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Jean-Pierre Pincemin
Sans titre 2005

In the days when I worked full time at the day job, this was a time to complete, to wrap up the year end, make make a dash for the break. At the same time, it was a time to look forward to the new year, to plan new ventures, seek out new business possibilities. It usually involved targets, objectives and projections that would be built into the new year’s business plans. By the time Christmas arrived I was usually exhausted and stretched like a violin string full of anxiety for the next year. The joys of the self employed. As I grew older and attempted to be more philosophical. I tried to find time to build a personal practice that better suited my situation. I wrote about one attempt at this and it may be a signpost as we begin to think of new year resolutions and self improvement and so on.

As always, read, enjoy, share. I would love some feedback. Enjoy the coming season with a special thought and effort towards those who are disadvantaged for whatever reason.

A Week of Retreat

The test was to set out a practice -
a daily ritual that would put life into some shape
that would map to getting older -
nearer to the inevitable.

Have to report that it didn’t work -
the rebel up-scuttled it completely
reached the place of why bother
why not bow to lifelong patterns

It did start out well, it has to be said
reflection, exercise, scribbles happened
it even embraced the good habit of
hygiene and eating sensibly.

Day three brought the volta –
dramatic collapse of the party’s resolve -
lethargy prevailed and constrained -
a day of observation of the nothing.

From then on it was
limp awkwardly, painfully out of the black hole
into some sort of shaping of time
some kind of doing, to halve the rot.

A kind of repair can be happily reported -
fraction though it is, but
fault lines are gaping and dangerous –
a jagged reminder of the fragility of things.

Peter Clarke
July 2016

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