Being Inspired
Finding Inspiration – Ideas for Lightening Life Some sources and moments of inspiration are evergreen, timeless, universal. They appeal to a deep, shared human experience, the spirit of which which has filled us with awe and wonder for eons. Magical Moons Spending time outdoors in deep, dark velvety nights, here in South West...
Year of Love and Light
Seasonal Joy and Reflection Having embraced and been embraced by innumerable different experiences in recent years, I know I am not alone in describing this as a year of reflection and withdrawal, a time of letting go and welcoming, of opening and accepting. A year of travelling and finding, and staying home and re-discovering –...
Come to Love
A Love that simply is…. I am deeply engaged in the process of bringing together a new volume of poems called ‘Courage to Love’, to accompany my major work and research on Love in Organisations – the Love at Work project – and this seems like a good time to give you a sneak preview. This poem is called ‘Come to...
Vines
I wrote this piece in South Western France, in the Aquitaine region near Bordeaux, in the heart of wine country, where we had a holiday home which was a wonderful converted mill, surrounded by vines and open farmland, and where the panoramic views over the countryside were spectacular.
La Belle France is always a source of great inspiration for me, and I love spending time there.
From: Secret Garden of the Soul 2006
Vines
Row upon row
Of vines.
Perfectly planted
Meticulously tended
Vines.
Which
At first glance
Appear
As if marching
In unison
Across the landscape.
A procession
Of unerring precision
Determined
To carry their crop,
Opaque green jewels,
To ripe readiness
For their succulent,
Plump
Purple picking:
Then
Total transformation
Into rich
Ruby red wine
For
Our lips,
Dipping
And
Sipping.
The Goddess Tree
The Goddess Tree
A poem taken from ‘Secret Garden of the Soul’ and inspired by a beautiful silver birch tree in a friend’s garden in Dorset, where I sometimes go to write.
The tree looks remarkably like a woman standing with her arms outstretched, blessing and protecting and giving beauty, nourishment and joy to the garden and those in it. The sort of place you can sit and reflect and receive great inspiration and nurturing.
This is one of those very ‘blessed’ pieces of writing that just poured forth, asking to be created as a visual poem, and it is published here in honour of a wonderful and inspiring group of women I met and re-kindled spirit with on Saturday October 8th, at Romio Shrestha’s workshop on art for peace and transformation in London.
Please add your comments below about the workshop, the poetry or whatever moves you.
You can see more and a video about the Taras at christinemiller.co.
Amber – Kindling the Spirit of Autumn
‘Amber‘ is a poem written to capture the mellow sensual feel of autumn which I love, as the days grow shorter and the air becomes crisper, the leaves start to burnish and there is that distinct shift from summer’s lush green to orange and gold, deep red, amber and bronze.
I am often inspired by a sense of new spirit, new beginnings in autumn, just as much as in spring. Reminiscences of new school years, with all that brings, starting university, possibilities of newness, learning and loving the freedom of different places and people.
There is the anticipation of autumnal treats, bonfires, spectacular colours, the scents of wood smoke and and sounds of leaves crunching underfoot – and then the excitement as Christmas approaches and winter begins to take hold, branches bare against the sky, nights by the fire, mulled wine and glowing embers.
From: ‘Secret Garden of the Soul’ Christine Miller
Amber
Robert Burns Night
Burns Night
Before I dash off to dish up the cockaleekie soup, and the haggis ceremony gets underway, neeps and tatties at the ready…Let me share one of those serendipitous moments of delight.
I was strolling through the Memorial Gardens by London’s Victoria Embankment today, en route for a meeting at The Savoy (deliciously restored, more for another post…) and encountered a couple of photographers arranging Scotch, potatoes and tartan around the plinth of a statue. I had not realised before (or noticed!) that there is a very handsome monument to Robert Burns in prime position overlooking the River Thames.
To celebrate Burns night tonight January 25th, here’s the photo I took:
and a close up of the Plinth:
which is not very clear so here are the words which were originally written in a letter to ‘The Noblemen & Gentlemen of the Caledonian Hunt’:
“The Poetic Genius of my country found me at the plough and threw her inspiring mantle over me. She bade me sing the loves, the joys, the rural scenes and rural pleasures of my native soil, in my native tongue. I tuned my wild, artless notes as she inspired.”
And here’s a poem/song called ‘Westlin’ Winds’….
LYRICS:
Now westlin’ winds and slaught’ring guns
Bring autumn’s pleasant weather
The gorcock springs on whirring wings
Amang the blooming heather
Now waving grain, wide o’er the plain
Delights the weary farmer
The moon shines bright, as I rove by night
To muse upon my charmer
The paitrick lo’es the fruitfu’ fells
The plover lo’es the mountains
The woodcock haunts the lonely dells
The soaring hern the fountains
Through lofty groves the cushat roves
The path o’ man to shun it
The hazel bush o’erhangs the thrush
The spreading thorn the linnet
Thus every kind their pleasure find
The savage and the tender
Some social join, and leagues combine
Some solitary wander
Avaunt, away, the cruel sway
Tyrannic man’s dominion!
The sportsman’s joy, the murdering cry
The fluttering gory pinion!
But, Peggy dear, the evening’s clear
Thick flies the skimming swallow
The sky is blue, the fields in view
All fading green and yellow
Come let us stray our gladsome way
And view the joys of nature
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn
And ilka happy creature
We’ll gently walk, and sweetly talk
While the silent moon shines clearly
I’ll clasp thy waist, and, fondly prest
Swear how I love thee dearly
Not vernal show’rs to budding flow’rs
Not autumn to the farmer
So dear can be as thou to me
My fair my lovely charmer.
Robert Burns
If you want to have a Burns Supper and dance a few reels you can find out more here: Burns Night
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