Leaves of gold are falling fast
Along with acorns and beech mast.

The lawn is littered with all sorts
Ginger tom thinks its cat sports
Chasing as the wind decides
Better than any fairground rides.
Says he!

The winter sun is white and bright
Clocks ticked back, time less tight …
As all enjoyed their Sunday lie in
Mum puts off the mountain of ironing.

The leaves of gold are not alone
With bronze and brass and many a tone
Some are still as green as verdigris
Its all a matter of some small degree.

Such colours look like giant’s confetti
But it’s just mother nature’s graffiti
As she plays with our fragile senses
Daring us to control with walls and fences.

Ever changing as the wild winds depict
North east to south west, oh so slick
The wind gives me just a little tingle
As the tiny white bells of the fuchsia jingle.

The black bamboo puts out a shoot
Good job we confined its voracious root
Looks like a snake to bite your boot
Before it raises its head like cobra’s hood.

With raised cut the lawn looks lush
The world winds down … no rush
To sit and breathe, marvel and enjoy
I get it, centred, at peace, pure joy.

Leaves of gold? Pure speculation!
© David Tenneson –2017

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Well, at the start of what I call the Silly Season …
I remember a time when all we had was a large Bush Radio in the corner of the dining room of the Guest House run by my Mum.

Not always on, but at times of interest to the guests, some of whom were permanent and would ask for the news while they ate. This was in the 1950s when we still had rationing, but luckily that was soon to end at about the time of the coronation of Elizabeth II.

Not that rationing meant much odds to us kids, the kind senior citizens gave their sweet coupons to the owner of the newsagent come sweet shop on my cycle ride to school so we could all enjoy their generosity for a few pennies each day, not that it did our teeth much good!

Having a gift of half a crown as a teenager my Mum blew it all on liquorice and bought so much she laid it out on the back of a park bench and sold it on to other children, a budding business woman even at that young age!

So, after school with no telly to watch and the grown ups huddled round some boring program on the radio, after homework and chores were done the evening was our own and the local kids would get together to play the usual games of Hide and Seek, Truth, Dare, Kiss, Promise or Kick! Weird or what?

Didn’t much care for the latter, but I usually won the Hide and Seek by hiding in my favourite place of the Graveyard where no one dared to follow after dark!

Boys only split into two teams and played High Cockalorum, which I bet you’ve never heard of and just to enlighten you: It consists of one team with a lad standing facing a wall and the rest in a row out from the first with head between his legs bent forward and holding on to the belt of the guy in front and the other team ran and jumped as far up the caterpillar like bridge as possible and when all were on board lurched up and down to try and break the back of the bridge! Then all changed to see who was the strongest.

As we got older the door to the Youth Club was open to us, but you had to go to church to join! I read the lesson for the Club one year at the service of nine lessons and carols and after the service was asked by the Vicar if I had considered training for the Ministry! And I liked the Graveyard? Something going on there, or what?

But then I suppose I did end up as the Secretary of a church and Vice President, so maybe it was all in a good cause for such an effect. Eh?

The childhood games were 60 odd years ago and last month we had the doubtful pleasure of finding out yet again what it would be like to lose our TV but in this day and age it had to be taken away from us by the emergency team to the TV Hospital which was sad as it was only 14 months old a mere youngster in the grand scheme of things or was it because they don’t make things like they used to? It was a faulty Mother Board. Doesn’t that sound sad?

As I said to my daughters: without our daily fix of the programmes we like to watch we had to find other avenues to use the brain and fill the time and of course we became Scrabble Junkies, serenaded by Classic fm, as you do, and that has now become a standard after dinner pastime.

It also prompted the downloading of BBC One on the PC which I am not sure was such a good idea, but who knows it could prove useful in the future together with the BBC Weather which I consult on a daily basis on the Mobile being something of a fair weather fellow: I have to admit, planning the daily walk in the dry! Investing in a full length waterproof now.

Much of the year I spend in the Garden which is one of my passions, but at this time of falling splendour and the season of storms when all is dying down for a winter sleep there is less to do to keep me busy, but as the various plots and pots are still in the planning stage it does leave room for more decisions and careful consideration to get the most out of our micro areas of Base, Kings and Monastery Gardens as we call them, which surround the house. Small they may be, but important in the scheme of Rainbow Colours to us as they circle round the bricks and mortar.

