Greek café opens its doors for strays during winter nights

Since the beginning of the year and p’raps even longer, it’s been hard to know what to write. The litany of misfortune has cascaded around our ears, propelled by the puzzling individuals who play on the global stage and who forget that being the bigger person is not about size or volume.

Across all the world’s solemn systems of thought, this is a sacred time of year. It prizes open an opportunity to soften the heart and be kind for kindfulness’ sake.

Celebrating cyclical transcendence offers hope and a chance to let our life speak. Flopping back into that great supportive armchair – taking responsibility for actions in order to control the outcome – has the consequence of floating out kindness to others as well as to oneself.

Kindfulness is the prudent, fulfilled ambition to act with kindness in order to germinate kindliness in others. This intended symbiotic reflection cultivates a generosity of spirit to dissolve darkness, transforming its lack into light.

I’m not sure Messrs Chambers or Oxford English, Collins or Websters are ready to recognize this idea of kindfulness; not yet …

Mean, Meridian and Mode

© Peter Trimming Wolfe of Quebec gazing over Canary Wharf

© Peter Trimming
Wolfe of Quebec gazing over at Canary Wharf

The wonders of technology – techné + logos: this is written and posted while lounging against one of those infinitely solid, reassuring cedars at the southern end of Greenwich Park. If you took in coverage of the London Olympics, the Park hosted, inter alia, equestrian events.

What does this say about the world apart from how miraculous it is to have a hotly sunny, cloudless sky on a sacred holiday?

While carnage is wrought in Belgium, Syria and Iraq, while political argey-bargey causes the grudging shift of the chess pieces, while inexorable waves of migrants continue to wash up on shores they’d rather never have encountered, while there lurks in every community dark and terrible secrets, while there’ll always be those who wish to hang us out to dry, while limitless iniquities unfurl on Good Friday, it seems important to remember we can and ought captain our souls.

Thus, I intend to cultivate this discerning skill to account for actions by virtue of Listening to Spring’s birdsong: it is a melody and rhythm of life.