A series of recent conversations and coincidences discovered along the way have prompted me to navigate the not uncomplicated pathway to log back in to this Blog.
It has been like meeting and sitting down for a cup of tea with an old friend. Well, a pot of tea, perhaps.
Whilst I have continued writing since last posting in this forum, I have done so far less regularly, despite being anything short of inspiration.
And so, without any pledge or commitment, but rather with an intention to pursue with curiosity something which feels to call to me in this moment, I am delighted to begin again.
As I do so, the below words of a poem I have read aloud a great many times, to myself and into circles during mindfulness trainings, come to mind.
Begin again to the summoning birds
to the sight of the light at the window,
begin to the roar of morning traffic
all along Pembroke Road.
Every beginning is a promise
born in light and dying in dark
determination and exaltation of springtime
flowering the way to work.
Begin to the pageant of queuing girls
the arrogant loneliness of swans in the canal
bridges linking the past and future
old friends passing though with us still.
Begin to the loneliness that cannot end
since it perhaps is what makes us begin,
begin to wonder at unknown faces
at crying birds in the sudden rain
at branches stark in the willing sunlight
at seagulls foraging for bread
at couples sharing a sunny secret
alone together while making good.
Though we live in a world that dreams of ending
that always seems about to give in
something that will not acknowledge conclusion
insists that we forever begin.
— From The Essential Brendan Kennelly
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