Have you ever trod the lonely trail

This poem resonates with me today, we get filled with peace, and wonder when we stop and listen. I have a satellite tracker with a message I send my wife when I wander off trail and stop to take a nap by a long lost pond, or a scenic cliff that is away from the sounds of the trail. I find it fulfilling to watch as more and more things are revealed that were not noticed just because of movement, just because we don’t stop and wait. Wait, slow and stop, and listen. There are leaves that move in the slight breeze, there are ants that move underneath the trees, there are ripples in the water from feeding fish. Stop, Wait, listen. There is more than we first notice, but only if you stop, wait, and listen.

Have you ever trod the lonely trail,

So many miles from home, 

Have you ever walked among the hills, 

In a land that was unknown, 

Have you ever sat beside a fire at night, 

That only God can see, 

If not you haven’t lived my friend, 

You can take these words from me,

Have you ever watched the northern lights,

When on the trail alone, 

Or watched a lonely eagle sore,

when a thousand miles from home, 

Have you ever heard a timber wolf,

howling out his woes

Or harked to a lonely loon

when he calls out from his home, 

If you’ve never stopped

to hear stopped to hear these sounds 

That means so much to me, 

Then You haven’t really lived my friend, 

And have so much more to see,

(author unknown)

The Chase

So... last night's story changed DYNAMICALLY because of the Audience, which is the fun of telling stories to people, they can change Dynamically.

I was going to wear my fishing hat as usual, in-part because of a signature for an outdoors canoeing story, and in-part because of insecurity because the story has me as a "hippie type with long hair" which might be hard to picture... because of my being (bald and old ).

But there was a previous great story about hiking and being old, and the audience where laughing and engaged, and it was too too hot on stage, so I left the hat, it just suddenly grabbed me that ... I needed to address this insecurity, speak directly to it... so called it out in the story "I was young with long hippy hair, which is hard to imagine now" and it broke the ice nicely. I know that it also breaks the 4th wall between me and the audience which you should never do, but it was fun, and worked great!!!

Here this and other great tales, the 10/29 TTL show was Awesome!

Camp Dudley Dreamer

Amazing Quote: "stories are a creation of Order out of Kayos, it is the creation of meaning and structure out of a reality that is otherwise meaninglessness and without structure . Another way to put this is that Real life does not happen in stories. It is true that our lives have beginnings middles and ends, but unlike a story where the writer chooses which events are important and arranges them in a meaningful way. Real life happens in a seamless irresistible flow, that does not break itself into discrete well rounded scenes. (Storytelling Tips by Professor James Hynes )

My latest story (Telling 3/26/29 TTL) will reflect a reordered version of my real-life 12 year old events. If it was told sequentially then you'd not get the feeling that I was experiencing. It occurs to me that I/we don't really think introspectively at one moment to the next, for example look at a current moment, it is predicated by the past experience and especially by a premonition of a future event. How can one tell this in a story? It is very difficult. And in this next story I have struggled, I have to become again 12, and be both non-reflective child, and a dreamer, unaware and also carried by the flow of time.  This story still is one of my favorite memories, it was a turning point in my life, and reliving it, attempting to bring you there, and re-telling it has been a truly amazing journey.

Perspective and Perception

Wonderful late day hike up Pate Mtn Maine!! But it reminded me that the Story IS NOT the actual Event, a story is crafted, in a sense it is not the actual event, there is no unintentional word, but ... you will only get out of it what you expect. If you do not see the entirety of the story, if you have expectations .. then these will change the perception of the story. ( like is this the sun rising or the sun setting?)

This is exactly what it is like to have a --conversion of your experience-- when you hear a story of a persons life and you "click" into the moment that they lived, you see the transformation, the change only once you realign to the totality of the scope of the story.

Reflections from "Romance and Adventure"

My life also is reflected in this story “Romance and Adventure”. Because of a change in my life this September, there is no clear tunnel to daylight, some light went out, and there is also in my life a wall riddled with unknowns, crawl ways or paths, which is the right one, how to avoid the one that “loops back/goes nowhere” in frustration and fear? It is amazing how a personal true tale is both a personal experience and also a reflection of a personal lesson. 

Messages from Picnic Rattle

My Takeaways from this story:

• In the Picnic Rattle there is an underlying message that When you want to find someone special to you, you want to know how they feel, you want to be with them, you want to watch and listen to them, covet and plan special time with them, that is the only way to know them.

