A bright full moon sits high in the west on a slow descent behind the ash this campervan morning. It’s slow movement is mesmerising. The sky appears clear, but it’s too dark to tell. There is a cold intermittent breeze shaking the trees and finding its way through every seam. Early morning Monday noise everywhere. I can hear a Magpie, but can’t see him, far off cockerel, a pair of passing gulls, smaller birds darting around. Five starlings atop the ash chattering away. The oak is finally empty of leaves after the last few days of gusts, gales and rain, which would have normally been done by mid November and yet here we are in January. I thought everywhere couldn’t get much wetter, but more rain yesterday exacerbated the already sodden earth. All prepped and ready to travel north later today for a few weeks in nature. Reflecting this morning, in fact over the last few days on ‘Red Lines’. Not lines that can not be crossed and should not be passed, but moments or events where life can never be the same again. Where you have been pushed over the line and there is no going back to how things were. Realisations, events, people, experiences or situations. Meeting some one who changes your life, the birth of a child, the passing of a friend, family member or parent. A change in understanding. I remember the passing of my brother and my dad and the red lines crossed and life would never be the same. The birth of my children and the life shifts and changes then. The meeting of people, mentors, teachers and friends and the shifts they have brought about. Discovering the work of Carl Rogers and my view of life utterly shifting and would never be the same again. There was no going back. So just pausing to recognise those lines this morning and perhaps more to come. Lovely days people.
“ Libraries are the thin red line between civilization and barbarism.” Neil Gaiman
Comments