Hints of orange in the campervan morning sky. An infectious glow that colours the cloudy sky. Even the trees are giving off a colour rather than the dreary greys of late. There is a wee chill in the air, but nothing really to write about, the ground dry underfoot. The morning commute is underway, but quieter than usual. In fact the motorway rumble can barely be heard. The Magpies are out, Crows call and smaller birds carry the high end. It really is a bright, naturally noisey morning. Feeling my age this morning, a few intense days of drumming, loading in and out and lifting and carrying has let me know the aging process. I would recommend that you subscribe to Maria Popova’s weekly blog called ‘The Marginalian’. It is always an excellent read and great for sign posting and a rich source of material. She writes this week of the art of growing older and quotes Peabody, De Beauvoir and Ursula K. le Guin who wrote :
“ Beauty doesn’t come free with the hormones, the way it does for the young… It has to do with who the person is.”
I have been pondering the scraping away of layers of late and the beauty that lies beneath and the truth of who a person is, or perhaps I should own it and who I am. The curse of the navel gazing counsellor. Working with other people and getting them to scrape away their layers and find their inner beauty and who they really are. It’s an interesting journey. Lovely days people.
“ I was cursed or blessed with a prolonged adolescence; I arrived at some seeming maturity when I was past thirty. It was only in my forties that I really began to feel young. By then I was ready for it. (Picasso once said: “One starts to get young at the age of sixty, and then it’s too late.”) By this time I had lost many illusions, but fortunately not my enthusiasm, nor the joy of living, nor my unquenchable curiosity.”
Henry Miller.
Comments