#3. The Distant Goodnight. Final Visit Where Sunbeams Affectionately Brush-Kiss the Sea.
Carrying on to this 3rd and final Journal Reflection in these ‘Change or Familiarity’ skits. Intentions are to write down all three. This one is a long and flowery bit of word salad gone awry. But I know what I mean. And more importantly? I know what it means to me. Thank you.
The fields out front of the house. They are apt in their permanence presence and link to life’s joys and experiences. Familiarity and comfort in seasonal presentations and recurrence. An open, sun filled area of fields with timetabled green growth following year on year beginning with plowed earth to followed shoots of a variety of crops growth. The countryside picture of green fields, blue sky, red tractors, white clouds and snow. Similar hues again and again, year after year of remembered constant changing images.
Pure enveloping sunburst white settling slowly to an eventual beautiful and haunting sundown to sunset variety of subtle shade differences in the mustards, blacks, greys, oranges and reds that gently float in or viciously slash at the sky. Sometimes the flickering dance light over rain filled grass in suspected faerie presence moments. The ghost-like shade colours from pale grey to inky black of dusk bringing an undercurrent of unsettling mystical depth. All opposite our house in the storytelling nature of ongoing developments born from sunrise to sunset, spring to winter, The clean clarity of nature’s openness in presentation of everything. Then changes and brings in shadows which hide unknown entities that you imagine snuffle around, into and over the red to brown hues of soft sweet smelling earth. Familiarity in the changes. Knowing, yet not always understanding, it’s Mother Nature’s name of Constance. Constance gives the gift of shared contentment between yourself and Herself.
Closer to home. Invasive creeping ivy growing up the telephone pole. Ivy that needs to be eventually cut off at root source to stop it’s tenacity to overwhelm in it’s intended need for destruction of the said telegraph pole. To subsequently reach and strangle the wires, which would therefore cut off the information source of broadband which enriches our lives. Issues like invasive ivy need to be cruelly, but reluctantly, cut out of your life, shoved aside and disregarded.
The beautiful beech tree, initially loved and admired, that got taller by the year, but in doing so blotted out the Aberdovey bay and sea in the distance view. So, imagination used to envisage a calm sea settling into it’s nighttime rest with the slowly disappearing sunbeams saying goodbye by touch glancing affectionately off the water after finding gaps in the clouds. The beech tree had its own purpose and dynamic to reach onwards both outwards and upwards. It wasn’t bothered about inhibiting your joy in outlook. It had it’s own purpose and a ‘stuff you’ attitude. But it did provide the bees with sticky leaf nectar to eventually realise honey. Look for positivity in all things. But also the beech provided both myself and my wife with anxieties when strong winds blew. “If it goes over! It may kill someone!” So, it had to be taken down. Shallow roots and lots of people and cars that frequented the road in front of the house do not make a healthy relationship. .
You see? Worries circling even in sought tranquility. Everything has purpose I suppose. A plethora of Valerian plants, pink in splendour, but which clutter the garden, destroy other plant life and the eventual need to weed out their invasive roots because they’ve got too big for their boots. They destroy our stone built walls. Widen the cracks and push apart the closeness and the knitted strengths of the bricks, stones and mortar. Resulting in…..Fragmentation and chaos. Just because it’s what they do. Pull them out or hit them with weed killer? They die…..and the result? They stink. A smell of rot that lingers. Montbretia bulbs underneath the earth. Shallow earth deep presence, but in their thousands now. Invasion in July/August that orange and green overwhelms. Rather like the carpets of bluebells that’s multiply year on year. Control needed to allow other plant varieties to grow.
The stags and trees decorated metal fire pit that can provide warmth and comfort in its crackling activity and heart repairing flame-light dance. A simple match struck and applied to the fragility that is paper, added broken small Beech branch kindling starters, to small Rose, Damson and Lilac midway branches and eventual fierce and warming Damson, Apple and Ash logs to give an eventual crackling glow of heat. Giving the gift of comforting warmth to survive the future awaiting and oncoming night chills. But……which isn’t lit whilst I sit on certain nights due to the fact that I am alone. I could light it and give comfort to myself. But, I want to save log supplies so others can share the experience. Be present alongside the fire’s aromatic healing nature.
These visuals are comparisons in my minds eye to occurrences in my life. Personal Parallels. Experiences in the past where I thought “If I were to reluctantly cut that person/ivy out my life…..it couldn’t cause harm. If I had kept an eye on that tree/person over the years, it wouldn’t have blighted and negatively influenced my pleasure in seeing the beauty out there beyond. Nor rocked my psyche when harsh winds blew. Not stifled my abilities and ambitions in seeking higher realisations”.
Those people present throughout life who were both strange and influential have gone now. No longer involved in my life. But leaving such profound impacts that they changed me oh so much. Sometimes damaged. Sometimes the better for being damaged. That kind of analogy? Weird analogy actually. They are no longer influencing. But still influence.
Considerations in the three Change or Familiarity subjects for future writing down in The Journal entries.
Would it benefit if I considered ‘Should I go back to pipe filled with honeyed sweet herbal tobacco and deep rich aromatic red wine?’ Staple relaxation tools. Booze and Baccy. Dangerous or comforting? At the moment I actually don’t care. Red wine and tobacco sooth the nerve jangles. After Covid and the still present sequelae of sleeplessness and immense fatigue. It may assist the holistic needs of helping psychologically. Or it may compromise the healing too. So maybe I should actually care. And consider more deeply.
It’s not that Booze and Baccy is addictive to a person who possesses a non-addictive genetic makeup. And! I do have a non addictive nature. At present it is the small answers that provide the ability to survive. The larger answers can wait. My own intended holistic prescriptions are getting back to days, weekends or weeks where visitors call. Small, perfect needful conversational exchanges and being ‘out there’ enjoying the outdoors’ occurrences to get through the chaos of both historical isolations and the very recent life’s change in retirement. Retirement can be a lonely experience. However it can also be sublime. Retirement provides opportunities to realise that both extra relaxation time exists and also allows the active participation of self seeking out new adventures.
What wins this time?
Familiarity or Change?
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