Merry Christmas!

 Krásne a požehnané Vianoce všetkým, prichádza Vianočná Hviezda s novou silou, láskou a Svetlom..

Happy and blessed Christmas everyone, the Christmas Star has new energy, love and Light for us all...

Watermill theme 2

 ...by various artists: 

Bob Peters

A. S. Kreutz

Koukei Kojima

Charlotte Joan Sternberg

Tom Antonishak

unknown

Patrick J. Costello

Charles Wysocki

Related link:
Watermill Theme 1

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 

(Robert Frost)

Past Times: Autumn Town

 ...by the incredible Charles Wysocki:

House

A house is a face
that wears expression,
with eyes and smile
and silent voice that speaks.

A house is a face,
strong or broken,
happy or sad,
wise or reckless.

A house is a face -
modern or antique,
steady or patched up,
proud or humble,

crumbling or settled,
owned or abandoned,
blending in crowd or standing out,
beautiful or plain.

A house is a face,
familiar or strange,
and the most welcoming and precious
is called home.

Its eyes are warm,
lit with inner light
that shines into darkness.
It is part of the evening.

It goes to sleep,
eyes closed,
snuggled under blanket of stars
and lullaby of trees.

Wakes up in the morning,
bathes in sunrise,
lets busy day through the door
as a welcomed guest.

A home is a face
with understanding smile,
with fire in its hearth
that's endlessly burning,

endlessly warm and cosy,
with hearts that resonate together -
a safe haven for weary soul,
a happy haven for busy soul.

A home is a face
that makes you smile back,
with life-giving roots,
a place you call your own.

 

© Ludmila 

(Picture by Richard Burns)

The Secret Garden

 ...by the amazing Kim Norlien:

The Moment when the Morning Breaks

 

 Original Post: Kedy sa začína ráno?

In nature, transformations take place gradually and smoothly. The world is round after all and ruled by cycles. The end slowly blends into the beginning and the beginning into the end. One would think that we cannot even determine the boundaries sometimes, and if we can, they are as fine as sand and unassuming as a snowdrop; we don't even notice them.

For example, the turning point of night into day. When does the morning break? Is it when the sun's disk begins to climb above the horizon, and first shadows appear? Or is it when the dark starts to fade even before the sun rises? Or when the sky begins to lighten before the dark begins to fade?

You may have guessed it already; and if you have ever spent the night awake, you have a first-hand experience, and you know how magical it is.

Because the beginning of the day cannot be seen, but heard. It starts with the first birdsong.

Whether you are in nature, in a city or village, you can always hear it. The one herald of the morning always goes solo for at least ten to twenty minutes before the others start to join in. It is something that never ceases to amaze me. I have so many questions.

First of all - how does it know that the morning is breaking and the sun is about to rise? It always starts singing when it is still completely dark. Not even the sky is lightening up yet. Does the "all knowing" science have any explanation for this? The bird never starts exactly o'clock sharp every morning; its timing varies as the days shorten and lengthen.

Is it always the same bird that starts to sing? Or does the bird community in your immediate neighbourhood have a precise schedule of services, hung on the largest tree, that the entire society of birds follows? How come that one bird always goes solo for twenty minutes; why don't the other birds join in after a minute or two?

Every single morning, in complete darkness, before the daylight begins to gather, a bird starts to sing. Every morning. Without exception. The cycle of nature and perpetual movement forward summed up into one warble. The subtle change in nature – night blending into day, that most people don't notice or sleep through.

If the „darkest night is just before dawn“, then the deepest silence is just before the first birdsong. It is exactly the silence, the contrast of sound and absence of sound, that attracts our attention. In the middle of a summer day, when the air is filled with sounds (bird and non-bird ones), everything merges into the background of our perception. But in the silence of the night, the birdsong is like a pearl in coal. Glittering, magical and rare.

They say that silence reveals what is hidden inside us. It forces us to listen. Our heart, ego, conscience; the silence can support and deepen the good and beautiful in us, it can connect us with the Creator and everything around us, and be a blessing, but it will also reveal the nakedness of our soul if it's empty, sad, or filled with trash. That's why people tend to avoid silence and drown it out with any sound. They don't want to face themselves.

 If the silence is empty or filled with darkness and fear, remorse or hopelessness, the birdsong can disrupt it, put it in a new perspective. The first sound of a bird's voice vibrates through the air, and the night no longer seems to be static, but starts moving into the day. The darkness is no longer alarmingly dense, even though the dawn has not yet appeared. The message of light and a new beginning commences; a new hope, a new opportunity.

