Posted by Anthony (other posts) on September 11, 2018 at 12:31:03 Previous Next
In Reply to: Re: Older Guys posted by Ted on September 09, 2018 at 15:26:51:
Hello Ted,
Nice to hear from you. The mane is still there, 5 years without any cutting, and mid-back. I seem to be at terminal length. I am grateful that I have what I have. The "journey" seems to be over, but I keep on washing it when it needs a wash and brushing it.
Indeed, the first two years are exciting, and it is a part of our self discovery. It brings me to think of that wonderful poem of Thomas Traherne "The Salutation". He makes no mention of hair, but I think we can include it in our sense of wonder on discovering the results of our creation.
These little limbs,
These eyes and hands which here I find,
These rosy cheeks wherewith my life begins,
Where have ye been? behind
What curtain were ye from me hid so long?
Where was, in what abyss, my speaking tongue?
When silent I
So many thousand, thousand years
Beneath the dust did in a chaos lie,
How could I smiles or tears,
Or lips or hands or eyes or ears perceive?
Welcome ye treasures which I now receive.
I that so long
Was nothing from eternity,
Did little think such joys as ear or tongue
To celebrate or see:
Such sounds to hear, such hands to feel, such feet,
Beneath the skies on such a ground to meet.
New burnished joys,
Which yellow gold and pearls excel!
Such sacred treasures are the limbs in boys,
In which a soul doth dwell;
Their organizèd joints and azure veins
More wealth include than all the world contains.
From dust I rise,
And out of nothing now awake;
These brighter regions which salute mine eyes,
A gift from God I take.
The earth, the seas, the light, the day, the skies,
The sun and stars are mine if those I prize.
Long time before
I in my mother’s womb was born,
A God, preparing, did this glorious store,
The world, for me adorn.
Into this Eden so divine and fair,
So wide and bright, I come His son and heir.
A stranger here
Strange things doth meet, strange glories see;
Strange treasures lodged in this fair world appear,
Strange all and new to me;
But that they mine should be, who nothing was,
That strangest is of all, yet brought to pass.