After so much of the same…this day at long last is not the perpetual Groundhog Day with and without shadows. Today the sky streams white as the snow-white freckles dance from to sky to find our ground and heights about. Today is a good day.
As Clarence entered Wantmore scampered towards a familiar den. The time was upon the season, a chance to grow fatter amongst the bits of dark Christmas cakes and assorted treats that fell to the floor. Wantmore’s time would be soon, perhaps a drop or two of sweet drink beside the bits of cake?
At Christmas each year, the non-mice family returned to the low gables of the attic in search of tree and ornaments. It was a noisy time. Wantmore watched and waited…soon there would be green, red and blue glowing crystal lights – crumbs of cakes and cheeses, sugary things and goodness to chew.
In the Irish Peace Park a traditional Irish tower stands. It marks the place where soldiers of the 36th Ulster and 16th Irish Divisions served together.
And they journeyed….In the wilderness….towards the sunrising. Beneath the sky, the moon – the sun – this ground, this coast, valley, or ridge. Along the long, long trail that is our path through Gully Ravine – or our crest at Lone Pine. I return this day to wanderings across places of conflict.
Today there is light…an unlikely connection of a July rainbow (that she will understand) and a marsh (because in its unobviousness it is obvious to her)…its not our usual history here…but Rosemary will recognize…light is more fun than the shade…the sweet sound that calls.
Dearest Mother Peace…I passed your way this morning to climb an old friend…Mt. Tolmie…to see this city…
– images of memory that we carry for our cycle on this earth. Perhaps it is as witnesses to the elder who touches drum to earth before the rhythm of the heart begins to beat or to the Sensei whose belt touches cheek and temple before the belt is tied?
I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness because it shows me the stars.
Augustine Mandino II (Author and WWII USAAF B-24 Bombardier)
Macnaughton and Palmer remind me that they are but two of hundreds of thousands…..from then to date…..of pilgrims who visited. Sadly it reminds me that for many of the souls buried here or commemorated on the memorials, no one has come. Yet these fallen should know that when visitors open these gates and enter we cannot help but follow their names…their lives… row by row, or look skyward upon panels of names.