Something I had little time or urge for in the past was reading and never been a fan of fiction, except for the essentials being so busy with other things like watching the history and science documentaries and quiz shows to keep the brain active, but now the field is open for catch-up on all the info of interest that floods the letter box.

I hear you say, this is an ideal time for meditation and mindfulness and yes indeed, but they are accommodated in the normal journey through any day.

With nothing else to do: on my favourite Orkney island of Sanday, certainly in the summer we used to lie on our backs and watch the clouds go by and here I do take time to smell the roses on my daily avenue of acquaintance with the neighbours front gardens.

We are blessed to have time to fill while others have no time in more than busy lives and I guess the lesson from all of this is to marshal time and not let time marshal you nor to let the box decide our life however fascinating the quiz or brain food!

Sad? No not really just a bit of whimsy, busy as ever during the day, I wonder how I ever had time to work, just so not used to relaxing! Ha, ha. 
Caring for all, Hanukah & the Angel

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A Day to Remember

The second of December, a day to remember, fast approaching, Christmas is coming,
When we’ll take the high road on a track well worn to the far flung family in joy and celebration,
But today is a day that will remain in the mind you could say just one of a kind,
The end of the chill for a spate just to tempt us out on this auspicious date and why I give it a rate,
A rating of just great, the beginning of separation after the ardour of preparation.

All is done with presents in the sack, puddings in the larder and precooked goodies in the freezer,
We are almost ready to hit the road to head to the meeting place with others heading down from their own space,
The scene is set if only in the mind before it all comes together for one another to find, meet and unwind,
Just a few short weeks before the migrations begin, the engines are revving already it seems,
The anticipation is palpable, you can smell it in the air, when we can show off our culinary flair.

It’s today we can claim that our prep’s all done, the pressure is off given way to anticipation.
Joshing complaints that our cards were first to arrive, and with Autumn’s leaves swept from the drive,
Who said that retirement wasn’t fun? We have time on our side saying that our bit is all done,
But wait, some last minute chores have slackened the pace as we struggle to accommodate this Century’s Grace,
With becoming wired up for vision and sound for the youngsters as they abound.

What’s the point and why the hurry? No hurry really as it’s mostly favour to curry,
With generations’ demands to fulfil our reputation for things that they know and love which we offer in oblation,
Perhaps it should be flavour to curry as they relish our love of the Indian spice served with our special lemon flavoured rice,
But that will come after the main meal is gone and we cook up a feast announced with the gong,
Oh, the anticipation of the celebration banquet, it seems it’s all about the food, but truth is: it’s to meet and greet all those whom we love. Can’t wait!
© David Tenneson –2017

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While up in the mountains of Spain
Snow fell in winter again and again
Until the cold dropped to twenty below
Began to question if it really was snow!

Or some other freezing substance
That froze the pipes in an instant
For a week we had no mains water
Neighbours left bottles by the quartern.

Moving down to the warmer plains
(You know what they say in Spain)
We could make no such claims
As snow came just for a day
Then melted and went away.

But after we got back to blighty
The south of Spain was blighted
With many orchards devastated
And with blizzards inundated.

Here, so far, we’ve seen not a flake
A far cry from my memory’s take
Of 47 and 87, white stuff ruled
Devon was certainly over-cooled.
(And we’re forecast more this year)

A seasonal sprinkle is quite pretty
Overdone becomes a land too gritty
Disrupting life in its various themes
Despite our best laid plans and schemes.

In countries where it is expected
Winter sports are certainly elected
The various pistes are to be enjoyed
With a certain athletic skill employed.

Snow is a place of happiness for many
Winter wouldn’t be the same without any
With Lillywhites toboggan and a hilly hike
I made a ski bike from old skis and a bike.

We had such fun in the virgin snow
Competition was the thing, it was all go
Racing, careering, laughing and calling
To the next a challenge at risk of falling.

Then home for baked potatoes and cocoa
Mulled wine for adults, stimulated mojo!
A good time was had by all in the snow
Can we go again Dad? Call for more snow!

Those days are gone and just a fond memory
Nothing found in the overburdened inventory
Now are the days when grandchildren rule
Thiers is the scooter, bike and skateboard pool.

When it comes to the white stuff driven or blown
Skate becomes snowboard in a class of its own
We stand on the sidelines and applaud the win
It’s good to enjoy Mother Nature’s oblation.