Isn't darkness in us really just a slowed-down, muddied light? In addition to panic and despair, are depressions not an aversion to any activity? Sleepless nights filled with the feeling of meaninglessness of everything, when a person does not want to get up and face the day. Darkness, silence, stillness - and then a bird warbles into it. With such vigor and energy, that one has to wonder. It sounds absurd and out of place when it contrasts with the lethargic inertia in our soul – but that's good, because it can help to dispel darkness and stagnation in us, take our minds off some things, and awaken something. Where does the will to sing in that bird come from? How come that I'm lacking it? How can I recover it again? It's not just a cliché, those are existential questions that delve deep into the heart in times of need. And they can save lives.

How poetic that the night concludes with a birdsong.

It doesn't belong to the night, it's a pioneer of the day. Never misses a morning. Never takes a day off. Never wastes any time. Its singing resonates in the human soul, that listens. It is an expression of constant movement in creation, which does not cease even for a minute. When you listen to a singing bird, you are in fact listening to the Creator, to His power which flows through everything and drives everything.

The only thing that separates us from this force is the lack of our longing, our will to be connected with it. If you hear a bird singing after a bleak wakeful night, and it awakens a desire in you to be like it, to find the will to "sing" every day, and that longing is earnest, pouring straight from your heart – hold it, look after it like a seed which must sprout. Let it grow and become a daily prayer, even though you may not know how to fulfill it at first. It will attract so much blessing and help from the Light that you will be amazed. Every willingness for goodwill sounds the joy of the angels as in the parable of the prodigal son. You were lost, and now you are found...

There are many voices that demand our attention. This trying time is in full swing and the voices, both inner and outer, often shout over each other and are confused. If you're considering which one's worth listening to, let it be the One that drives the cycle of nature, the One that never misses a morning. The One that is eternally reliably present, everlasting, constantly whispering and listening, dwelling deep in your heart; the One that will be lead you out of darkness and bring happiness, and heavenly peace. Only He has the answers to every question. Only He brings real life that never withers.

So many people still don't understand it. They don't understand that there is no other way. Because "another way" means to be disconnected from the flow of Life. Our future is either in Him or not at all. The choice is ours.

That is the time when the morning breaks. When we decide to listen and follow Voice, which is Eternal, and tune in to His melody. When we make our spirit moving.

They say the greatest darkness is just before dawn. A bird spends it in peace, with a song in its beak. Following the bird's example, let us not wait for the first rays of the sun, but sing in the dark, attuned to Creator, and thus summon the dawn. Help is here for everyone of pure heart who asks for it. The opposite of fear is trust.

 

© Ludmila  

 

Kedy sa začína ráno?

 

V prírode sa premeny dejú postupne a plynulo. Svet je koniec koncov okrúhly, a vládnu mu kolobehy. Koniec sa pomaly prelína do začiatku, a začiatok do konca. Človek by si myslel, že sa niekedy presné hranice ani nedajú určiť, a ak sa dajú, sú jemné ako piesok a nenápadné ako snežienka; mnohokrát si ich ani nestačíme všimnúť.

Napríklad prelom noci a dňa. Kedy sa začína ráno? Keď sa slnečný kotúč začne šplhať ponad horizont a objavia sa prvé tiene? Keď začne ubúdať tma ešte predtým, než slnko vyjde? Keď sa začne zosvetľovať obloha ešte predtým, než začne ubúdať tma?

Asi ste to už uhádli; a ak ste niekedy prebdeli noc a dávali pozor, máte skúsenosť z prvej ruky a viete, aké je to magické.

Začiatok dňa sa totiž nedá vidieť, ale počuť. Začína sa prvým zatrilkovaním vtáka.

Nech ste kdekoľvek, v prírode, v meste, či na dedine, všade a vždy ho môžete počuť. Ten jeden zvestovateľ rána ide vždy sólo aspoň desať – dvadsať minút predtým, než sa začnú pridávať ostatní. Je to niečo, čo ma neprestáva fascinovať. Mám toľko otázok.

V prvom rade – ako vie, že sa začína ráno a slnko onedlho vyjde? Vždy začne spievať, keď je ešte úplná tma. Ani obloha sa ešte nezosvetľuje. Má na to „vševedúca“ veda nejaké vysvetlenie? Vták nikdy nezačína do minúty presne každé ráno; jeho načasovanie sa mení podľa toho, ako sa skracujú a predlžujú dni.

Je to vždy ten istý vták, čo začne spievať? Alebo má komunita vtákov vo vašom najbližšom okolí presný rozvrh služieb, zavesený na najväčšom strome, podľa ktorého sa celé spoločenstvo vtákov riadi? Ako to, že jeden vták ide vždy sólo dvadsať minút; prečo sa k nemu ostatné vtáky nepridajú už po minúte či dvoch?

