Dienstag, 17. Januar 2017

Wild Atlantic Way


Ein "touristischer " Blick auf die wundervolle Westküste :)
aber auch der ist lohnend!

Samstag, 31. Dezember 2016

Irisches Weihnachtslied

 
 
Wenn der Gesang der Engel verstummt ist,
Wenn der Stern am Himmel untergegangen,
Wenn die Könige und Fürsten heimgekehrt,
Die Hirten mit ihrer Herde fortgezogen sind,
Dann erst beginnt das Werk von Weihnachten:
Die Verlorenen finden,
Die Zerbrochenen heilen,
Den Hungernden zu essen geben,
Die Gefangenen freilassen,
Die Völker aufrichten,
Den Menschen Frieden bringen,
In den Herzen musizieren.
 
 - Irisches Weihnachtslied -
 
Ich wünsche Euch ein von diesen Gedanken durchwobenes, gesundes und friedvolles Jahr 2017!

Freitag, 23. Dezember 2016

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening


Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
 Robert Frost

Sonntag, 18. Dezember 2016

HIDDEN BELONGING


We live such separate and often quite removed lives. Yet behind all this seeming separation a deeper unity anchors everything. This is one of the powerful intimations of the great religious traditions. The ideal of community is not the forcing together of separate individuals into the spurious unity of community. The great traditions tell us that community somehow already exists. When we come together in compassion and generosity, this hidden belonging begins to come alive between us. 

John O'Donohue

Donnerstag, 17. November 2016

A late walk


The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.

And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words

A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.

I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you. 

Some Surprise


Lisa Hannigan & Gary Lightbody - Some Surprise 

Mittwoch, 2. November 2016