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| Legend Café, with Leonard French paintings on wall, Bourke Street, 1956. |
A short time ago, I learned that Stuart Wilde popped his clogs on May Day in Ireland. I enjoyed Stuart's humour while some of his writings scared the squirrel crap out of me. His writings drew me into a deeper questioning of my own naive gullibility and ability to discriminate and think critically.
I have most of his books. He was my teacher.
I am still terribly spiritual without a pot to piss in and I know what that phrase means in the historical sense.
How precious it was to walk in this world, to breathe the same air, to look at the moon and the stars at the same time as a legendary teacher. I would not have missed it for the whirlwind.
Somewhere, out at the edges, the night
Is turning and the waves of darkness
Begin to brighten the shore of dawn
The heavy dark falls back to eary
And the freed air goes wild with light,
The heart fills with fresh, bright breath
And thoughts stir to give birth to colour.
May I live this day
Compassionate of heart,
Gentle in word,
Gracious in awareness
Courageous in thought,
Generous in love.
~ John O'Donohue
Vale, Stuart Wilde
[1946-2013]
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