Age is not the enemy.


Modern western culture portrays old age as somthing scary, ugly, the end of all the good stuff, to be fought veheminately. Celebrities go to great lengths to stave off its onslaughts with diets, creams and cosmetic surgery till they look like walking skulls.

I remember the East where old age is venerated due to its wisdom, the old retired couples in China dancing in the park every evening, dining out surrounded by their children and grandchildren and how natural it seemed.

Part is due to the much healthier lifestyle (you seldom see old Chinese with a stick let alone a walker or wheelchair) and family ties are far stronger. The widow or widower helping with the grandkids seldom find themselves lonely. Old age is seldom lamented, rather seen it as a time of well deserved rest and enjoyment. There’s almost a holiday spirit about it.

How far have we in the west strayed from the natural concept of age. I came across the phrase, “old age is only disappointing if we find ourselves older in years without growing closer to God.” This also set me thinking. Feeling our lives have been well lived, looking back with satisfaction and forward with expectation gives peace.

The frantic striving to live every second because there are new wrinkles etc. so full of fear, for cancer, for strokes, for disabilities, drains us of the joys of old age. Growing closer to God brings peace and wisdom and with it the ability to enjoy this golden age slowly, deeply, like a vintage wine. We once knew this.

Age is opportunity no less

Than youth itself, though in another dress;

And as the evening twilight fades away,

The sky is filled with stars invisible by day.

(Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)


A pregnant pause.


I’ve always felt the days between Christmas and New Year a time of evaluation, a time to reset my compass. It could make sense to celebrate new year on the 23rd of December, winter solstice, when night recedes, and days begin to lengthen, but perhaps it’s better this way. No one knows when Christ was born, but Dec. 25th seems a good choice, when “light comes to the world”.

He didn’t come with a trumpet blast, a sudden dramatic arrival. Rather He slid in quietly, as a tiny babe. (Much like our deepest resolutions, known only to those closest). Though greeted by angels and shepherds, and later prophets and wise men, his arrival was unknown to the vast majority, who were unaware of any change.

It was thirty years before His big public ministry began. Isn’t that how change usually comes? Begun by a define choice, a point of time we commit to a course of action, it’s manifestation appears slowly. Often there are things we must learn and experience before we can fully embrace our goal.

Christmas was commitment when Christ took the first step, by being born in the flesh. He had yet to expose himself to public scrutiny, to heal the sick, to walk on water, to die for us. He had choice as we do. At any point in those 33 years he could have thrown in the towel and walked away to hide in obscurity, but birth was his first commitment, when it all began.

So, I like to take time to ponder my path. Heart cleansed by the remaining gifts of Christmas, love, compassion, unity, I pray about my path and reset my compass for the year ahead.

My garden in the sky.


Back to my personal place, the place that’s me, where I can watch unnoticed all that passes below, partake in the vibes of distant conversations without being burdened by understanding or reply. A place where the sky fills two thirds of my vision, and surprises me in sudden glimpses of breathtaking splendor, where I can see the far off hills, be aware of the old church, rooted through the centuries, without the need to visit. Here were God seems closer than my last week away.

Yes that house is far bigger, it has not just a balcony by a beautiful ornate garden, not just  bathrooms, but outdoor hot tub. It’s far more beautifully furnished than mine, has spare bedrooms, a library and study, even a working fireplace and chimney. All these things I love, yet it seems empty even when all the  family are there. The dog is my comfort, we sit, each missing in our different ways. I rub his ears and watch too many movies in an effort to pass the time till my duties are over and I can pass it all back to its rightful owners.

They like it here, anyone would, it has everything ones heart could desire, all but one, my little garden in the sky is the place God and I chat, a place of renewing, somehow his humility doesn’t sit well with opulence – neither does my heart.

It reminds me of a favourite song:

“Make me the king of a vast domain,

With cups of pleasure to ease the pain.

I’d hate it all without Him…”

Life is like that, things can never fill the empty place within. It’s so good to be home where everything reflects our life together, small, cosy, warm spirited – here I can write again.

The universal present (pause before opening.)


As the joys of Christmas fade I remind myself that Christmas was not an end but a new beginning. Shortly after its demise as the days imperceptibly grow brighter as winter solstice has passed, young and old, rich and poor, of every nation, we each receive a present, a brand new year!
It comes unsullied from its box, (as life comes each day). As I get older I treasure time more and more (not knowing when my allocation here will be up). While never one for hastily drawn up resolutions (to eat healthy, remember to do my yoga, finalize various writing projects etc.) I do like to pause in these few days before I “open my present” to look at the larger picture.
Is there something more I’m meant to do during my time here? I ask. Am I still on course for my life goals or do adjustments need to be made? Am I ready to surf the waves of life, to catch the fresh wind in my sails? These are the big questions that preclude the smaller resolutions that help take us there.
I look at the present, sitting awaiting me and I ponder.

Life’s tragic tale.



How very applicable to life!

We all start with the same kind of potential. Do we let the harsh sun of reality dry up our souls till we become like raisins, old and withered, or, do we allow ourselves, (though downtrodden by dominant feet) to take in life sustaining moisture, endure a long fermentation process, in which our very nature slowly changes (often in the dark) to become a heart warming, joy giving, substance welcome at any gathering?

The choice is ours!

A happy bunny day!



I am a very happy bunny (if a little exhausted!lol!). Today was my first time to learn how speed boats work, help paddle a catamaran (along with an expert and two very enthusiastic handicapped teenagers), and get my initiation in how to sail a real sailing boat (in long term preparation to eventually take handicapped youngsters out sailing.).

Picture the perfect sunny day, a slight breeze, a still lake adorned with swans and wildfowl, excellent company and learning something new and you’ll see why I’m such a happy bunny!