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Writer's pictureRay Watters

Unlistened Treasures.

After yesterday’s beautiful day, I wasn’t expecting rain this campervan morning, but nevertheless here it is. To quote Forest Gump it’s “Big old fat rain “. Only spots of it, but they are big old droplets and it feels like more to come. The sky is quite bright, a solid bank of light white cloud, darkening as I write. There is an August warmth to the morning, contrary to yesterdays chill. The resident murder of crows, which numbers around 20, who patrol the area from time to time appear to have settled around here for a while and flit between trees, rooftops and chimney pot, the air filled occasionally with their flight, calls and conversation. I can make out a Robin in the background, giving out a warning call again, there must be a predator around somewhere. I have written before, but I find crows quite endearing and they are often my morning companions, although up to a few days ago I was for a while bereft of birds of any description, but they appear to be drifting back. Crows have a mystique and their stories permeate folklore, myth and legend. Omens of good and bad, the shape of warriors, the passing of messages and carrying the souls of the dead to their resting place to name but a few. For a Friday it’s a quiet morning and the weekend is now within touching distance. The light is darkening a portent of the change in the up and coming weather. Reflecting on a comment made by a dear friend yesterday around the path choosing you. It has sat with me since reading it and I have been contemplating it since. At college I was regarded as a good listener ( Amongst a few perhaps more unsavoury, but nevertheless typical characteristics of a teenage college student ). Friends would pop over or grab me for a chat, talk things over, unburden themselves, sometimes over a tea or coffee and other times over beer and wine. Various conversations would end in laughter and thank yous and comments around listening and I should do something with that skill. It took pretty much 25 years to get here. John O’Donohue wrote :


“ So at the end of this day, we give thanks. For being betrothed to the unknown.”

I find myself now as a counsellor, drummer, drum circle facilitator, listening to people. I know I made a few decisions along the way to get here, but the path was already there and calling it just waited for me arrive. And here come the rain. Lovely days people


“ I have been finding treasures in places I did not want to search. I have been hearing wisdom from tongues I did not want to listen. I have been finding beauty where I did not want to look. And I have learned so much from journeys I did not want to take. “ Suzy Kassem.



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