• Also revealed is that I had not thought things through like I thought, I could have ruined everything. My headstrong way may have revealed a side of me that I was afraid to show.

• Another takeaway from this latest story is that I have self doubts, insecurities like many do, so I hope there is a connection to many others in this one.

• But most of all, Cherish, I hope that the message is that you Cherish the special one you find, because that "one of a kind", is hard to find.

I’m always amazed at the story telling process, there is the initial and fun event, then there is going back and remembering what you were thinking, and why you were reacting as you did. Its a growing experience, fun, exciting, and yet deep and comforting. Thanks to you all for putting up with me for all these years.

A Ghost in My Memory

Telling and reliving stories is a good experience, though all that we can share in 5 minutes is just a thin veneer of surface honed to fit and reflect on all the paths and thoughts that went on in my mind at the time. This Story "A Ghost in My Shelter" brought up all sorts of stuff, It was a story that was enlightening it was the time of the Vietnam War and the Kent State killings the Nightly News with the body count the yellow house down the street with the only son 2 years older than me that I played pirates with who  never came home from the war, who's house I rode my bike by and could hear crying, see the curtains drawn, and just freeze up inside.  All I could do was wait, wait on my draft number, wait in line at the draft office, wait as kids I knew fled to Canada. And me, I said I was numb I said I didn't feel anything but that wasn't the truth and on that one lonely shelter, one little lonely little kid connected with me. He was scared, and that made me realize through his fear that I wasn't absent, numb, I was really just afraid, afraid of the world afraid of the chaos.

Through this one small experience I grew stronger, there was a future for him,

and so I also had to walk on to find my strength as well. 

    All that had to be distilled into 5 minutes, and not be sad and death, and destruction because in the end the real story is that we do go on, we do connect with each other, we do grow and have adventures and become explorers helping each other in life. This is the message I get out of life after I get past the initial pain of the moments that I was living though. So in this story please enjoy it, please

When listening to this dynamically shaped Story, dynamically shaped by my true life experience and the audience, a live true tale which is a combination of life experience and the people that are present and interact with the teller via ooo's auu's and laughter, watch for:

• what "catches" you in the first 30 seconds.

• what is the conflict, and when is the climax.

• how does the resolution tie with the beginning?

I practice and have a few tricks that help me craft this as an art for enjoyment, and for a true transition. I know you'll enjoy, I love telling, hope to do many many more.

A Life Story is a Multifaceted Droplet

Our life's story is NOT like a book, it is not sequential, flat, page after page. Our life's story also is not like a play, "all life is on a stage" is great because it captures the characters around us that affect us and mold is. But life is really like a God chipped diamond, or a rain drop, from one angle the story has the colors of deep greens the greens of greed and hurt, the same story droplet viewed slightly to the side and you will see deeply into the hurt left by rejection of a son by his father etching a need for acceptance,  view it again from the left and the light will shine right though it, ...  blue with healing when the same son, the same story  is used to help a brother in the throws of the same struggles anguish and pain. Our lives are full of stories, and each story is a unique droplet, what we learn and see in our rain droplets can be multifaceted,  unique,  and all are our true tales!!  I learned a lot from my "mist on the trail", at one point it was adventure of a young scout, then I awoke in the night with anger and isolation feelings, then awaking in the morning sun, I was again seeing the glory of amazing transforming love. Which story is the true tale, when the sun shines through a droplet and shines a rainbow that changes as it sets, does the droplet change? no, not the droplet, the droplet is the same multifaceted story of discovery, of love, of anger, of rejection, of pain, of forgiveness. Our life's stories are so so complex and so wonderful. each story scares and enlighten me, and I hope that they do the same to you too. 

How Old is Old?

We were singing 60s songs in the car on the way to vaca things like beatles ... "will you still love me when I'm 64" and Simon and Garfunkel "old friends sitting on a park bench at 70" and I remembered singing those with feeling at 20years old and how sad it would be when suddenly I yelled!! Screammed!! COLLEN said what? What's wrong? I turned off the music and said " the words are all wrong!! It's not old when your 64 or 70!! It should be 95!!! 95 or 100!! Oh my gosh I mean I'm 64 now and I'm white water paddler and wilderness backpacker!!! Today I came across a cave while hiking off trail, so cool! NOT OLD NOT OLD NOT OLD!!! Ok, I calmed down and did a thumbs down on that track, love technology. 

