A Rich Tapestry

 

A Rich Tapestry

May our lives be a reflection

of all we have lived through,

the joy, the sorrow,

the seasons that shaped us,

and the moments that changed us.

May grief not be something

we hide from the story of who we are,

but one of its deepest chapters,

a quiet testament to the love

that still echoes through our lives.

For those we have lost

do not simply vanish.

They linger in the language we speak,

in the gestures that carry their imprint,

in the tenderness we offer,

in the quiet places within us

that their love helped shape.

And perhaps this is what it means

to remember,

not to remain anchored in the past,

but to let what was

continue illuminating

all that is still unfolding.

May sorrow open us to tenderness.

May every farewell deepen

our understanding of love.

And may every memory

glow softly

within the life we continue to live.

And may we walk gently onward,

knowing that every life is a tapestry,

woven from moments we cherished,

sorrows we endured,

people we loved,

and memories that remain.

Some threads are golden,

some are dark with grief,

some almost invisible with time,

yet each belongs to the whole.

And perhaps that is the beauty,

not that every thread is without sorrow,

but that woven together

they become the story

of a life deeply lived,

a life made richer by its tenderness,

more compassionate through its sorrow,

and more luminous

for having loved so fully.

~ 'A Rich Tapestry' by Spirit of a Hippie

- Mary Anne Byrne

~ Art by Yasuaki Nadaya

Source: Spirit of a Hippie on Facebook

*Letter to Life as I approach my 95th birthday

 

Some things bloom late—but they still bloom beautifully.

At 55,
I became known to many as Hyacinth Bucket — a character I believed would be a small role in a little sitcom. ( Keeping Up Appearances on british TV).
Instead, she carried me into millions of living rooms, and oddly enough… into my own heart.

She was loud, proud, impossible to ignore.
And somehow, she helped me embrace parts of myself I’d kept hidden for decades.

That role didn’t make me famous.
It made me whole.

At 65,
I stopped waiting for permission.
I began learning Italian — not for work, but so I could feel opera in its native tongue.
I discovered I rather liked my own company.
I read poetry aloud to no one in particular, simply because it softened the day.
I learned how to be alone… without being lonely.

At 75,
I returned to the Shakespearean stage — a place I once feared I had aged out of.
But this time, I carried no fear of critics or applause.
I stood in stillness.
And I let the words move through me — not because I had something to prove,
but because they still had something to offer.

It wasn’t a performance.
It was presence.

At 85,
I picked up a watercolor brush with unsure hands.
I painted what I remembered:
roses from my garden, old hats from the 60s, faces once seen on the London Underground.

Not to exhibit. Not to impress.
Just to preserve memory — one soft stroke at a time.
Each painting was a small act of remembering.

And now, at 95,
I write letters by hand.
I bake rye bread.
I breathe deeply in the mornings and whisper thanks to the sky.
I listen more than I speak.
I laugh often, but no longer try to be the one who makes others laugh.

I have nothing left to prove — and so much left to feel.

So I’m writing this not as a farewell,
but as a gentle reminder:

Growing older isn’t a fading.
It can be a radiant unfolding.
A blooming — not back to youth,
but back to yourself.

Let these years ahead be your treasure years.
You don’t need fame.
You don’t need perfection.
You only need a presence.

Show up. Gently. Fully. Authentically.
And life — if you let it — will always meet you halfway.

Attributed to Patricia Routledge RIP

Hope is Hard

 

Source: Grit & Grace on Facebook

I met the moon for coffee

I met the moon for coffee

It was Friday night I think

When she watched me hardly sleeping

And invited me for drinks

We found ourselves a table

In the middle of the night

And the constellations twinkled

Like a thousand fairy lights

She asked me how I’d been

As she poured coffee from a pot

For she said she’d watched me

Waking up at midnight quite a lot

I said my brain was far too full

My mind was always on

And when I woke it felt as if

I was the only one

The only one who lay awake

Whilst I sat on my bed

With thoughts that raced at lightning speed

Around my busy head

The only one who watched the clock

Tick one and two and three

Who laid awake and worried

Whilst the world was fast asleep

My thoughts were stuck in orbit

And I couldn’t pull them back

As they preferred to swim against

A sky so vast and black

The moon said simply nothing

But she opened up a book

And I saw it was a diary

So I took a closer look

And listed there were names of people

All around the world

And all the thoughts and worries

That the moon had overheard

Just then, my eyes were drawn towards

The name that was my own

And that was when the moon said

“See, you shouldn’t feel alone”

And then she pulled me close

Using the night sky as a blanket

And said “I know you sometimes feel

So lonely on this planet

But when you cannot sleep,

Get up and watch me from your room

And you’ll see so many others

Having coffee with the moon”

********

Becky Hemsley 2022

Artwork by Rosemarie Valsoaney 

Poem is from her book, What the Wild Replied

Source: Becky Hemsley Poetry on Facebook

Neil Young - Harvest Moon Unplugged

 

Come a little bit closer
Hear what I have to say
Just like children sleepin'
We could dream this night away

But there's a full moon risin'
Let's go dancin' in the light
We know where the music's playin'
Let's go out and feel the night

Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon

When we were strangers
I watched you from afar
When we were lovers
I loved you with all my heart

But now it's gettin' late
And the moon is climbin' high
I want to celebrate
See it shinin' in your eye

Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon

Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon

Jimmy Buffett - Come Monday (1974)

 

When the Dust Falls Away