Každé každučké ráno, za úplnej tmy, predtým než začne pribúdať svetlo, začne spievať vták. Každé ráno. Bez výnimky. Vždy sa nejaký nájde. Kolobeh prírody a večné napredovanie zhrnuté do jedného trilku. Tá jemnučká zmena v prírode – preliv z noci do dňa, ktorý si väčšina ľudí nevšimne alebo prespí.

Ak najväčšia tma býva pred úsvitom, tak najhlbšie ticho je pred prvou vtáčou piesňou. Je to práve to ticho, ten kontrast zvuku a nezvuku, čo pritiahne našu pozornosť. Uprostred letného dňa, keď je vzduch naplnený zvukmi vtáčimi aj nevtáčimi, nám všetko splynie do pozadia nášho vnímania. Ale v nočnom tichu je vtáčí spev ako perla v uhlí. Trblietavý, magický a vzácny.

Hovorí sa, že ticho odhaľuje to skryté v nás. Núti nás počúvať. Naše srdce, ego svedomie; môže podporiť a prehĺbiť to dobré a krásne v nás, môže nás spojiť so Stvoriteľom a všetkým okolo nás a byť požehnaním, no odhalí i nahotu našej duše, ak je prázdna, smutná, alebo naplnená odpadom. Preto majú ľudia tendenciu tichu sa vyhýbať a prehlušiť ho akýmkoľvek zvukom. Nechcú čeliť samým sebe.

Ak je to ticho prázdne alebo naplnené temnotou a strachom, výčitkami či beznádejou, vtáčí spev ho dokáže narušiť, dať ho do novej perspektívy. Prvý zvuk vtáčieho hlasu rozochvie vzduch, a noc akoby už nie je statická, ale rozpohybuje sa do dňa. Tma už odrazu nie je taká hustá, aj keď sa úsvit ešte neobjavil; prichádza posolstvo svetla a nového začiatku, nová nádej, nová príležitosť.

Nie je v skutočnosti temnota v nás iba spomalením, zakalením svetla? Neprejavujú sa aj depresie okrem panickej beznádeje aj nechuťou k akejkoľvek činnosti? Bezsenné noci naplnené pocitom nezmyselnosti všetkého, keď sa človeku nechce vstať a čeliť ďalšiemu dňu. Tma, ticho, nehybnosť – a do toho zatrilkuje vták. S ráznosťou, čulosťou a energiou, že sa človek až musí čudovať. Vyznieva absurdne a nemiestne, ak kontrastuje s letargickou nehybnosťou v našej duši, ale to je dobre, lebo môže pomôcť rozptýliť tmu a nehybnosť v nás, priviesť na iné myšlienky a niečo prebudiť. Odkiaľ sa v tom vtákovi berie vôľa spievať? Ako to, že mne chýba? Odkiaľ ju môžem znovu získať? Nie je to len klišé, sú to existenčné otázky, ktoré sa vo chvíli núdze zaryjú hlboko do srdca. A môžu zachrániť život.

Aké poetické, že sa noc zavŕši spevom vtáka.

Nepatrí noci, je to priekopník dňa. Nikdy nevynechá ráno. Nevezme si deň voľna. Nepremárni žiadny čas. Jeho spev zarezonuje v ľudskej duši, čo počúva. Je vyjadrením neustáleho pohybu vo stvorení, čo neustane ani na minútu.           Ak počúvate spievajúceho vtáka, v skutočnosti načúvate Stvoriteľovi, Jeho sile, ktorá všetkým prúdi, všetko poháňa.

Jediné, čo nás delí od tejto sily, je nedostatok našej túžby, našej vôle byť s ňou v spojení. Ak po prebdenej bezútešnej noci začujete spev vtáka, a prebudí to vo vás túžbu byť ako on, a nájsť každý deň vôľu „spievať“, a tá túžba je úprimná, tryskajúca priamo zo srdca, držte si ju, starajte sa o ňu ako o semienko, čo musí vzklíčiť. Nech rastie a stane sa každodennou modlitbou, aj keď ešte spočiatku možno nebudete vedieť, ako ju naplniť. Pritiahne toľko požehnania a pomoci zo Svetla, až sa budete čudovať. Každé dobré chcenie rozozvučí radosť anjelov ako v podobenstve o márnotratnom synovi. Boli ste stratení, a našli ste sa...

