"The still point . . . "

When the weather is fine, the Edinburgh Boy and I like to walk for an hour or so in the late afternoon  or early evening along the riverbank. He swims in the Thames; I take photos.

All Saints, Bisham, which has stood here at the river's edge for hundreds of years, is a favourite stopping point for many photographers, professional and amateur. On a glorious day like today, everything comes together perfectly, from whichever angle you are looking: 

a cloudless sky, late summer sun falling softly on ancient brick and flint, sunlight and stones reflected across water.

The lines that always come to mind when I'm here are from Burnt Norton, the first of T S Eliot's Four Quartets:

"At the still point of the turning world; neither flesh not fleshless;

Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,

But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,

Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,

Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,

There would be no dance, and there is only the dance."

We all need our own still points, especially as we get older, and we all have ways of recognising them when they present themselves. This is one of mine.

Comments

[wendy robertson]

Dear 60-16

Your posts are beautiful. The words and the images reflect each other and intensify the message. The Bisham Church is ageless. You lead us from that to Eliot's words. Those last two lines are breathtaking; they brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for that.

Your posts make me think I should walk more. Or does one need a dog for that?

wx

[Maureen]

How beautiful.

[Jay]

What a lovely poem! And perfectly illustrated by that beautiful scene.

[Kathleen Jones]

This is absolutely lovely - you've communicated the stillness and that sense of being caught up by the moment. The Eliot quote is perfect. I've always loved the 4 quartets - how could such a strange and unlikeable man write such beautiful stuff?
K

[60 Going On 16]

Thanks so much everyone; so pleased that this worked for you too.

Wendy: having a dog (or dogs as it was for me until earlier this year) has enabled me to search out and walk in places that I probably wouldn't have done on my own. And it was through having dogs that I rediscovered the joys of walking, although have done rather less cycling as a consequence . . .

Kathleen: it's that knotty old problem of how we respond to something of obvious beauty, when we disagree profoundly with or abhor the views or the actions of the person who created it. Eric Gill is a prime example; his work was sublime but who could condone his behaviour? (And did we change the way we responded to his work after the publication of Fiona MacCarthy's biography of Gill, which revealed to the wider world just how he had lived.) I don't have any easy answers to this, by the way. What do others think?