Wrinkles! What Wrinkles?

This morning I considered whether to run in the open air, to brace the cold and the wind, or to take the alternative and head to the gym in the warmth of the car. At they gym I could run in shorts and running vest in the warmth of the place. Outside I would have to wear thicker heavier running gear.

As I ran I found my heart uplifted almost mile by mile. First I watched the soaring buzzard as it scanned the fields below looking for its breakfast. Then I startled two deer, they stopped to watch me as I ran off in the other direction, no danger to them. Of more danger was the fox that ran alongside me sheltered by the bushes . 

Then sitting on the fencepost I saw the little Red Kite , it seemed maybe he had already had success in the hunting stakes. He looked at peace with the world, and did not flinch a muscle as I ran past. 

Next I watched the fresh pieces of wood drop from the tree and had to stop for a moment to look up and watch the Lesser Speckled Woodpecker at work high in the boughs.

Six and a half miles and I was home, warm from my exertion and ready to face my day.

The alternative, had I chosen to go to the gym would have been to run the same miles , but all I would see was my own face in the mirror in front of me as I pounded out the miles going nowhere. 

The mirror is never a pretty sight at the best of times.  The older we get the more we become conscious of age catching up.  

While out running, I am that 18 year old who loved playing music and dancing. I am the 25 year old minister who was told one day by his dear old organist that he was the boy who would never grow old. I am the  older man who stood at the top of the mountain and rejoiced in managing to run the whole way there without stopping. 

In the mirror I see the wrinkles of age, the pattern I have woven over the years with the life I have lived. 

Now had I ran on the treadmill I might now have been thinking about going for a haircut. Having run outside I am still that young man and I am going off to paint. 

I am what life has made me. I am not at all ashamed of the pattern I have woven. I have not allowed the blind tattooist to set his agenda. I have not let accident shape me or mould me . The wrinkles I see tell there story. 

The artist paints. We either paint a thing of beauty or we start again. The pattern of our life we are equally in control of, we do not paint without thought, we should not go through life thoughtlessly , letting accident dictate. No matter our age we are still in control. Whether we produce a an ugly thing or are a joy to be with is our sole responsibility. 

Wrinkles!!!! What wrinkles I no wrinkles. Do you??????

This is the very initial stages of what I hope will be a Pen and Ink of  Mont St Michele  in France. This is a place I love.  This is a complex subject and I may yet have to abandon but I give you this the first stage. 

Today I hope to go over the pencil marks and begin to add some shading. I am already aware that I have a few errors to sort, but having started in pencil I can do that. 

I hope my friends who read this have a lovely day. This is the day I spend time with my friends in the afternoon. We call ourselves, “The Last of the Summer Wine.” Those who live in the UK will know exactly what that means. 

A Tale for Kay

It seems that yesterdays post struck one or two chords. There were so many comments that moved me to think deeply. Having read the story that Kay related I feel that today I have to share a similar tale. I cannot tell you the name of the person so I will just say that he was a very close relative.


He was married and had a family, and yet he was abusing alcohol to such an extent he was spending everything he had in its pursuit. Every thought he had was related to this pursuit. If you asked him what time it was he would tell you it was so many minutes from closing time, or how much money he had, he would answer by saying how many drinks he could afford.

On the 23rd of December one year, I got a phone call from his wife telling me he had taken all her jewellery. She wanted me to go and find him and bring him home. I had done this in the past. After much thought, I decided this time I was going to the police. I told them what had happened and was able to direct them to the pawn shop where he would have sold the jewellery, and also where he would be spending the money.

He was arrested and charged with theft and held in custody. That night I was on a date with the girl who was to later become my wife. We went to the cinema, I cannot remember a thing about it, and all I could think about was that this person was to spend Christmas in prison till the courts opened on Boxing Day.

For years after that this person never ever spoke to me, but it was a life changing event in his life. He has never drunk alcohol again and is very involved in AA. Once when I was a guest speaker at an AGM of the organisation I heard him stand up and say to the assembled people that I was the person who had turned his life around. Do we speak today? Not very often. There was a time I questioned and questioned this but no more.

There is a story of the Zen master who was attending a social event. There was a psychiatrist also present, who decided to ask him a question that had been on his mind.

"Exactly how do you help people?" he inquired.

"I get them to where they can't ask any more questions," the Master answered.

There are times in life we have to just accept that we acted in what we believed to be the best we could and not question ourselves to death thereafter.

This is the way of the Tao.

This blog is linked to my other where I discuss the artwork used here:- Rain Along the Coastal Path

The answer is in our own hands.

A young student on day caught a beautiful bird and held it is his hands. As he looked at the bird an idea came into his mind how he might catch his teacher with a question he could never answer correctly. He went to his master teacher and held the bird behind his back. He told his teacher that he held the bird in his hands and asked him, “Sir is the bird alive or is the bird dead?” He thought, if the teacher says it is dead he will simply open his hands at it will fly away and the master will be proven wrong. On the other hand if the master said that the bird was alive he would simply wring its neck and produce the dead bird.


The teacher on being asked the question stood still and thought for a moment. “The answer is in your own hands,” he said.

The stickleback was swimming in the river this way and that, with the current and against it. As he swam the water rat saw him and thought here was an opportunity to cause some disturbance. He swam over and said to the stickleback, “If you do not find water quickly you will surely die.” The stickleback in panic swam up and down searching for help for he did not wish to die. He came across the water vole and asked him where he might find water. “Why do you ask that?” said the vole. The stickleback told the vole what had been said to him by the water rat. The vole saw the joke and decided to continue it. “I have not got a clue,” he said. “But find it you must.”

The poor stickleback panicked and rushed here and there. He then saw the wise owl sitting watching him from the bank. He swam over and asked the owl if he knew where he could find water. The owl looked at him and smiled. “What do you find funny?” asked the stickleback. The owl said, “You are in the water. It is the water you live and move in, it is the water that gives you existence; it is all around you moment by moment.

So often we spend so much time seeking answers, seeking inspiration wondering where and what. So often the answer lies in our own hands. That which we seek is there within us all the time.



This blog is linked to my other which can be see at:- Splintered Dreams