It is a Winter's Tale...

Well here I sit on a Winter's night and am minded of the meaning of Shakespeare's title, which means (literally) 'something you don't really have to believe'.  A tall story told to pass the long hours of a Winter's evening.  Winter conveys a barrenness.

Is this what tugs at the human soul?  That we are somehow barren and have not achieved?  For precious few of us are happy with being.  Yet we call ourselves Human Beings. Really we are only happy when we are doing, and too often we judge others by what they do, not what they are.  So maybe we should be Human Doings?



Will caught in a moment of Being

I am very grateful to the lovely Sylvia Eagle for introducing me to this idea.

So when we're all doing (and I'm as trapped as the next person) let's not forget that our evolution as a species actually depends on being...  my fellow Human Beings...

So a favourite poem of mine is of W.B. Yeats, which I have known for thirty five years, and first saw the island in 2006!  So from memory (excusing any mistakes...)

Lake Isle of Innisfree

I will arise and go now
And go to Innisfree
And a small cabin build there
Of clay and wattles made
Nine bean rows shall I have there
And a hive for the honey-bee
And live alone in the bee-loud glade

And I shall have some peace there
For peace comes dropping slow
Dropping from the veils of morning
To where the cricket sings
There Midnight's all a glimmer
And Noon a purple glow
And the Evening full of linnets' wings

I will arise and go now
For always night and day
I hear lake waters lapping
With low sounds, by the shore
Whilst I stand on the roadway
Or on the pavements grey
I hear it in my deep heart's core



Innisfree through the trees from Yeats' famous Hazelwood

And me at the moment I get my first sight of Innisfree and all my family think I'm barmy!