Each snowflake is as unique as each of our race
The same as the difference between each face
Just as each Soul is individual in consciousness
Snowfall is just a glory of creation to witness.
© David Tenneson –2017

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What you believe is your confinement of consciousness.
We are all kept within the cage constructed by our birth and environment, being the two strongest influences in our growing years which are so embedded that those consequent beliefs are the most difficult to change. There is no choice about it!

Not impossible to change, but a deal of brain washing or threat from changing peer pressure, are what it would take for most to suffer such a monumental change. Without the kind of promises made by powerful powers giving you the opportunity to experience, fighting for a sacred cause with death not being an end, but offering the ultimate accolade in the eyes of a divine being, washing away of sins, or once becoming a member of a brotherhood or street gang with the threat of death if one ever thought of leaving, there is no option but to conform to a new and all consuming belief.

As a race we need most carefully to consider the responsibility of being a parent, carer or teacher, adequately and safely to educate the young, extolling the virtues of respect, compassion and love as the trinity of the starting steps to a belief in the true brotherhood of mankind on the ladder of Ascension.

Of course there is another avenue to use in the needful, if necessary, changing of the belief patterns which we all enjoy: As we have mooted more than many times we are so often given from before birth and throughout our growing years the thoughts, ideas, phobias and beliefs of our nearest and hopefully dearest through to the inside of the womb and thereon.

The vibrations of consciousness are hidden, but powerful with the ability to colour a life from the womb, birth and onwards!

So, there comes a time, a moment of inner examination when we have to follow the fine line of our feelings, leading to our beliefs which we are then, upon careful scrutiny, able to see if they are what we really want to believe or if they belong to others who have implanted those ideas in our minds from the very beginning?

This you may view as an almost heretical exercise going against all that those whom we have come to love despite their own obvious failings have often unwittingly given to us and unwritten but demanded to be taken as gospel!

Nevertheless, we have to understand that we are unique individuals and we must not be swayed by feelings of loyalty or perhaps misplaced adoration in others, but begin to see where our true, unique path in this life lies.

Influences are legion and bounce off our consciousness in a multitude of ways, both in our waking consciousness and also from our subconscious when asleep. Most of us see these important visions, well remembered and written down on waking as dreams. (Keep a pad and pen handy at all times, to record both night time dreams and also day dreams) I can attest to déjà vu and also warning dreams telling me of something I am about to experience and to take extra care.

I have books on the interpretation of dreams, but in my experience dreams are so individual with personal symbols unique to the dreamer that only he or she can adequately interpret the true meaning.

Blessed with a strong imagination, I had a vision interpreted by a North American Shaman, but even he had to ask me what the various images represented to me before he could give any meaning to my vision.

Conversely in proposing to find my totem animal an English Shaman found my companion with due ceremony without any reference to my own ideas, symbols or beliefs.

However, sometimes we need a little help to sort out our true beliefs and quite honestly the revelations can be disturbing at first until we realise that the new thoughts, feelings and beliefs are truly what are ours and no one else’s.

The question is: Are you up for it?
Are you up to the challenge to question what have been your guiding beliefs all these years?

We are given many challenges during a lifetime most of which are the consequence of the need for a certain experience, in a certain family in a certain environment and don’t tell me you don’t believe that all those have an influence on you as a person, your thoughts and beliefs? Well they certainly do!

It may not be you as a person who wanted those influences in your life, but it sure is the most important aspect of the probabilities outlined and expected by the Soul, the Silent Witness on its further journey this time round.

You may be fortunate to have recall of a previous existence or been blessed to undergo a Far Memory technique to give you a clue or undergone Hypnosis in the form of Regression. But if you are still interested and wanting help, be very careful in your choice of practitioner whichever method you choose if that is what you consider you need, I would dearly love to recommend a dear friend who was excellent at Far Memory but she passed away in her 90s.

However in is this time round, it should concern you to find the source of what you really believe, so do make sure that that source is from within you and not from elsewhere!
Warning & Caring for all, Hanukah & the Angel

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Rain tattoo on the Velux overhead
Is no incentive to leave the bed
Save the dream and clear the head …

The body needs a good shake
To get rid of the nightly ache
Wash, then breakfast to make.

Today: ginger, honey and porridge
With fresh full milk, no need to forage
Then a brisk walk up on the ridge.

Tack with the flow like any ship
Shepherds crook is within my grip
Constant thought, no gossip.

My logic is the Source I know
Surely the best and only way to go
Cobwebs fly as the winds all blow.

What was that Dream I wonder?
Autumn leaves fly and flounder
Like Dreams fly away, plundered.

