August Redux 2013 – a beginning

time-may-not-be-alltime-may-not-be-all

 

“What we call the beginning is often the end.

 And to make an end is to make a beginning.

 The end is where we start from.”

T.S. Eliot.

 

photo poem by clinock

Solstice

red berries in snow

“Midwinter spring is its own season
Sempiternal though sodden towards sundown,
Suspended in time, between pole and tropic.
When the short day is brightest, with frost and fire,
The brief sun flames the ice, on pond and ditches,
In windless cold that is the heart’s heat,
Reflecting in a watery mirror
A glare that is blindness in the early afternoon.
And glow more intense than blaze of branch, or brazier,
Stirs the dumb spirit: no wind, but pentecostal fire
In the dark time of the year. Between melting and freezing
The soul’s sap quivers. There is no earth smell
Or smell of living thing. This is the spring time
But not in time’s covenant. Now the hedgerow
Is blanched for an hour with transitory blossom
Of snow, a bloom more sudden
Than that of summer, neither budding nor fading,
Not in the scheme of generation.
Where is the summer, the unimaginable
Zero summer?”…….

poem: extract from Little Gidding by T. S. Eliot

Photo by clinock

Today the first real snow fell in Vancouver… all is white and silent and everyday forms lose definition…no doubt tomorrow it will all be slush and rain again, that’s how it goes here on the north west coast. Tomorrow the sun will begin its slow return and I welcome the reality and symbolism of the Solstice. I am a child of the sun and despite growing up in the dank ambiance of England I am at heart a southern soul. I need light and heat and the life and colour it brings.

“May the long time sun shine upon you…all love surround you…”

another beginning

JC babe

“Dawn points, and another day

Prepares for heat and silence.

Out at sea the dawn wind

Wrinkles and slides.

I am here

Or there, or elsewhere.

In my beginning.”

T.S.Eliot – Four Quartets

This photo is the only one I have of me as a babe – I haven’t changed much, believe me. My crib is a small, clinker built boat made by an uncle.

“Midwinter Spring”…

west_coast_snow_by_clinock-d34z5krI
Midwinter spring is its own season
Sempiternal though sodden towards sundown,
Suspended in time, between pole and tropic.
When the short day is brightest, with frost and fire,
The brief sun flames the ice, on pond and ditches,
In windless cold that is the heart’s heat,
Reflecting in a watery mirror
A glare that is blindness in the early afternoon.
And glow more intense than blaze of branch, or brazier,
Stirs the dumb spirit: no wind, but pentecostal fire
In the dark time of the year. Between melting and freezing
The soul’s sap quivers. There is no earth smell
Or smell of living thing. This is the spring time
But not in time’s covenant. Now the hedgerow
Is blanched for an hour with transitory blossom
Of snow, a bloom more sudden
Than that of summer, neither budding nor fading,
Not in the scheme of generation.
Where is the summer, the unimaginable
Zero summer?…….

V
What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from…….

With the drawing of this Love and the voice of this
Calling
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always—
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.

(extracts from Little Gidding by T. S. Eliot. – Photo by clinock)