Mist in the hollow, fine day to follow

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That is as maybe, but the mist I saw last night went on to engulf the whole of our coast line. It was a strange sight and not one I can remember seeing before. It was coming up the river mouth until the whole of Middlesbrough, Eston and Redcar was under a blanket of grey. The cloud was so low that you could see the tall industrial chimneys and structures peering over the top and with the sun going down - I couldn't resist hanging out of the side window and taking a couple of shots.

Again I feel I need to apologise for not writing more often and yes I have been out and about a lot; but I miss writing more than you do reading. So, I decided recently to write a book. Now I am going to be realistic and say it will probably take me between 1-2 years and no I have no experience so we will just have to wait and see. It was a few weeks ago when I was talking to a young person and asking what she was going to do with herself over the summer vacation; If I had 8-weeks to do what I liked, I would write a book; (I said without thinking), so why don't you came a voice as I traveled to Kent the other weekend.

Kent was a crazy weekend, meeting up with friends, we were invited down to a local festival and the big event was Music in the Park with tribute bands Abba and Queen. 70's music still gets my feet tapping and I did manage a shuffle in my sandals, we had a great time and the 5 hour journey both ways gave me time to outline the book.

My knee has been playing up recently so I decided it was time for a nice walk on the beach. The weather has been so good (we are really not used to it) and I set a marker in the distance, to where I thought would be a good place to turn around and walk back. The beach was crowded near the town but as I headed off the sounds soon faded. I had seen earlier the drawings and names written in giant size upon the sand as I headed down the cliff steps; I walked through the drawing of a castle, complete with tower, drawbridge and cannon. Stones, sand, seaweed and shells; the sound of the sea, wildlife and wind (oh yes, it is always windy here). The more I saw the more I began to think, the drawings would only last till the next tide although the artists had already left the shore. Shells of creatures long vacated now decorate the beach with their colour and shape. Stones being made into pebbles, washed and ground, chipped and smashed; revealing something new from long long ago. A friend of mine is a geologist and could pick up most of this stuff and give a short lecture on each one. I realised I was walking in a time zone spanning centuries and little me kicking up stones and turning over shells, when they talk about the sands of time I always think of those nice tidy egg timers - but these really are sands of time.

Note to evening office: Help me to see people as stones and shells; unique, and each one has a story.
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The simple life

Looking for inspiration I glance through blogs and gaze out of the window; trying to think of something profound to write about. To be honest life has been pretty ordinary recently, very busy and fraught with oncoming changes but ordinary. We really don't like change and any tactics to delay the process creep into our daily life. But change happens as sure as sun comes up in the morning and there is nothing you or I can do about it. I saw a quote (somewhere) that said Today is the Tomorrow you worried about Yesterday; makes a lot of sense. So do we prepare for all eventualities and meet tomorrow head on or wrap ourselves up in a blanket of yesterdays?

We have missed a lot of yesterdays as I haven't written for a long time. Two weeks ago I went to Scotland with the family, the weather was fantastic and we got to do some walking. We stayed at a lovely cottage in Balquhidder (Rob Roy country), visited Stirling castle and Wallace monument. One treat was to see Red Kites at a centre near Doune, from the hide we saw around eleven birds. It was amazing to see how manoeuvrable they are despite their enormous 5-foot wingspan.

I was walking down the lane early one morning and decided to set my camera to manual focus, in the hopes of catching a deer or red squirrel; just at that moment a red squirrel ran right past me (within 2-feet) – off down the lane bushy tail bouncing along. I was so surprised it took a while to pick up my camera and try to catch him. He was more orange than red, like a hair dye gone wrong, other red squirrels are a deep red, it was like something out of Narnia.

I have been quite blessed for walking recently as the car has been out of action. It started in Scotland, an intermittent ignition fault that finally cut out completely last week. So I have been walking to the drop-in all week; down through the woods, over the stepping stones and up by the old mill, along valley gardens and into the town (great). But the car is back now and I guess I am back the old routine.

Last weekend we took a bunch or kids away and stayed at an activities centre; we climbed trees, abseiled, did some archery, orienteering, a night walk and went down a very high zip wire. Yes of course I went on all of these (I am not too old to enjoy myself). It was good to see the changes in the kids over the weekend; one young lad stopped half way up the baby tree, but before the end of the weekend he had mastered the daddy tree, abseiled and gone down the big zip wire.

Note to evening office: So what is profound and important to share? The simplicity of our life today and tomorrow, with all its images and sounds, feelings and thoughts (reflection).

Lindisfarne - a thin place

Perched in a prayer hole part way down the cliff, I spent a few hours watching the tide come in. St Cuthbert island is seen in the photo above and Bambrough castle was in the distance further to my left (second picture). Further round still is the Farne islands themselves.
So peaceful just listening to the sea, the gulls and watching the occasional seal. Taking time to soak up the history, the prayers from men of old from this Holy Island.








(right) The crypt at
Marygate house.

Thank you to the guys that shared the weekend and for illuminating John's gospel.

Ps - the beer was good too....

Wordless Wednesday

Staithes - North Yorkshire

Hold on tight to your dream...............

Electric Light Orchestra [ ELO ]
a big hit in 1981
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Wordless Wednesday

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We're having a search party

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I often start with, the friary is quiet and all are either in bed or away for the day. That's because I tend to get 5-minutes to myself and think, I know, I'll write a little. Most of my day seems to be spent with looking for something, I thought I knew where it was (but it's not). I regard myself as reasonably organised, and know the best plan is to put things back where I will be able to find it. I am convinced there are those in the house who take joy in moving things, knowing my mutterings when in search for that damn thingamajig. I began to think it was just me and I had been smitten with a lack some DNA stuff, but others tell me they have the same problem.

I met with a young friend down by the sea front the other night and we enjoyed a beer together. I was struck by a number of searchers on the beach, what had they lost? They were so intent on their search, head down and kicking up stones and seaweed. Perhaps they weren't looking for anything specific, was this part of the missing DNA syndrome? can't help searching for something (don't know what)? We would say; it's in our jeans.

I remember walking on the beach some years ago, I was going to meet a young person who had spent the night in a cell [police, not monastic]. Head down and not in a rush. I picked up a stone, it was not very spectacular, pretty ugly actually; I would usually choose something with an interesting shape to play with in my hand before throwing it into the sea. As I turned it over I could see there was a hole washed right through, that in itself is not unusual round these parts. Inside there was something rattling, a shell - white, clean and shiny inside this dirty old piece of stone. I tried to shake it out, but it wouldn't come no matter which way I turned it. I came to the conclusion that it hadn't been washed in, rather it was washed out. The shell had been enclosed inside this prehistoric mud and the sea had washed a hole through to reveal this little shell and out of all the stones, I picked it up. This stone and it's shell live at the drop-in and I often use it when I'm talking to folk about beauty within. Perhaps that is what we are all constantly searching for - beauty and peace.

Note to evening office: Read that bit about the birds of the air and the flowers, not having to worry. For what God provides is sufficient.

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