Plucked from the waking mind
But, there’s a constancy left behind
The thought of a different kind.

The Lord Logos now fills my mind
This is the best incentive I can find
To live life to the best I can define.

Every thought and act and dream
Conjures images of ‘cats and cream’
Where are we without this Stream?

The Stream, like no water ever was
Divine Grace wrapped like the Cos
Unfolds as I’m aware of the Logos.

So, what of the dream that came
Was it just another mental game
A message by another name?

Or was it the warning warned about
That it sure was coming hereabouts
Or imagination, finding its way out?

Briskly walking and staring into space
Here comes the day dream pace by pace
Then the cock pheasant flies in my face.

I must have disturbed the old bird’s cover
As I hear from the shore the cry of the plover
I see overhead my careful kestrel windhover.

Back to earth with a shiver, and tear of joy
Such odd artefacts some watchers employ
When all my flying friends are there to enjoy.

To me this is what true dreams are made of
Coming to me without sending raven or dove
My friends in the sky remain free and above.

It’s impossible to hold every single dream
Tantalising snatches like drips of fresh cream
Whet my appetite, to hold onto the next fleme.
© David Tenneson –2017

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There comes a time in the annals of men and women when discretion proves the better part of valour. However, there are times when passion pervades the consciousness, discretion flies and the watchers ring their hands wondering what happened to their words of care, safety and security implanted in the minds of their loved ones.

As an illustration: in illusion when it proves only too easy to convince, especially the young, that they should follow the path to glory, martyrdom in
a faith and be convinced of a cause they have only just heard about or maybe they had become disenchanted with their own path to the Divine!

The illusion surely is that this opportunity will lead them to a direct connection to the Divine, God or Allah or by any other name fitting their concept of the ultimate power which they have been denied and since suicide is close in the consciousness they can see martyrdom as the responsibility of someone else but something they could tolerate?

Is this the way that they can express a pent up passion to do something worth while, be someone in this world with the added advantage of instant martyrdom or possible sainthood and the admiration of their peers?

In the wider consciousness, it is not seen like that. By going to war you open yourself to the ultimate sin of taking your own life. If you pull the pin it is down to you, but if someone fires the bullet with your name on it then they are equally to blame with you having placed yourselves in that position. Guilty of suicide! Assisted suicide takes on a different slant in this context.

In the theatre of war both you and the opposition have placed yourselves in that position maybe by conscription, by no desire or fault of your own or conversely by your own feelings of duty or passion for the cause. It matters not which avenue brought you to that place. You only have to look at the smiles on the faces of soldiers marching to war revelling in the camaraderie so confident of victory and imagine the conflict within themselves of butterflies of fear and apprehension in the gut against confidence of outcome in the consciousness.

Of course I speak of the war into which I was born, but seen again as the young are brainwashed into IS and against all international odds arrive in Syria to fight for the cause. What cause? It is certainly not the cause of Islam.

Sad is it not that we as a race throughout history have never learnt the lesson of history?

However, there is no accounting for the individual Free-will which allows the passion of the person to overrule what most would term common sense. So where do we go wrong in the education and provision for the young in the most passionate phase of their young lives. They need to prove, they need to be worthy, they need for someone if only their peers to be proud of them.

Do we go wrong in our role of parent or educator or is it in the wider fundamental concept that war solves everything, but in truth solves nothing and in which no one wins.

In all of our grand thoughts have we really lost sight of the passion of respect?

Anger, violence and aggression are the tools of the few, but in the depths of our consciousness, some call our heart which I refute, is the ongoing battle between right and wrong, good and bad, between the dark and the light sides of our human nature which exists within us all. If you don’t know of it look deeply into your own consciousness!

Our higher teaching tells us that there is no good or bad, only difference and since the Divine holds as all in unconditional love, regardless of who or what we call one another, the question must arise again: Where did we as ethnic groups, but mainly as individuals go awry?

If we look carefully we can find groups of people on this planet who have found a formula to account for everyone in their like minded grouping so that all are viewed with the passion of love, all are helped through tough times and violence is abhorred.

Of course we are too proud of our own achievements which we see as sacred and hold onto with passion, to take any notice of those who might have found a better way. In our quest which we are told is to find happiness in all that we say and do it must be with care and a passion for the good of all.

As against the gospel of the many who believe that violence solves everything!
Warning & Caring for all, Hanukah & the Angel

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