Tag Archives: seeing
Hope spring eternal in the human breast and in the flower beds.
My hope is to reflect the beauty around me, rather than ugliness and destruction. Like the puddle and the pond if I care to gaze long enough to see not what is on the bottom but what it is reflecting, … Continue reading
A time is coming when men will go mad, and when they see someone who is not mad, they will attack him saying, ‘You are mad, you are not like us. ~Abba Anthony
Poor Grandma tree, the weight of snow and howling winds were too much to bear. The second limb this winter has fallen to the ground. What remains still stands tall and straight after more than 800 years of standing sentry … Continue reading
Wind is howling around us branches and trees falling, gusts shake the house. I don’t like winter storms. And though I feel safe inside by a warm fire I’d rather it would stop blowing.
Like standing on the edge of a white sand beach when the tide is low and the sky is clear Nothing mars the perfect landscape devoid of all regrets or fear. ©2019 Sharron R. McMillan
Sometimes I wonder why you seemed to take so long to send a saviour to our earth when things had gone so wrong. So many years of killing, of terror for the young, hatred and destruction, so little hope … Continue reading
Though I often wish for family traditions to fall back on I’m glad we haven’t many. Tradition bends one to doing and being and performing without the need for thought or question. It’s time we questioned what we do … Continue reading
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without … Continue reading
Mindfulness changes the brain. . . How we pay attention promotes neural plasticity, the change of neural connections in response to experience. ~Psychiatrist and brain researcher Daniel J. Siegel in his book: “The Mindful Brain: Reflection and Attunement in the … Continue reading
All the leaves and all the dreams of summer fallen to the ground, unfinished plans like warm duvets of colour in a mound left out in the cold until spring comes back around. ©2018 Sharron R. McMillan