Hey you, please stop for just five minutes of your time is all I need,
Gently sit yourself down on that chair of brown and olive green tweed.
Slowly closing your eyes on ten for your little journey is about to begin,
See that red door open it wide and step inside to explore therein.
What can you see, hear, feel, smell and touch but where are you?
Let every sense guide on this journey to a place you many once knew.
The green of the chair has dissolved into a forest where its life began,
A place to escape a world of grey to plastic women and lying madman.
To the left is an old oak tree with branches stretched in every direction,
He is the grandfather of this world and in charge of its protection.
In a hole around the centre sits an owl of white purer than any snow,
Singing songs and telling tales far older than any human would know.
Below your feet do not kick or pick the crowd of toadstools gathered,
They are gossips and liars so always leave their questions unanswered.
Wait what is that sound like fingers down the blackboard at school?
Oh it is a grey squirrel running down the oak’s bark acting the fool!
Follow in and out the trees until you can no longer see or hear him,
As a gentle breeze catches up with you and starts tickling every limb.
Walking on into the forest a clearing stands where a two rivers meet.
Take off your socks and shoes to let their waters calm your tired feet.
The sun starts to set with a sound like a church bell tolling for mass,
Day is now almost over and before nightfall you must whistle with grass.
It brings up the red door once more to return home away from here,
Close the door as you enter and open your eyes but never forget there.
The sun shines brightly in the early morning air,
Gems of dew twinkling and ringing in her glare.
As a lonely spider spins a web with artful care,
Moving in a defined zigzag pattern over there.
Drawing with her silken thread in silent fanfare,
No pausing to wonder at what she will ensnare.
A fly passes by in the sunbeam’s warming dance,
Attracted to the silken pattern with one glance.
Hoping he flies on by far away from the tool shed,
Or will he become hypnotised by web’s the trance?
Slyly she watches ready to pounce like a warhead,
As he takes a step ever closer to his deathbed.
Beside the tool shed proudly sits an old oak tree,
Now waving in the breeze to warn the fly to flee.
Shedding three of its leaves in a sacrificial plea,
In warning to the spider not to be quite so greedy.
She does not care so bites his head off with glee,
And runs off manically laughing like a banshee.
I am at a lake, sat under a tree, wind touching my hair, and sun beating down. Across the lake is a bridge, to the West are mountains and the East a dense forest. In the sky three birds fly high and sing their song. I ponder what this one moment in time and view painted before me means, as everything happens for a reason.
My reflection in the lake is reminder of how unique my journey in life and my actions have ripple effects like a skipping stone upon the lake itself;
The tree shows me like it’s rings I have good and bad years, I have the strength to carry on, giving shelter and hope to others;
The wind is Mother Nature’s kiss to share her maternal love and knows better than any other mother what is right and wrong;
The sun gives hope that even in times of darkness there will be light again soon, even if right now appeals to be pitch black;
The bridge a reminder I have choices to make in life and sometimes it is best to burn bridges on the past when someone has hurt me;
The mountains foretell of hard times ahead but the journey to reach the summit will fill me with knowledge and experience;
Where as the forest foretells of change and that a transitional phase is to occur but no matter what must always follow my instincts;
Finally the birds are my closest friends, they are there to remind me that they support me and even if I don’t see them, I can hear them.
So which of my options do I explore first? Easy. I climb the tree as then I can have all my strength and knowledge to help me make the decision that is right for me now and not forget the bigger picture. Finally remembering that the plans and actions of today, are what bear the fruits and gifts tomorrow and a future to come.
I was given the following instructions by a friend: “Hold your hands out in front of you, palms down. Imagine that you have a total of six strings tied around your fingers. What objects are dangling from the strings?”
After much pondering, here is what are on my six strings:
A photograph of all those that are special in my life, which changes as it blows in the springtime breeze, whose touch is like the special touch they bring to my life with being in it, and have made a special place forever in both my heart and soul;
A pencil as a reminder for all that I have been fortunate to learn in life and all that I will learn throughout because it is not all about the formal study but what we learn from our experiences and being empathetic to others as understand their pain and joy;
A lemon which may sound odd but some may see lemons for their bitter taste but others may find the smell of one sweet; which is a reminder that even when there maybe something I dislike or disagree with, there is always more than one point of view in life;
A seed of the horse chestnut tree, a.k.a a “conker”, not only does it symbolise my love of nature but as a reminder of autumn (my favourite time of year), the changes that occur within and childhood innocence running among the freshly fallen leaves;
A tube of purple paint as not only does it symbolise my love and passion for creativity from art to music with the sounds and visuals both bring, it is the warmest yet also the most coolest of colours making it magical and mysterious at the same time;
A sunflower to remind me of dawn and that each day is a new opportunity to start again, put away what has upset me the day before and not dwell on it, as well as starting new tasks that may not be easy but will be ultimately worthwhile it in the end.
Every seed has its built-in tree. A gardener does not put the tree into the seed, for it is their job to nurture the seed and help the tree bloom to it’s highest potential. In the same way, a teacher should not think of a pupil as an empty bucket to fill to a set level with information. A teacher needs to observe the pupil, spotting their unique potential, helping them in a way that the dormant potential can emerge and succeed in the world. So as the teacher grows older, they look out on their gardens, every flower and tree is a reminder of every pupil they ever taught.