Re: Prince Henry in the New World

["labehotierre" <labehotierre@wanadoo.fr>]

  Dear Rob

Sitting by the beautiful River Risle, once a Norman boundary, as it gave
it's gold to the sea, the air fresh with smell of the encroaching autumn,
reading I came upon these passages and thought of you and of the wondrous
time at our Princes remembrances.  Tim Wallace-Murphy came to mind with his
eloquent message of what Henry left, thoughts of Rory and John Q and John of
Australia proudly marching, amongst 8,000 pipers down Princes Street
Edinburgh playing his pipes flying his tiny Australian flag. Laurel is in my
mind, with Don her husband. Ken W and Dizzydell looking for her grandfather
permeate my thoughts.  What a wonderful thing this Internet is. It has
started to lightly rain giving lushness to our Norman fields.  The sheep
have come over the electric fence my first thought is to call  Gilbert and
scold him for not turning on the current but I am to much a peace  do that.
The light lit in Caithness by our Chief and carried to Nova Scotia gives a
glow that, at this distance, warms me

 "And as I stood there on quiet evening as the sea struck up
    its song with a deep and calm solemnity...and then the hoarse
    screech of the gulls reminded me that I stood alone, and every
    thing vanished before my eyes, and I turned back with a heavy
    heart to mix in the busy world, yet without forgetting such
    blessed moments."

   "I have often stood there and looked out upon my past life and
    upon the different surroundings which have exercised their
    power upon me: and the pettiness which so often gives offence
    in life, the numerous misunderstandings too often separating
    minds which if they properly understood one another would be
    bound together by indissoluble ties, vanished before my gaze."

   "Seen thus in perspective only the broad and powerful outline
    showed, and I did not, as so frequently happens to me, lose
    myself in the moment, but saw everything as a whole and was
    strengthened to understand things differently, to admit how
    often I had blundered, and to forgive others."

    -Soren Kierkegaard (1813-1855), Papers and Journals (1834-1842)


Sinclair


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