

 

Layers

Lazy rolls of thunder, sheets of silver and pounding water on sills late at night finally burst the brief heat bubble. Everyone was out. The bus which goes every ten minutes between two old wool towns was full, stopping at every sign, we eventually reached our destination.

The difference between the two towns and their approach to regeneration is apparent. One is achieving the other is flailing. How so, when they share a common history, heritage. What does it say about visionaries in town planning and investment. Both have relied heavily on grants, with some mill owners investing in their own properties to enhance new uses of vast mills, both towns have such places.

Färben mit Pflanzen via pinterest

But vision isn’t about money, it’s about love. I can’t help but compare to cities of Italy. Small is beautiful. The artisan is appreciated, local produce desired, and from such visions of love have come a world-wide reputation.

Färben mit Pflanzen via pinterest 2

Today I did a little experiment with layering. The usual way to make filling for a pita or gibanica is to place all ingredients in a bowl and mix. This time I layered with out mixing. Two sheets of filo for the base, the fresh spinach leaves followed by cracking eggs directly on top, then grating the courgette. Finally a layer of filo. The result was an enticing picture of colours and flavours, brought to life. Like winter in to spring. Am loving greens and yellows right now.

 

Starting over

I am, I’m starting over again. Retracing steps, gingerly. No giving up or in, but keeping on. And I’m not going to talk about it either – the thing I’m doing again. It involves writing and reading. There, that’s all I will say.

It was this passage in The Alchemist that provided some inspiration after months of darkness and difficulties.

The old man leafed through the book, and fell to reading a page he came to. The boy waited, and then interrupted the old man just as he himself had been interrupted. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because you are trying to realise your destiny. And you are at the point where you’re about to give it all up.”

Doubt can eat a person up. Many things in life conspire to stop we humans from sticking with it. I owe it to myself and my closest to not walk away from the discipline required, the solace, the peace. I have to tune back in to my intuition.