Je veľa hlasov, ktoré sa dožadujú našej pozornosti. Táto doba ide na plné obrátky a hlasy vnútorné i vonkajšie sa mnohokrát prekrikujú a sú zmätené. Ak už nejaký počúvať, nech je to Ten, čo poháňa kolobeh prírody, čo nevynechá žiadne ráno. Ten, ktorý je večne spoľahlivo železne prítomný, nepominuteľný, stále šepotajúci, oblažujúci a načúvajúci, kmitajúci hlboko v srdci; ktorý vyvedie z temnoty, prinesie šťastie a nadpozemský pokoj. Iba Ten má odpovede na všetky otázky. Iba On prináša pravý život, ktorý nevysychá.

Toľko ľudí to ešte nechápe. Nechápe, že niet inej cesty. „Iná cesta“ totiž znamená odpojenie sa od toku Života. Naša budúcnosť je alebo v Ňom, alebo vôbec nebude. Voľba je na nás.

To je ten moment, keď sa začína ráno. Keď sa rozhodneme počúvať a nasledovať Hlas, ktorý je Večný, a naladíme sa na Jeho melódiu. Keď rozochvejeme svojho ducha.

Hovorí sa, že najväčšia tma býva pred úsvitom. Vták ju prečká v pokoji, s piesňou pripravenou v zobáku. Tak ako on, nečakajme na prvé lúče slnka; začnime spievať ešte za tmy, naladení na Večného, a tým úsvit privoláme. Pomoc je tu pre všetkých čistého srdca, ktorí o ňu prosia. Opakom strachu je dôvera.

 

© Ludmila

 

Antique Maps 4

Old World

Carta Marina By Olaus Magnus

Arctic

Copenhagen to Oslo

Old Map of Italy by Blaeu

Planisphaerium Caeleste

China by Blaeu

unknown

Old Worl Map

Related links:
Antique Maps: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Trust

Trust
as a rose petal trusts,
falling down to the ground.


Trust
as a dog trusts,
wagging his tail or barking.


Trust
as a leopard trusts,
snoozing on a branch.


Trust
as a bird trusts,
singing in the air.


Trust
as a blade of grass trusts,
growing in the crack of concrete.


Trust
as a snowflake trusts
landing on your nose.


Trust
as a deer trusts,
drinking from a brook.


Trust
as a wolf trusts,
running through the forest.


Trust
and stay in the flow of Life,
stay in the grace of God.

© Ludmila

Four Seasons 3

 Whitwick Green by Ray Cresswell:

Spring

Summer

Autumn

Winter

Related links:
Four Seasons: part 1, part 2

Spring Haiku

Spring is here again
to unfreeze the the earth and trees,
to let the birds sing.

Wind whispers to world
Trees waving branches with him,
willing to listen.

Spring is in full bloom,
memory of beginnings
in each blade of grass.

On a flat rooftop
raindrops are learning to dance
with happy chit chat.

© Ludmila 

Spring Magic

 ...by Keith Stapleton:

Related link:
Farm life

Crowd

Voices around me
but not speaking to me,
I’m in the middle of a crowd,
but not being
with anybody.

Ambience of life
like video playing,
was it a clickbait?
And I’m part of it
for somebody else too.

A weekly catch up,
fleeting laughter,
broken sentences,
chatter of steps
knocking on pavement.

I’m pecking on sounds,
pondering their fleeting taste;
shards of words
recycled in a loop
ready to sprout again.

Crowd is not asking questions -
"to be or not to be",
"stay or go away",
"somebody or nobody",
"here or there".

Not asking questions,
not looking for answers.
Sometimes poison,
sometimes antidote
to loneliness.

Going around
the Fountain of Life
and missing it completely,
only occasionally throwing in
coins for luck.

© Ludmila  

Bookish theme: Library

Marec, mesiac knihy :-)
(authors unknown)

Another Spring

If I might see another Spring,
I’d not plant summer flowers and wait:
I’d have my crocuses at once,
My leafless pink mezereons,
My chill-veined snowdrops, choicer yet
My white or azure-violet,
Leaf-nested primrose; anything
To blow at once, not late.

If I might see another Spring,
I’d listen to the daylight birds
That build their nests and pair and sing,
Nor wait for mateless nightingale;
I’d listen to the lusty herds,
The ewes with lambs as white as snow,
I’d find out music in the hail
And all the winds that blow.

If I might see another Spring -
Oh stinging comment on my past
That all my past results in "if" -
If I might see another Spring,
I’d laugh to-day, to-day is brief;
I would not wait for anything:
I’d use to-day that cannot last
Be glad to-day and sing.

Christina Rossetti

Winter Magic

 (authors unknown)