Well it’s quite warm, even if it’s as grey as the last few days, this campervan morning. Back under the Oak and Ash, their leaves still intact. The ground drier than it has been for a good few days. A firm breeze rattling through the trees, making the morning about ruffling leaves, far off Ducks and a few Sparrows colour the air. There is a sense and a feeling in the air that we are on the cusp of a weather change. I have been reflecting yesterday on a conversation I had a few days ago around strands. The varying strands that make us up. I think if I was to go back through the 750 odd campervan mornings there would be strands that would become apparent that make me up, that complete my ‘Rope’ so to speak. The poet and artist William Morris wrote :
“ Not one strand are all life’s jewels strung “.
I have been reflecting on the strands of my past and my present on which the future is hung. The strands of my upbringing, education, various jobs, friendships and communities. The strands of my personality and its make up, my deeper relationships, the conversations that have stuck with me, the experiences that I still carry, that have become entwined within who I am. The journeys, travel and people I have met and those I have let go of. It’s actually a huge piece of rope that I carry around with me, each strand an encounter, an experience, a person and a feeling. The closer to the middle of the rope you get the more essential that strand is, the more important they are, the more the essence of who I am they are. As you cut ( As in therapy ), the core of the rope is revealed, the very last strands in the very centre, the last things to let go, or give way. Fascinating conversation. And today is Friyay and time for thoughts of weekend. lovely days people.
“ A person needs a little madness or else they never dare to cut the rope “ Nikos Kazantzakis.
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