HANNA'S WALK

Sunshine Days and Foggy Nights

Bird song can not be heard, only a duck breaks the silence, while it frightened flutters across the pond. A dense fog muffles the sound and blurs the detail.

I have walked here summer and winter.

Devoutly I pry the door open to No. 40, to the courtyard with the workshops, on a freezing cold winter day, where the only sound is the flowing water from the pond.

Small bells ring softly when the water breaks brittle ice floes loose in the dark creek and the White-throated Dipper sits quietly and shiver.

Now the summer is here. Flowering hawthorn, lilacs and blackthorn are intrusive with their scent and save memories of this day for neat orderly pictures in my memory.

Fragrances, related unimpeded to our experiences. Spring flowers are insistent with their fresh delicate sweet fragrance. The scents have direct access to our minds and intensify our perception of the present.

Enjoy nature and explore the small paths or climb a hill and ‘Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees’, so beautifully expressed by John Muir

Rådvad Naturskole

I was born to catch dragons in their dens
And pick flowers
To tell tales and laugh away the morning
To drift and dream like a lazy stream
And walk barefoot across sunshine days.
I was born to find goblins in their caves
And chase moonlight
To see shadows and seek hidden rivers
To hear the rain fall on dry leaves
And chat a bit with death across foggy nights…
Sunshine Days and Foggy Nights by James Kavanaugh

 

Fuglesangen var forstummet, kun en and brød stilheden, mens den forskrækket baskede hen over dammen. En tæt tåge dæmpede lydene og slørede alle detaljer.

Jeg har vandret i Rådvad sommer og vinter.

Andægtigt har jeg lirket døren op til nr. 40, til gården med de arbejdende værksteder en iskold vinterdag, hvor den eneste lyd var vandet fra Rådvad Dam. Små klokker ringede sagte, når strømmen rev sprøde isflager løs i den mørke å, og vandstæren sad helt stille og skuttede sig.

Nu er det sommer. Blomstrende syrener, tjørn og slåen trænger sig på med deres duft og arkiverer minder om denne dag i velordnede billeder i min hukommelse.

Dufte, relaterer uhindret til vores oplevelser. Forårsblomsterne er insisterende, med deres friske fine søde duft. Duftene har direkte adgang til vores sind og intensiverer vores opfattelse af nuet.

Søg ud i naturen og få en fantastisk oplevelse.

The Trees

Den sidste uges tid er jeg flere gange stødt på disse linier udgivet af Herman Hesse’s forlægger.
Jeg holder meget af poesi, og heldigvis er der hele tiden nye spændende oplevelser blandt mine dejlige medbloggere. Tak for det.

“When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.

A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.

So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.” Hermann Hesse, Bäume. Betrachtungen und Gedichte” Goodreads

“Bäume sind für Hermann Hesse Sinnbilder, die sich mit Erinnerungen verbinden, Symbole der Vergänglichkeit und Wiedergeburt, aber auch »allen Wachstums, allen triebhaften, naturhaften Lebens, aller Sorglosigkeit und geilen Fruchtbarkeit«. Sie sind für ihn Spiegel der Jahreszeiten, der Landschaften und Umweltbedingungen ihres Standorts. In ihren Jahresringen und Verwachsungen erkennt man »allen Kampf, alles Leid, alle Krankheit, alles Glück und Gedeihen«. Und ihre Gegenwart kann ungeheuerlich tröstlich sein: »Wenn wir traurig sind und das Leben nicht mehr gut ertragen können, dann kann ein Baum zu uns sprechen: Sei still! Sei still! Sieh mich an! Leben ist nicht leicht, Leben ist nicht schwer. … Heimat ist nicht da oder dort. Heimat ist in dir drinnen, oder nirgends” http://www.suhrkamp.de

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