Life is ‘full’ and we often feel the need to be ‘busy’.
Im not opposed to ‘hard work’, Ive been in ‘the work force ‘since 1974, when I was fourteen.
These photos below were taken on a recent weekend ‘retreat’, the need to retreat and be is part of being human.
Don’t fall for the ‘Christian Work Ethic’ which makes one feel guilty for taking time to be.
Be still and know I am God, is often said but rarely practiced.
MAKE TIME TO TAKE TIME
Take me back, take me way, way, way back On Hyndford Street Where you could feel the silence at half past eleven On long summer nights As the wireless played Radio Luxembourg And the voices whispered across Beechie River In the quietness as we sank into restful slumber in the silence And carried on dreaming, in God And walks up Cherry Valley from North Road Bridge, railway line On sunny summer afternoons Picking apples from the side of the tracks That spilled over from the gardens of the houses on Cyprus Avenue Watching the moth catcher working the floodlights in the evenings And meeting down by the pylons Playing round Mrs. Kelly’s lamp Going out to Holywood on the bus And walking from the end of the lines to the seaside Stopping at Fusco’s for ice cream In the days before rock ‘n’ roll Hyndford Street, Abetta Parade Orangefield, St. Donard’s Church Sunday six-bells, and in between the silence there was conversation And laughter, and music and singing, and shivers up the back of the neck And tuning in to Luxembourg late at night And jazz and blues records during the day Also Debussy on the third program Early mornings when contemplation was best Going up the Castlereagh hills And the cregagh glens in summer and coming back To Hyndford Street, feeling wondrous and lit up inside With a sense of everlasting life And reading Mr. Jelly Roll and Big Bill Broonzy And “Really The Blues” by “Mezz” Mezzrow And “Dharma Bums” by Jack Kerouac Over and over again And voices echoing late at night over Beechie River And it’s always being now, and it’s always being now It’s always now Can you feel the silence? On Hyndford Street where you could feel the silence At half past eleven on long summer nights As the wireless played Radio Luxembourg And the voices whispered across Beechie River And in the quietness we sank into restful slumber in silence And carried on dreaming in God.