Dinner Table Stories

I sat and watched the tables around me, it was a fancy restuarant and it was full of happy groups of obvious friends escaping the coming storm, its black rolling clouds ominous through the windows, but no one was looking, all were laughing. One womans story was erupting with hands in the air as the (may be birds?) Flue away, another table was gesturing what I guess was running, or a train engine chugging? All at the peopl were leaning in for quite parts an then erupting with excited smiles and wide eyed for the action... Stories do captivate, even a dinner table story, anecdote, scene from life is full of facial and hand expressions!!! I know I'm excited, I know that I'm missing some fun tidbit.... oops im also wondering... what was my wife saying to me just now... oops she just dropped a clue, something about "and on our aniversary" !! 

Thoughts On An Old Path

I held in my hand a small section cut from an old map, a thin black line interested me, not just because of the name, but because it was labeled as "Path" and not trail. And this path was not on the current maps, Interesting... Here I stood because I've got a decision, I'm ahead of the others, they know that I intend to take this other path thats only on my old map, and I'm at a point in the trail where it should be, but realize that now I'll have to push off into the brush, head down this steep rocky wildness in search of what used to be there. And if I wait, they will dissuade , they will add doubt, point to fears, possibilities, and my resolve will melt away. Now is the time, So I grip it and plunge fast and crazily laughing and thinking like a deer jumping over logs and leaping from rocks swinging from vines to get beyond my own point of doubt .

Now I thought that I should write down a description of the trail but you can't really imagine her (the trail). I thought that I should stop and take a picture of the her but you can't really see her anymore..

Years ago she had been probably had been beautiful weaving through the forest, and she was still on this old old map, but today, years since anybody has ever walked this way. The ground is hard packed where feet have passed time, but you really can't see the ground through the bushes and the logs and the leaves that have fallen across her decades of loneliness, the branches that cloud your view, but look around because there is still the original beautiful wildness here, and the silence is whole. 

You can tell that this path was alive and was beautiful once.  it had Granite blocks, man moved  that kept the water from eroding her, and old rotting  logs for Bridges over the small Rivits of water. Then I found a side turn out were you could step close to the edge of a precipitous drop and see the chasm of the river below, wishing to cool yourself in the swirling pool below or wondering what trout hides in those dark shadows.

but no one, no one, has been here in a long long time.

Finally the old trail turns down  to cross the river, I strip down and cool my self.  I know that I will soon lose the trail in the wash out, in the crush of logs that have come down from the Peaks, the flash floods of previous years have stopped me, and i am saddened. Finding a moss covered rest with the stream playing around me i lay back feet up and just watch, I finally become still and let the coolness of the afternoon calm me, call me.

On the trail, i moved fast, there was no wind, it was a silent and and endless sunny day, the leaves of all sorts in their Beauty and Grandview soaking up the sun and casting shadows that I longed to be in. 

Now I am stopped.

I sit now just sit for a long period of time, and finally I noticed little things, differences. There is movement, every single leaf is moving. Some of the trees shutter, a slight slight breeze that can't be felt. And some of the leaves move up and pull back as if they don't want to give in, they want to stay hidden. They move ever-so-slightly that I wasn't noticing them moving at all when I was moving so fast.

=============

What is it about our lives that we move so fast it obscures the movement around us. We can't see the world because we're moving so fast but there it is! always moving! I lie there I found a very comfortable Rock to put my feet up on and one for my back to make it a moss covered reclining chair with just enough warmth of sun and just enough Breeze to keep me cool I waited I waited and waited to watch what really was happening around me everything was moving everything had an action and a reaction we can't see because we are in such a hurry it amazed me that I missed it all.

A cluster of nine leaves hit by one beam of sunshine among the others in shadow in the maple draw my attention make me catch my breath! and I watch them after while till I am drawn by the beam of sunshine on a rock in the water, Its water moves around it no longer without wonder, but now above the Rock the ripples were clear and magnify the small Pebbles on the bottom clearly, but below the rock the ripples cross-hatched in obscure patterns hiding whatever crayfish and fish lie in the refuge below. And I wonder, how much more there is, it's just an amazing thing, we are surrounded by so so much and there is so little time.

If I stop, breath, listen, watch, will clarity come to me in life as clarity comes to those pebbles that lie in the pool before the rock? I'd like to try, but will I? but will I?

