For centuries on centuries

we have been wandering

but we were made for Paradise

as deer for the forest.

And when music comes to us

with its heavenly beauty

it brings us desolation,

for when we hear it

we half remember that lost native country.

We dimly remember the fields,

their fragrant windswept clover,

the birdsongs in the orchards,

the wild white violets in the moss

by the transparent streams.

And shining at the heart of it

is the longed-for beauty

of the One who waits for us

who will always wait for us

in those radiant meadows

yet also came to live with us

and wanders where we wander.

–by Anne Porter– Opening poem chosen and read by Amy W.

Three words came to mind – majesty, wander, and wonder. I feel so blessed to be able to wander and appreciate the wonder and majesty of this place we call home-paradise!

— Photos and reflection by Bonnie L.

Walking this cold morning in silence along the sidewalk between ponds, three of us stopped and looked out over the water.  Between two bushes, an opening, to see a handful of ducks and an egret.

I hear this exchange:

“I wonder if they’re freezing?”

“Maybe, maybe not”

“It’s their life”

“They were designed for it.”

I heard the words, but the possible meaning lingered the rest of the walk for me.  Do the ducks and egrets take in stride the bitter cold, do they know they are made to bear it, confident in the design of their bodies?  Are we designed for what is ours to experience, to hold both the breadth and weight of burdens as well as joys? Do we trust in the design that enables us not to “freeze”?

— Reflection by Amy W, with Kathy and Peggy W.

Stopping at one spot on the walkway, overlooking a pond:

“Look at that!  The water there is still and here it is moving, still and moving at the same time.”  

Peggy’s observation was true:  above the branch, the distant water seemed motionless, but closer to us, its ripples and waves were obvious.  These remembered words of TS Eliot immediately popped in my mind: “we must be still and still moving, into another intensity, for a further union.”

I went home after our walk, and pulled out my ancient copy of his Four Quartets: “…except for the point, the still point [of the turning world], there would be no dance, and there is only the dance.”  His poetry matched my experience today–a shared still moment of timelessness, a touch of eternity.

— Reflection by Amy W, with Peggy W, and TS Eliot

Ever stand back and notice the fallen pine needles draped over branches?  Nature’s tinsel!  Fun to see on this last walk of the year. 

— Observation by Amy W

— Photo by Nancy L.