climbing hiking camping

These are the final lines of a poem written in 1938 by Robert D Abrahams. He is reflecting on wars around the world whilst he and his wife, safe at home,  drive to a game of bridge: Tonight Shanghai is burning, And we are dying too. What bomb more surely mortal Than death inside of you? For some men die by shrapnel, And some go down in flames, But most men perish inch by inch, In play at little games. The words are a challenge to every one of us. Will we allow ourselves to die inch by inch? Or will we determine to live for a cause? Will we allow others to play little games with our lives? Or will we ignore the fear of shrapnel and fight? May every one of us reading these words determine to live; and to live for something great, something lasting, something meaningful.

Feeling reflective and fallible today. This is a repost that says it well. I live Between the Times. Between my birth and my death. Between my salvation and a final day. Between the morning and the evening. I live Between Each Breath. Between the gulp of air inhaled before the start of a new journey. And the sigh of fatigue at the end of a long day. I live Between the Arms. The loving mother at the day of my birth. The caring child as I slip into eternity. I live Between the Times. And every precious second given to me. Tells a story. Of Life. Love. Pain. Passion. And finally. Of Glory. ©Ralph Turner 2014

When I was a babe and wept and slept, Time crept; When I was a boy and laughed and talked, Time walked. Then when the years saw me a man, Time ran. But as I older grew, Time flew. Soon, as I journey on, I'll find time gone. May Christ have saved my soul, by then, Amen. 'Times Paces' by Henry Twells, adapted by Guy Pentreath

As we commemorate Remembrance Day this Sunday, it's 100 years since the outbreak of world war one. It's reflected with an amazing display at the Tower of London. This is a repost of my visit to a particular battle ground in North East India. The poem is haunting in its simplicity. Over the last three weeks, I have had the immense privilege of working with some of the most wonderful people in the world. I'm sure there will be more stories to follow, but this seems appropriate with Remembrance Day around the corner.   During my time in Nagaland, an extreme North-East State in India, I was able to drive to Kohima. Here there is one of the best kept war cemeteries I have seen, a memorial to all those who gave their lives in what was the turning point in the Indian war against the Japanese in 1944. Amongst the thousands of graves, each one recording a British or Indian soldier, usually in their early twenties, there is a poem, called the Kohima Epitaph, and copied by many other ...

I live Between the Times. Between my birth and my death. Between my salvation and a final day. Between the morning and the evening. I live Between Each Breath. Between the gulp of air inhaled before the start of a new journey. And the sigh of fatigue at the end of a long day. I live Between the Arms. The loving mother at the day of my birth. The caring child as I slip into eternity. I live Between the Times. And every precious second given to me. Tells a story. Of Life. Love. Pain. Passion. And finally. Of Glory. ©Ralph Turner 2014

Tony Benn (1925-2014) died this week. An amazing man. Someone who stuck by his beliefs throughout his life. Even if you disagreed with him, you had to admire his courage, persistence and lack of compromise. I n 2002 he came to Peterborough for his ‘An Audience With’ tour. A packed theatre sat for two hours with him chatting and answering questions, accompanied only by his beloved flask of tea. (Earlier tours also included his pipe, but health and safety regulations put paid to that!) It was one of my political highlights. I was glad to be there. As Benn put it, the tour ‘ reignites the public meeting, uninterrupted by Jeremy Paxman or John Humphrys’! His autobiography is called ‘Dare to be a Daniel’. It’s a reference to a Salvation Army hymn of the same name, sung to him by his father. His parents appeared to have had a stronger Christian faith than he, but in amongst the ‘honest doubts’ of his first chapter in the book, there is a clear belief too.   Not a traditional Christian on...

God made. Adam bit. Noah arked. Abraham split. Joseph ruled. Jacob fooled. Bush talked. Moses balked. Pharaoh plagued, people walked. Sea divided, tablets guided. Promise landed. Saul freaked, David peaked. Prophets warned. Jesus born. God walked. Love talked. Anger crucified. Hope died. Love rose. Spirit flamed. Word spread. God remained.

Dear day, It was tough yesterday. Tough to live. Hard to breathe. But you’re a new day. You’re ahead of me. And I’m going to live you. I’m going to squeeze the life out of you today, dear day. I’m going to care. And I’m going to laugh. Give. Smile. Stand up when I fall down. Walk.... Run. Breathe the air. I’m going to appreciate the simple today. And lose myself in something pleasurable. I’m going to listen. To God. And to my friends. Did I say I’d stand up if I fall down? Oh yes. Not only that. I’ll laugh. Laugh at the trivialness of what used to upset me. Today, dear day, I’m going to live you. Poem based on the 16 Habits of Exuberant Human Beings by Kate Bratskier

Sometimes things don't go as we expect. But it's how we deal with those moments that make us or break us. We can choose to complain forevermore about what 'should' have happened. Or we can embrace the change. This is a short piece of prose from Emily Kingsley, a writer who's expectations changed one day. I'll let her tell you in her own words..... WELCOME TO HOLLAND by Emily Perl Kingsley. c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley.   I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this...... When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting. After months of eager anticipation...

Thank you Miss Kerr. Miss Kerr was my English teacher at secondary school. And she introduced me to pop music. Ours was a 'classical' home and 'Top of the Pops' was frowned upon. So it was only as I reached senior school that I began to pay attention to the charts. My very first contact was my English lesson where we were given the lyrics and listened to 'Dangling Conversation' by Simon & Garfunkel. Not exactly leading edge rock, but a wonderful song and great lyrics. The album it came from, 'Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme' is unbelievably 47 years old now. But good lyrics last the years. May we never become lost in 'dangling conversations', but make every day of our lives count. It's a still life water colour, Of a now late afternoon, As the sun shines through the curtained lace And shadows wash the room. And we sit and drink our coffee Couched in our indifference, Like shells upon the shore You can hear the ocean roar In the dangli...

A fond farewell today to Mon, a former colleague at Emap. This is a short poem read at the service by her granddaughter Sarah-Jayne. Beautiful. And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so? I did. And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth. Late Fragment by Raymond Carver

Fear less, hope more; Eat less, chew more; Whine less, breathe more; Talk less, say more; Hate less, love more; And all good things are yours. Swedish Proverb

There was a very cautious man Who never laughed or played He never risked, he never tried, He never sang or prayed. And when he one day passed away, His insurance was denied, For since he never really lived, They claimed he never really died. Anonymous poem  from Developing the Leader Within You by John C. Maxwell.

Over the last three weeks, I have had the immense privilege of working with some of the most wonderful people in the world. I'm sure there will be more stories to follow, but this seems appropriate with Remembrance Day around the corner.   During my time in Nagaland, an extreme North-East State in India, I was able to drive to Kohima. Here there is one of the best kept war cemeteries I have seen, a memorial to all those who gave their lives in what was the turning point in the Indian war against the Japanese in 1944. Amongst the thousands of graves, each one recording a British or Indian soldier, usually in their early twenties, there is a poem, called the Kohima Epitaph, and copied by many other war memorials. This is what it says: When You Go Home, Tell Them Of Us And Say, For your Tomorrow, We Gave Our Today. Simple and poignant. Still as true today. Let's not forget.