Reflections Remind me of Great Story Telling

I'm just amazed at how many people I bumped into, just in a store, That don't realize they know how to tell a really great story!!  In Storytelling have you noticed that often a friend brings up a story because another's story suddenly reminded's/(reflects) inside them.

Clyde Pond Windham NH

And sometimes, like a reflection, the story is best told top to bottom or end to front. The first line sometimes has to reflect what will be the end of the story, the catch, the anticipation, the lead to pull you into the story enough so you to want what's going to happen next!! How will they get there!! How will they get out of it!! 

Like the Tom Tall Tales "Promise to Bee Careful" or the "Strange Warning" stories where the beginning message is not revealed/understood till the end of the story!! You the participant know that this warning is a reflection that you see at the end of the story, and throughout the story you know it is building, but until the end of the story you don't know what it truly reflects. 

I Recently enjoyed !really really enjoyed! telling a story that was "dynamically shaped by audience response" (True Tales Live)!! A great example of a fabulous audience and the art of "Live Narative Performance" which is a dynamic interaction with the Storyteller that brings out new elements magnifying the story.

So, so today my walk among the beauty of the world, this lake, reminds me that the end reflects to the beginning, (and ps: you may not have noticed, but like my stories, in this picture the sky is the reflection of the ground not the other way around... ha-ha-ha fooled you)

Word for the day: dynamically shaped by audience response!

Stories help with Pain, Fear and Death

I was struck today, more like nocked over by this quote. It is true that we are drawn into stories, that we forget ourselves and enter into another's tale. It has wonderful affects of excitement, adventure and emotion and release. So when John Lithgow started caring for his dying father, and in desperation one night at bed time started reading an old book of stories, this is what he found happened:

"My father was listening to me read him a story as if his life depended on it, and indeed it did, the story was not just diverting him, it was easing his pain, dissolving his fear, and leading him back from the brink of death. It was rejuvenating his atrophied soul. lying next to him, my mother could sense that that by some mysterious force her husband was returning to her." ("Drama" by John Lithgow)

Wow, poignant, I've been in a sad cycle these last few days, with headache's and life stage changes at work and home. It is good to remember that we can have a rejuvenation of our soul. Maybe its time to share a good story and get out..

"How much of that is true"

Note that it was said recently to me "so how much of this is true".

     Well, ... honestly all of it.

BUT NOTE that in our lives, in our heads, when we are going through an extreme situation there are multiple voices.  This day in this cave when the lights started to go out there was, 

• a voice of calm reason
• a voice of absolute panic
• a voice of abstract outer view

And probably many others. I have actually told this story from those other internal voices to people and groups.  These are what I call the "Colors" in a story. For example if you stare at a tree in the fall, it is full of colors, it is a beautiful fall tree, a beautiful vibrant red leafed tree, it is a beautiful forest floor of fallen yellows, a tree of gently falling sounds,  and on and on .... The story then is the same, but can be seen through different colors, or voices.

In this story,  as the lanterns where on fire, one voice said to my self, "OH GOD, we're miles under ground and hours away from light", and another voice said calmly "have to put on the prep list to check carbide lantern gaskets , and later calmly "have to put extra batteries on the check list" and finally abstractly looking from outside "The fool did not remember to always look behind himself".  But the best most liked voice is of course the voice full of emotion and energy, this is the voice most of us can identify with, because this is the voice that echo's our heart rate and the voice we try to control the voice everyone always talks about, "just don't panic".

And to all these internal voices I give some credit that in future caving experiences where survived. (I am still here) And survived with less of a close call, auuu not totally true, at least not close calls of the same kind.  It is said often (might be just by me but I might have heard it somewhere) "A lesson learned the hard way is a lesson learned forever". Enjoy. (I also give a lot of credit to Guardian Angles that work really hard at keeping me alive) Thanks

Truth is internal, not on the surface

Very interesting quote about storytelling I just came across by a medicine man from the Wampanoag indians of Rhode Island, it really sinks into the heart of the message that storytellers attempt to achieve:

...... Well... these are only facts. Externals. Truth is internal, not on the surface but imbedded in the spirit. Artists, storytellers, are not interested in the facts, they are only interested in the truth. The surface of life as we see it all about us is very misleading. Reality is incredibly mysterious. The real monsters lie inside us, and our fears are real enough. The only way we can hope to pursue truth is on an inward journey, don't you see, a journey that turns deliberately from appearances into mystery. (Wampanoag Morning, "Wolf Dreamer" by Manitonquat, a Medicine Story

