For Whom the Bell Tolls…
Time was when the sound of peeling bells was a commonplace across the towns and cities of the Isles of Britain.
These days it is relatively rare, so when I heard the bells of St Mary’s Church in Ilkeston town centre ringing out across the market square, I was compelled to record and share it.
There is a deep resonance in these chimes which ring deep into the fibre of our being. In fact, I was deeply moved by the sound and the fact that it was a sunny day (the first in 40+ days) simply added to the delight of the moment.
Appropriately enough, the whole experience served to remind me, yet again, of the fact that in these dark times of the Apocalypse, an epoch in which we are deep in the midst of a spiritual war between good and evil, we are not alone.
In the light of which, John Donne’s poem is as glorious now as it ever was,
For whom the Bell Tolls
No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
Wishing you a splendid day, wheresover you may be.
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