The fields of barley around us are being harvested. I love watching the harvesters. There’s a sanctity to their work. It was fields like these that inspired Sting’s beautiful song, “Fields of Gold.”
Yesterday, I was standing in our backyard watching the sun going down, when suddenly in the stillness, two birds started calling out to each other. The rolls and chirps and melodious song were beautiful. They echoed under the red and expansive sky. Communication was going on, something beyond my comprehension, yet recognisable to a part of me that in itself is a mystery. A thin veil had been lifted and I was staring into a reality, both mystical and ethereal.
We were hiking along the River Darent in Kent, between Horton Kirby and Farningham, when we came across this field beautifully carpeted with Buttercups, Dandelions, Daisies and a few spots of Red Campion. We just had to stop, have lunch and ponder this captivating little scene.
My wish is to stay always like this, living quietly in a corner of nature.
Light shines through, shadows give way, but it’s the door, the door that must also be opened.
“Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.” Rumi
I’m discovering that this little phrase, “being drawn by” has a profound sense of freedom about it. It seems to me that as you practice it the exertion in life is eased and is slowly replaced by a natural kind of attraction and a “movement towards.” And so, the ethic I try to follow has much to do with, in Rumi’s words, feeling the strange pull of what I really love.