The size will be 21 cm x 21 cm with a photo and a page with the days of the month.
The conventional 2019 calendar will be in English with both English and French holidays
OR I will also make some perpetual calendars where the dates will feature in the order of the 2019 weeks but there will be no writing of days or holidays and with an optional 29 February!
The price will be £20 (about 23 euros) + Postage. Free postage on orders over £50
To order a calendar click the button “add to cart” under the picture.
A shopping cart will appear at the bottom of the page when it refreshes. You can change the quantity if you want more than 1 and press enter: the shopping cart will adjust the price.
When you have finished click on “check out with PayPal”. You are then on a secure page. The order summary will open on the page where you can choose to pay with a PayPal account or with a debit/credit card.
Long life is a blessing, but even the longest lives are brief… maybe we overdo our concern for the length of our lives and give insufficient attention to the passion brought to whatever time was had.
The meaning and purpose of life are great mysteries, and in that light a very brief life, of only minutes, can be full and rounded. The soul has appeared in the flesh; then it returns to its home of origin.
A life has been lived.
Maybe we don’t achieve something grand and heroic in the days of our lives. Fame and achievement may not be our destiny. It may be sufficient to be here, to open our hearts, take in what is offered, make our contribution at whatever level is granted, and gracefully depart.
Gott spricht zu jedem nur, eh er ihn macht,
dann geht er schweigend mit ihm aus der Nacht.
Aber die Worte, eh jeder beginnt,
diese wolkigen Worte sind:
Von deinen Sinnen hinausgesandt,
geh bis an deiner Sehnsucht Rand;
gib mir Gewand.
Hinter den Dingen wachse als Brand,
daß ihre Schatten ausgespann
timmer mich ganz bedecken.
Laß dir alles geschehn: Schönheit und Schrecken.
Man muß nur gehn: Kein Gefühl ist das fernste.
Laß dich von mir nicht trennen.
Nah ist das Land,
das sie das Leben nennen.
Du wirst es erkennen
an seinem Ernste.
Gib mir die Hand.
God speaks to each of us as s/he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Flare up like flame
and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don’t let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand.
(Rilke’s Book of Hours, I, 59)