Another powerful session: Adrienne introduced her Mindfulness with the support of Sound practice with
The Sound of the Sea
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep,
And round the pebbly beaches far and wide
I heard the first wave of the rising tide
Rush onward with uninterrupted sweep;
A voice out of the silence of the deep,
A sound mysteriously multiplied
As of a cataract from the mountain's side,
Or roar of winds upon a wooded steep.
So comes to us at times, from the unknown
And inaccessible solitudes of being,
The rushing of the sea-tides of the soul;
And inspirations, that we deem our own,
Are some divine foreshadowing and foreseeing
Of things beyond our reason or control.
Bev offered two possible writing prompts from the poem Summer Farm by Norman MacCaig
with metaphysic hand I lift the lid and see
or
a hen stares at nothing with one eye
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And now for some of
YOUR WRITING:
With metaphysic hand I lift the lid…
by Claire Bolger
With metaphysic hand I lift the lid and see memories of others calling out to me. They got deposited there over time, many footfalls on stairs, bringing their offerings to the attic of my mind. Left there for safe keeping. A sanctuary of sorts. I play them back through me when I walk the sands of my time. Take in the sea as it pushes at my toes and listen. I go deeper in, let it bathe me, paddling all the way to the end of the line. And there I see another creature like me on the sand. Seal eyes that are open to the depths.
Inspired by Norman McCaig, from Summer Farm
by Beccy Golding
“A hen stares at nothing with one eye”
… but with the other it examines the ground for seeds and grit that will help it grow shells to form around the eggs it will hatch. Our pet hen, Cassie, would sometimes lay eggs with soft shells, held together by the inner sac, surface tension just holding, like a pond with water boatmen skating. She’d lay double yolks too sometimes, and race us to the back door when we opened her run – racing to the dog food in the kitchen. Sometimes I’d hold a half bitten Malteser between my teeth and she’d peck at the honeycomb. Peck, peck, gauging her peck with one eye, still accurate, and one eye staring at nothing, or something, the blue of the sky before it falls in, the missile, the meteor, the comet, ready to cluck and scrabble, the same way she did – she could never contain herself – the same way she would announce an egg she had laid, and I would wonder, if ever she could keep a secret, maybe she could brood her egg and hatch it, maybe there would be a chick. But she was not a secret keeper, proclaiming her eggs, dashing for doors, pecking for food. As a chick we kept her in a kitchen drawer with a layer of newspaper, and even when she had a garden to scrabble in she’d run to a newspaper and scuff and peck the newsprint. Maybe she was reading all the news that was in the world, with one eye down and one eye to the sky.
untitled
by Kath Higgens
Afraid of where a thought might take me
I sink down into my body
ably guided by a gentle voice.
How good it feels to have a companion
in this dark and lonely place.
I hear the starlings scrabbling on the tin roof,
I look out afar at mountains, still and stately.
How much safer it is to stay with these
sounds and sights that save me from my thoughts.
Remember, I tell myself, with all the compassion I can muster,
to return again and again over the next hours
to this safe place, this body, this sensate location –
afraid of where a thought might take me
a hen stares at nothing (after Norman MacCaig)
by Hilaire
her egg coddling inside her
not yet ready to enter the world
the jelly shell trembling towards crisp solidity
albumen and yolk still considering
their yin and yang relationship
mother hen withholding her cluck
paused in her sifting for food
as a sunbeam lights on a likely patch
for settling
for puffing of feathers
and laying of plans.
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Thanks to you all ...
... for your heartening feedback as always!
Kay: thankyou me thankyou Adrienne thankyou everyone
Kay: perfect
Joyce: thank you Adrienne - you are wonderful xxx
Jules: Lovely and soothing Adrienne...
Kath: thank you to our two wonderful facilitators
Adrienne: Thank you everyone
Hilaire: That was wonderful Adrienne - thank you
Bev: with metaphysic hand I lift the lid and see or a hen stares at nothing with one eye
Jules: That's amazing Angie, and I believe God is in all..
Beccy: Fab - love it!
Beccy: love the list
Kath: Lovely, Angie
Helen: beautiful...the jeans of my ancestors, and the eves pudding..wonderful
Hilaire: Love that Angie!
Jules: So powerful Cath..
Helen: Sorry about that Bev
Lesley: really powerful Cath, loved the line about the sword of war thrust into innocent hearts. x
Joyce: brilliant Beccy x
Jules: Wonderful Beccy. I want hens!
Adrienne: me too
Helen: really good journey that too us on..hung on every word..Beccy
Beccy: love the sum up in the last line
Jules: That is so simple but deep Sally..
Helen: many footfalls on stairs...haunting
Jules: beautiful Claire..
Beccy: my mind created beautiful images listening to that.
Beccy: "the panic of surviving" - great line
Lesley: Claire, loved that, especially memories of other calling out to me..and the footfall on the stairs. x
Beccy: so many amazing words in there!
Kath: Lovely, Kay
Jules: You took me on that journey with you kay, the scudding swallows.. fabulous!!
Jules: Ive lost sound again will rejoin..
Helen: beautiful endings
Jules: All these poems are worthy of an anthology....
Jules: Thank you another great session.
Joyce: thankyou xx I will miss you all next week - go well xx
Angie: thank you everyone for a wonderful morning. xx
Kay: wonderful session thanks to everyone kx
Helen: wonderful...thanks for all your sharing and support
Hilaire: Thank you everyone! That’s set me up for the rest of the day
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Lapidus Scotland gratefully acknowledges the support of Glasgow City Health and Social Care Partnership via the Wellbeing for Longer in Glasgow Fund managed by Impact Funding Partners