This morning didn’t start too promisingly. The day yawned into my consciousness, its morning breath tainted with the night’s dreams. I have the most bizarre dreams. On the radio the other day, some professor was explaining how our dreams reflect whichever culture we’re in. I don’t think she’d know what on Earth to make of my dreams.
Anyway, I faced the day with very little enthusiasm (we Welsh might say with little ‘hwyl’). However lovely your surroundings (and I certainly can’t complain about mine) when every day is much like another, life can seem tedious. I’m a fickle character so maybe it’s just me. I’m retired and ‘living the dream’; not the dreams that come for me in the night, thank goodness! That would signify that I’m delusional……..(hang on - maybe I am! Oooooer!) but I am easily bored.
However, the sun came up and called me out to play. Dogs and I headed out. (Yes, dogs plural - we have three, if you didn’t know already, and they’re one of the reasons why my life is a bit complicated……GARETH!!!) We were the first on the beach, white horses in the sea and a retreating tide leaving wet patches of sand shining like tinfoil. Better than a morning wash and teeth-clean, it refreshed me as a sunglasses-and-sandy-toes day reminded me that life is wonderful, even if only in little moments. Who was it who said (maybe it was my Dad) that life is one long period of tedium punctuated with moments of sheer terror? (He was full of lovely quips like that). Well it’s also true that life is punctuated with beautiful moments too.
My blog posts have become more and more infrequent even though I’ve got plenty of time these days to think about things. It’s a luxury being retired, as my son often reminds me, which is why I recently changed my ‘About’ description on Facebook to ‘living the dream at the beach’, instead of ‘learning how to live differently’. What I’ve learned is not much to blog about to be honest, though I’ve started writing on a number of occasions, feeling the need to document these strange times from my own little perspective.
For instance, reading some of Robert Macfarlane’s “Underland - a deep time journey”, sitting in the sun early one morning instead of switching on to The News, helped to settle me and move me to some thought-sharing. To be reminded, for instance, that simply to be alive at all is a miracle; to have come about as the result of a serendipitous meeting of one particular set of DNA molecules and another, all the way back to the beginnings of life itself.
Of course that feeling of it being a miracle to be alive when you’re subsisting in a city bombarded by Putin’s war machine is presumably a bit different. What can I know about that other than by imagining, and my imagination struggles to get a grip on such a scenario. In fact, having seen footage of what’s taking place in Ukraine I’m mostly struggling to switch off the visions.
And while it’s a far more trivial situation (I’m thinking of Boris and his parties, for instance) the way we are being governed these days seems to be so inept as to almost be comical.
And so, the challenge is how to “keep one’s head while all around are losing theirs” (Kipling, i.e, Rudyard Kipling, not the ‘exceedingly good’ cake-maker). I was taken to task recently for bringing a negative vibe to a happy family weekend get-together. I should have kept my fears for my grand-kids’ futures to myself, apparently.
In ‘Underland’ there is a section describing the work of a physicist in a deep underground lab patiently and interminably waiting for traces of particles from deep in the universe as they travel through the earth; so infinitesimally small that they don’t touch any other particles, except, perhaps, when they get deeper into the planet. That’s the theory anyway, but this physicist’s sense of awe about matter is infectious. Everything causes a scintillation, he tells Macfarlane. Nor is anything really ‘solid’. I was very moved by him saying that he’s “amazed to be able to hold the hand of the person I love”. Isn’t that lovely and romantic?
Who was it who said (or wrote) “Thou canst not disturb a flower without troubling a star”? Everything is connected, and so, I guess, it really matters what we think and do because it will cause a vibration or a scintillation like ripples on a pond. Rupert Sheldrake calls it ‘morphic resonance’.
‘Underland’ describes, as the title suggests, the world beneath our feet - natural cave complexes, catacombs, mining and service tunnels, underground rivers and the fungus world connecting trees in a forest. Cities can almost be seen as having a mirror image of themselves below ground, Paris and Odessa for instance.
I had no idea that it’s possible to navigate so much of that world but apparently there are many who make a career or hobby of it. I can’t say that such activity appeals to me, though the book is a fascinating read……with some scary bits. This morning, on the beach, I looked into some of the deep limestone fissures in the cliff, black pools snaking deep into the blackness and wondered where they might lead. I’m not tempted to venture inside, however. I prefer to live in the light.
The words light and dark are used in many ways: To shed light on a subject. A dark mood, Lightness of spirit, film noir, etc. Light also refers to weight as in ‘light as a feather’ whereby an object is more inclined to float above than thump to the ground. My astrological sign, Libra, is an air sign. Seems right to me given that I’ve often been accused of getting airborne or of having too many ‘airy-fairy’ ideas (not that I see them that way, of course).
See, this is how it goes, with me. Is it any wonder that I have bonkers dreams? Where am I going with all this? you might well ask. I guess it comes down to a question about what sanity is, at the end of the day. I guess I could be accused of having too much time to think. It’s what lockdown did to so many of us, didn’t it? Mental health has never been so much of an issue. But, let’s face it, there is an awful lot to think about. We’ve got used to living in Peace, affluence and comfort…..in the developed world, at least, and now it’s all under threat. Well, well, wouldn’t you know. It had to come apart some day, like that old, threadbare favourite pair of jeans, still being worn while pretending it’s a style statement. We’re all pretending that things are ok.
I’m still trying to live lightly as though the little things I do make a difference, like resisting the urge to get another car for gadding about in while Gareth is in work (he’s back with the National Trust and needs our car for the commute). Mind you, it would be an insanity to go back to having two cars in the current climate of fuel prices and rocketing inflation, whether I’m resisting to save the planet or not. (I can’t afford another car, anyway, so hey, ho…)
It’s funny, actually, if it didn’t unfortunately remind me of how insignificant my efforts to be minimal are, that this country has just had a major blow-out on our Queen’s Platinum Jubilee. In a nod to the Climate Emergency the light show used LEDs apparently and what a show; what an extravaganza! Lots of nice words were said with reminders to be kind to the planet, each other and our fellow creatures and the occasion glittered. Years ago I found a souvenir brochure of the Coronation lying in rubbish at the house my family were moving into. I was three and enjoyed looking at the pictures of a sparkly, bejewelled queen. I thought she was a fairy.
I did think about writing a blog post entitled ‘Platinum Platitudes’ but ran out of ideas. It would be a platitude to say simply that it was a very nice occasion, and she seems like a nice, dignified old lady who’s had to deal with some nasty family stuff. My Dad always urged us to have a ‘sense of occasion’ but I can’t think of much more to say about it….. Sorry. I hope you enjoyed a street party somewhere with that all important sense of community. I suppose it was a good excuse for one; heaven knows we need something to celebrate. But, we also need to mobilise against the dark forces of greed and corruption that are destroying the planet we inhabit. There isn’t another one.
So now you can see how the dark fissures in my mind gape at me, luring me to some depths that could swallow me whole. I shouldn’t lead you in either, I guess, so I’ll look for a light-hearted ending…………ummmm…….
Well, the sun is still shining at the moment and there is still bird song. The wind is swishing the long grass in the field behind me and there are the distant, comforting sounds of sheep and tractors; diligent farmers ensuring there will be food on tables. It is midsummer; the solstice just a couple of weeks off, so maybe I can be excused this bit of midsummer madness- my much-ado-about-nothing mind wandering, as I brace myself for tonight’s midsummer dream. Perhaps I’ll create a dream diary to share - it could be entertaining. Take care, folks, however many of you are still reading my blog, and stay sane.
