Sometimes the path is just too straight and predictable, and the goal too clear. We need the surprises of twists and turns and the mysteries of hills and valleys.
Standing in front of Chartwell, Winston Churchill’s home, and looking across the Kent landscape towards the Southern coastal region of England. One of those moments where I was once again overwhelmed by the beauty and expansiveness of the scene before me. I was reminded of the words of Carl Sagan: “For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love.”
The world between close friends takes on a life of its own. It’s a world where speech is often not needed and where nothing really has to be proved. Assumption and intuition flourish without sanction, and trust is never mentioned. A “knowing” permeates this special world.
In the English landscape, you often see a single, sizable and old tree standing in a flat and expansive landscape. Although it has the look of loneliness about it, it’s locational rootedness is a positive affirmation of its presence and its right to be there. It makes no apologies for its presence.
Whenever I see such a tree, it affirms in me “my right to be here” and I live and move through this beautiful world without any apology for my presence.
This morning’s walk:
The soft morning sunlight has this unassuming power to gladden the heart of things and to call them forth into the confidence of a new day. It’s not a glaring light shaking us into forceful wakefulness, but a gentle one, introducing and revealing the day with poise and with grace.
The still and mirror-like surface of the lake was suddenly broken by the rising of a large fish, its fins dripping droplets of orange in the light of the setting sun. A sublime moment of disclosure, an epiphany, then disappearing beneath its watery world as quickly as it arrived.
I was reminded of the many thoughts, ideas and risings that have broken the surfaces of my life, and my responses to them – those that were acknowledged and actualised, and those that were simply left to sink below the surface again?
To live deliberately is a good thing. Goal-setting and to-do lists etc., certainly get things done. But to be overly deliberate in our living is limiting. It becomes exhausting. Everything has to be gruellingly willed into existence, and the inevitable price we pay is a form of tunnel vision and a loss in natural spontaneity and creativity.