The Lemurian Hermitage
A hermit is a person who lives apart from society. Traditionally, this has meant living alone and self-sufficiently, but not always. This House of Solitude is occupied by a Hermit who came from the Lemurian Abbey to connect back to nature and enjoy the serenity and tranquility. She welcome guests. (All images on this site remain the property of the artists and writers, and it is their exclusive work. All images copyright 2007.)
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Monday, December 18, 2006
Friday, December 15, 2006
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Friday, December 08, 2006
" Songbirds Gather on a Warm Summer Night"
Last night on Thur 7th Dec'06
we met at my home for an evening meal,
23 singers of the Heartsong Choir
A group formed 3 years ago
A group of women who loved to sing
4 Part harmony was the norm, sometimes 5.
One could find their place in this group
no labels,singing in harmony seemed easy
Maryanne had lost her love of singing
keeping the group together was hard over the past few months
She had no energy,she did not want to disappoint us
she struggled on ...
We read the signs without words
Her year had been a brutal one
She nursed her young Brother John
who died in August from a brain tumour
A young man of 41 years
A teacher of History/English ,a musician ,a traveller
a left wing activist
Heartsong sang at the celebration of his life
We gathered one last time to be together
We shared a wonderful meal
We sang songs favourites,christmas hymns and carols
Tears were shed ,laughter of fun times ,disasters remembered
We come from all walks of life
Nurses,shop owner,care workers,geography teacher,a worker with
guide dogs,a young blind woman,a student,a disability worker
and her client who loved to sing and laugh,a female lay preacher
who works as an outreach worker, a chello player & on and on it goes
We sat late into the night and talked of our path for 2007
Maryanne will sell her flat and buy a house with a garden
a place of privacy where she can feel at peace
A room for music to teach, and learn to play the chello
Take a year off just for herself a year of low earnings but a year of need.
We will wait, we 23
We will keep in touch with each other,time permitting ,comittments permitting.
We will hope another choir is formed when Maryanne is rested
Some of us will look at other choirs
in our neighbourhoods
Choirs that don't have too many requirements
Choirs that don't say "You must be able to read music"
Choirs that don't say..." You must have an audition"
We 23 are not into too much professionalism
We sing because we love to
We sing because Maryanne was able to bring the best in us out
She nurtured our voices
She is a special singing teacher
She reminds me of Heather
One who is a rare & special teacher
A teacher who has that ability to allow
us to give and give without constraint.
I am priveledged to have met
two such teachers
They are teachers not met in my days of education.
Perhaps they are rare
So rare we need to keep them safe
In the circle of care and love.
Lois (Muse of the Sea) 8.12.06
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Monday, December 04, 2006
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Our Day
Our Day
Shreds of cloud
with pink
and silver lining.
Birds resting
on the roof ridge—
a feathered convention
chirping excitedly
as
upper breezes paint the sky
with broad strokes
dipped in passing clouds,
curved like horns of plenty.
Pink glides into
silver, then antique white
set in blue as
the sun,
a brilliant pulsating orb
appears on the stage,
commanding attention
as a diva commands
her audience
before lifting her voice
to the heavens.
Life giving energy
pushes the night away,
and the darkness,
before announcing that
another day has dawned
with light to see
each other
for what we really are—
travelers on this ship of hope—
this Blue Planet.
Revel in the music
until the final note
fades in the western sky.
It is from here,
my friends,
that we will spread our wings
and fly into the unknown,
beyond our sun—
.
We are the People of the Dawn.
Our day is yet to come.
Vi Jones
©December 1, 2006
Shreds of cloud
with pink
and silver lining.
Birds resting
on the roof ridge—
a feathered convention
chirping excitedly
as
upper breezes paint the sky
with broad strokes
dipped in passing clouds,
curved like horns of plenty.
Pink glides into
silver, then antique white
set in blue as
the sun,
a brilliant pulsating orb
appears on the stage,
commanding attention
as a diva commands
her audience
before lifting her voice
to the heavens.
Life giving energy
pushes the night away,
and the darkness,
before announcing that
another day has dawned
with light to see
each other
for what we really are—
travelers on this ship of hope—
this Blue Planet.
Revel in the music
until the final note
fades in the western sky.
It is from here,
my friends,
that we will spread our wings
and fly into the unknown,
beyond our sun—
.
We are the People of the Dawn.
Our day is yet to come.
Vi Jones
©December 1, 2006





