Why True Story Telling

 What is a story, Since I was a child, I enjoyed a good story, I believed that stories helped us to ennoble ourselves, to fix what was broken in us, and to help us become the people we dreamed of being, (Dr. Robert Ford, from West-World))

Where will it lead us?: She told me that: A bit of madness is key to give us to color to see, Who knows where it will lead us? And that's why they need us, So bring on the rebels The ripples from pebbles The painters, and poets, and plays And here's to the fools who dream Crazy, as they may seem. Here's to the hearts that break Here's to the mess we make   (Mia, from La La Land)

What is story telling  “the art of live narrative performance, dynamically shaped by audience response.”  His use of the words “live performance”

I believe in Story.  Something very powerful happens when we are able to capture a moment in words and have another person share in the experience.  It heals us.  It makes us laugh.  It brings connection.  Perspective.  It makes us human. (From Jennifer Gyor "Willy Lilly Wool Stories")

When you're in the middle of a story, it isn't a story at all but rather a confusion, a dark roaring, a blindness, a wreckage of shattered glass and splintered wood, like a house in a whirlwind or else a boat crushed by the icebergs or swept over the rapids, and all aboard are powerless to stop it. It's only afterwards that it becomes anything like a story at all, when you're telling it to yourself or someone else. (Michael Polley - Storyteller)

Why art? Its not about being liked, it's about feeling something, anything. Our whole world has become so disconnected from any real emotion we barely even communicate anymore. We're just a bunch of liars, we lie to each other and we lie to ourselves. We don't say how we really feel or God forbid how we really are because we're to bloody scared. Instead we just try to be liked, its terrible.  [From Movie Posthumously (artist fakes death then gets phyisophical about art)]

Great writing can show you what it’s like to walk in another’s shoes, but can also make you feel less alone in your own, can take you down streets you’ve never been, but can also describe an emotion in a way you’ve never heard before that makes you think, Yes. That is exactly what it is like for me, too. For me, reading a good book is receiving a gift. It’s the gift I’ve always wanted to give, and I felt that if I worked hard enough and long enough, someday I would be able to do just that.  (From  Sere Prince Halverson - author)

Are you Happy? "When you think about the people that you admire most, you didn't admire them because they were happy, its always the unhappiness in their stories, the scarifies, the risks, the agony they endured, what we admire most is not the happiness its the greatness. ... At what point do you just accept your life? And maybe accepting is the path to happiness. "or maybe thats just giving up, But I honestly believe that every person on this world has the potential for something great, and maybe all that we really need is a little bit of encouragement." [From Movie Posthumously (artist fakes death then gets phyisophical about art)]

Finding Myself: "I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, This brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself (From Miranda Lambert Song/Story The house that built me)

Noun1: life story - an account of the series of events making up a person's life. biography, life history,life, 

Our life is the story that we tell. (Tom O)

Reasons for stories 

1. brings us closer to our own humanity, to each other
2. to build community
3. to begin conversations, to find insights (from "Fugitive Story Sessions - West Canton")

Why Stories, Why Art?

Why art? Its not about being liked, it's about feeling something, anything. Our whole world has become so disconnected from any real emotion we barely even communicate anymore. We're just a bunch of liars, we lie to each other and we lie to ourselves. We don't say how we really feel or God forbid how we really are because we're to bloody scared. Instead we just try to be liked, its terrible.

Are you Happy? "When you think about the people that you admire most, you didn't admire them because they were happy, its always the unhappiness in the stories, the scarifies, the risks, the agony they endured, what we admire most is not the happiness its the greatness.

At what point do you just accept your life? And maybe accepting is the path to happiness. "or maybe thats just giving up, But I honestly believe that every person on this world has the potential for something great, and maybe all that we really need is a little bit of encouragement."

