Darker than it has been for a while this campervan morning, almost cementing the shift in seasons. Though it is ridiculously warm for the turn towards the end of September. Darkness obscuring the cloud, so not quite discernible as yet, but by the weather easy to guess. Light rain on the air and the threatened strong winds are here. The soundtrack this morning is loud creaking branches and rustling leaves, duly made all the louder by sitting beneath the oak. An occasional bird call just discernible above the creaks and protests of the trees. The light rain whipped to a wee frenzy by the strong breeze catches my face and legs. It’s a bit of a morning, the coffee however is welcome, as always. As time edges further on, the light slowly appearing, reflects the morning cloud, dull, grey and heavy. Pulling together thoughts and work for an up and coming presentation for a conference this morning sees me considering journeys, transitions, witnessing, presence and being the catalyst for change on a macro and micro level, as I try and sit this morning.
My thought process has been stuck for the last few weeks and this morning they started to flow. Not the most ideal and pretty distracting. So trying to place them in a box for later and meanwhile be present for the storm growing around me. As I sit, the rain momentarily begins to pour and as I consider moving to the van it stops as quickly as it started. Van Gogh talks of there being peace in the midst of a storm and as I sit that’s kinda where I am at. There is part of me that wants to rush to the sea to witness the coming together of water and strong winds, another part of me that wants to sit and be and another that wants to get on and work. Amidst all of this here I sit witnessing it all. Stay safe everyone looks like it could be an interesting day. Lovely days people.
“ The roar of the gale rose and fell, Tempest's tongue agitated potently, Leaves surrendered in droves to it, Sleep deepened in the storm's fury.”
The Taranis Cèilidh by Stewart Stafford.
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