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Showing posts from July, 2008

Whatsoever walks in the paths of the Sea

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On an autumn day, where cattle grazed, I crossed marshy fields to the beach. Ragged Robin, the summer’s last flowers danced in the breeze. The first skeins of wintering geese honked in the sky. Beyond the dunes 30 seals were hauled up on the sands, lolling around like so many enormous slugs. More were out at sea impersonating inquisitive black Labradors . I sat. How therapeutic it is to sit with seals! They have the art of being and not doing ! I’d parked at the National Trust’s Horsey Mere car park. There are toilets and a café open every day to the end of October and at week ends through November. I’d used the permissive footpath that leads off from the other side of the road - if you are at all in doubt ask at the café they’ll direct you! Once on the beach, turn right and you soon come to the seals . A few are there most of the year but they turn up in numbers in September and October. My way took me back past the pub – refreshments here are recommended - and...

A quieter calmer Walsingham

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Remembering how they “ went with the throng, * and led them in procession to the house of God, with glad shouts and songs of thanksgiving.” (Psalm 42) A great and holy place I know! But when I’ve been there on my own, I find it too restless with pilgrims to settle to prayer. Scilla Landale introduced me to a quieter, calmer Walsingham. Here are some highlights:- 1) On a raised section of lawn in the Abbey grounds is a six inch wooden square. It marks the site of the original place of pilgrimage. I stood on the spot, took in the very English country scene and reflected about the vision that had led the Lady Richeldis to build the replica of Jesus’ and Mary’s Nazareth home. 2)Crossing the grass to where the Priory’s high altar once stood, I tried to imagine the generations of Christians, from 1061 to the present day who had come here to pay homage to the human Jesus and the mother who had nurtured him. I marvelled anew at the mystery of the inca...