(From Movie Posthumously (artist fakes death then gets phyisophical about art)

A Black Cloud And A Sunset

As his cold fingers bent creakily and tried to pull the laces of his boots, a sudden caaaarack  from behind him awakening the feeling of being watched that has been there all day.  Not just watched, but more like an icy finger of fear that races ahead of sudden horror!!!!  It was a heavy heaving big long crack of a very large branch, not just a stick. Slowly, ever so slowly he turns still looking down, knowing it is something that he doesn't want to see, something he hopes to be invisible to, but knowing it involves him and cannot be dismissed . All previous sounds had ceased, only his heart beat could be heard, and his breath, !!! no not HIS breath but.. WHOSE? !!! Massive black clawed feet appear out of the corner of his vision. Causality looking up he stares at a massive bear!! A great cazum of a mouth with jaws open, gaping, but.. is it ?casually like a yawn?.  It is the biggest bear he'd ever seen, and never had seen one from so close that you could feel his breath on your face.    Save me, O God, for the waters have almost taken my life.  I have gone down into deep mud and there is no place to put my feet. Psalm 69

It had been 40 days on the trail, actually 40 days and 40 nights to the hour and he was washing up to enjoy the sunset. Listening in wonder at the beauty all around ?us?. The babbling from the spring nearby, the birds chattering away in the trees, the evening crickets, the frigid water had called him to start the next section of the trail all freshened up. But with it's beady black eyes fixed on him, it stares, not a general stare, and not a stare at his eyes, but more a stare of curiosity at a specific point just under his chin... then he realized, it must be a curiosity of the soap bubbles continue to drip from his beard and down onto the leaves.

Isn't it funny how we humans are? Even in a moment of calm, fear, doubt, anxiety and black clouds suddenly loom up and appear, with claws that could destroy our future (or in this case we'd become a part of someone else's dreams of fulfillment).  Day dreaming we too late see the light is yellow and narrowly escape an accident

To late we walk into a meeting to find that others have questions we are not prepared for To late we see that our distractedness has hurt others we love To late we realize that our food bag is sitting open by our side!!!

  Though for some reason sometimes we can find calmness, just a feeling that a smile at disaster tickles our insides, reaching for a prayer of forgiveness and guidance, with as simple a statement as "God? Help! " And like those rare moments, this time the calmness came, and he said to the bear, "Good morning, I hope you are enjoying this warm spring evening as much as I am, it may be we are both kindred spirits (I hope so),. And I'm just going to finish my wash up and be out of your way."

At this point he could see out of the corner of his eye, the bear's head tilted some to one side, questioningly, and he rolled back his considerable tonnage onto his back hips as if to watch this stranger.

The hiker continued to slowly pack up his gear, and taking out a towel and drying his hair continued to talk calmly, "you know that this is a very metaphysical encounter, you a big part of what is beautiful, and me a dreamer that is searching for that beauty." Wrapping a towel around his head he paused, looked at the sunset from our mountain top ledge, sharing for another few minutes with the bear in silence. Then bowing and with a wave thanked him for the company, slowly backing away.

Life is a wonder, what it is filled with, where it will lead you, why beauty and fear and forgiveness and serenity can all be so intermingled. Fear nothing—not wild wolves in the night, not flying arrows in the day,

Not disease that prowls through the darkness, not disaster that erupts at high noon.  Psalm 91

Thanks For Gods Miracles

In the years of the colonies a traveling preacher was crossing the mountains when suddenly rearing up in front of him was a gigantic clawed bear with gaping toothy drooling jaws. Falling instantly to his knees and closing his eyes he prayed “Dear God, Oh Dear God give this bear a Christian heart!!”

Silence fell, and a warm light surrounded him. Peeking out through closed lids he sees the bear also on his knees with this great paws folded together.

“Oh Lord of miracles in today’s world, thank you.”

At this the Bear cleared his throat and spoke “Oh Lord, Thank you for this meal in which I am about to partake.”

I remember lying on the trail

On A sunny thick grassy knoll, a temporary flat spot on a steeply downward sloping trail, and then gazing across a valley of deep green trees, with the sounds of a distant waterfall playing a mellody below me hidden beneath the tree topped carpet that I suddenly felt a part of.

There are times when we feel a part of the "garden that is full of life", when the needs of the world are pushed off and outside so that the “real world” is forgotten. Forgotten is the insistence of moving, of going, of needing to do and be some were. And instead you are enveloped in a stillness, not a silence, but a stillness that surrounds and widens your perspective till it seems you see a wider perspective around you and hear more intricate sounds that have always existed, but were not before perceivable.

In that short time, in that pause, you know there is wholeness and a presence that also has always been there longing to give you joy and company. You feel him hold you, envelope and warm you. I so much do want to pause today and “just lie here, and forget the world” so that I can see "the garden bursting into life".

“If I lay here, If I just lay here Would you lie with me, And just forget the world? Forget what we’re told, Before we get too old. Show me a garden, That’s bursting into Life. “(Snow patrol)

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,  even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. (A Psalm of David 139)