Yorkston Thorne Khan live at Latitude

❤ My lovely brother Jon Thorne with his special buddies James and Suhail ❤

the sound and the fury

I first saw Yorkston Thorne Khan a year or two ago at the Great Escape festival. Their short show was a peculiar mixture of all their backgrounds and influences. I enjoyed everything they did, but when they finished with Sufi Song my eyes filled with tears and I was genuinely transported.

Yorkston Thorne Khan are a strange group. Superficially they seem to have little in common, but they clearly enjoy each other’s company enough to tour for a couple of years, record two albums, and keep producing surprising and beautiful music together. And they’re relaxed, confident, capable and utterly charming.

Suhail Yusuf Khan’s stunningly powerful voice and ethereal sarangi bring a heady exoticism to the acoustic guitar and double bass of Folk legend James Yorkston and peripatetic jazz bassist Jon Thorne, but they share everything equally, and never try to overpower each other. This music doesn’t need percussion to find…

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Reflections in a moment…….

All day on Friday I was looking at the stern of a ship docked at The Pierhead and as she turned to leave the ‘penny dropped’. With her horn playing ‘Wish upon a star’ and the outline of Mickey’s ears on her funnels; she is the Disney cruise ship.

She visited Liverpool a year ago and I went down to the seaside at the end of the street to watch her depart. It had been a lovely day and the beach was packed with happy people. A Mum needed to see to her two young sons making sandcastles and she turned to me smiling and asked if I could hold her new babe while she did what she needed to do. I stood there rocking her little one, listening to children’s excited chatter as Goofy and Mickey waved to them from the ship to the notes of ‘Wish upon a star’.

A year has gone by in a blink. Back then I did not know that I would be standing in my ‘happy bubble’ watching her leave this time from my front room window. That my work would have expanded and evolved, or that my life would have put down some deep loving roots in this place I chose as my home.

I am glad I didn’t know, as I stayed in the moment. I don’t want to know the future now thank you. This moment is a balanced place to be and the treasure in it is love for life as it flows.

Eldest

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

“Just how old are you?”
Although youth has long died,
“As young as the moment,”
My body replied.
“If I want to play out
In the sun, or climb trees,
Run laughing through dewdrops,
…I’ll do as I please.
I have a few wrinkles,
My hair’s going grey…
Inside I’m a child
And I still need to play.”

“Just how old are you then?”
My body asked mind,
“As old as conception,
Just think and you’ll find
I’ve been here all along,
In your cells and your brain,
Learning forever and seeking to gain
From experience, wisdom
That I can impart…
But perhaps we should ask
Just how old is the heart?”

“Just how old are you?”
Said the heart, “Here’s the deal…
I’m living two lives,
One to beat, one to feel.”
To the body, heart answered,
“My beating is yours.”
To the mind it replied,
“When you feel…

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Tools in a beloved shed….

Some time ago now my tools and personal effects went into storage in the space offered by a kind friend. Emails have been going back and forth as I arrange to move them out around September time. Mention has been made that mice have been living there as well and there may have been the odd nibble or two. Well, it will be what it is and I am grateful for the help when I needed it most.

Gratitude is a tool in a beloved shed.

A loving member of my family and I sat last night in my ‘happy bubble’ having a natter. We agreed that to look back attached suffering and upset and to look forward generated ‘what if’s’ and held fear. This moment that we had together was balanced and filled with love. Right then, the Queen Elizabeth cruise liner left port to a magnificent firework display and the repeated sounding of the ship’s horn. It went on a long time and this comment was made: “I think the Captain’s finger has got stuck”.

Laughter is a tool in a beloved shed.

I am blessed to work from home and to look out onto a peaceful view of water and nature. Everyday connections are made with folk who are struggling and wrestling with themselves and situations in life. Different insights and perspectives flow in and love wraps all in comfort and peace. The moment acceptance is found a door opens.

Acceptance is a tool in a beloved shed.

My loving man suggested we take ballroom dancing lessons together this Autumn and I beamed at him as he said this. It sparked a long forgotten hope and in that second the dust was blown off, old disappointments lifted and a dream stood in all her sparkling glory. ‘Oh, yes please, I would love to do that with you.’

Hope is a tool in a beloved shed.

Storytellers…..

Evening sky over The Mersey

I watched the sky yesterday evening and the colours flowing through were extraordinary. My photo does not do them justice as there were so many of them layered up there.

Layered stories.

Every single one of us is running with the story we tell ourselves and reacting to this and to the stories others flow with. All different stories. All different reactions. We often ask ‘Why?’ without first seeking to understand the story.

‘Beyond wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field, I will meet you there.’ Rumi

Love…..

Courtesy of Liverpool Echo

My days flow as I work watching the tides doing their natural thing, birds riding the thermals and all sorts of crafts sailing on the water. Late on Thursday night and into Friday morning the tall ships sailed in for the festival this weekend and it was a breathtaking sight.

I felt drawn to come and live here, not knowing a soul or the area, with a pull so heartfelt I followed it.

This weekend arrangements flowed in and out and all of us were drawn together by love; of a partner, a brother and a lifelong friend.

Seasons flow with our lives in a state of flux and the world in change. Nothing lasts.

The constant is love. ❤

Rambling roses…….

There’s an old tree growing in the side passageway and the branches spread out at the edge of my kitchen window. It has leaves, but mostly it is covered in ivy and provides a playground for sparrows and chaffinches. Last week I spotted a hint of pink and there was a new fragrance flowing through the window. I went into the street yesterday and there she was in all her glory; a climbing rose, rambling in her own sweet way.

George was unexpectedly free on Saturday afternoon and he called. ‘Would you like me to take you to visit your Mum and Dad, because you’re not able to see them on Father’s Day?’ George rambling in his own wonderful way.

We all sat outside surrounded by my Mum’s pots and flowers as we chatted, ate and shared stories. At one stage George and Dad were up in one of Dad’s workshops (yes, I do mean one) and our food was ready. Mum said ‘Go and call the men Darling, the ice cream is melting.’ As we were leaving Mum placed a knitted jacket in my hands. ‘After your Great Granny got better and her sight returned, the first thing she made was this jacket for you.’ Family love rambling in it’s own special way.


Jane Sturgeon

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