Early morning rise this campervan morning and clear skies and stars above me. A waning moon hangs to the south of me. There is a chill wind nipping at nose and face, ruffling leaves and branches. In Iceland they have in excess of 130 different words to describe the types of wind they have. In fact 112 of them have been used to create a sculpture by the artist Sólrún Halldórsdóttir. The overpowering roar of early morning traffic and far off rolling stock fills the air, even though it’s a good few miles away. The occasional passing red, green and flashing lights of planes. A morning call from a far off cockerel, what sounds like a blackbird, but nature is still yet to awake. Steam rising from morning coffee. I love the time of year that is approaching, that of winter. The opportunity to gaze at stars, the moon and sit and watch the morning manifest each day. For mid November it is still warm, though a wooly hat has been deployed. This is the third winter that I have sat here, since creating these campervan mornings, and watched days unfold and there really is something special about it. I mourn its loss when spring comes and it’s daylight already, but enjoy the returning warmth. Watching the sky this morning as it lightens, wispy cloud appears and stars start to diminish. At least it’s not raining. The Oak and the Ash begin to emerge from the darkness. It’s Friyay and for some of us the signal that is the end of the week. I dropped back into the book ‘Storyworthy’ yesterday and explored the process of creation and telling your story, I think possibly as a result of my drumming experience which has rekindled my urge for adventure and experience. It’s funny how just by nurturing yourself a little, how the ball starts to roll, how the desire returns, how the tension between inertia and activity, apathy and passion shifts. It’s funny that working in counselling and with clients you often find yourself working with their issues and also a sense of care for themselves. The bullshit we get fed about delayed gratification means we get hoodwinked into putting ourselves second, third, fourth or nowhere in the hope that our time will come. In fact it won’t come unless you let it. Often as a some one working in the field you forget to see that yourself, even when it’s staring you in the face. So a timely drumming reminder for my own passions, activity and adventure. So this morning it’s about passion, activity, adventure and of course 112 words for wind. Lovely days people.
“ I saw a tree dancing in the wind, and it said to me, ‘I’m not doing this to entertain you, but to remind you of what life is - a dance in the wind!” Michael Bassey Johnson.
Picture : Veðurhorfur by Sólrún Halldórsdóttir.
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