I enjoy walking through the woods. Whenever an opportunity to do so presents itself, I welcome it. There’s something so idyllic and peaceful about it. However, there’s also something a little strange about it. Many spaces in the woods have a wonderfully welcoming atmosphere about them, and lingering in them can be so uplifting and energising; but, there are also spaces that feel decidedly uncomfortable, disconcerting, even a little malevolent, and the feeling to get away is intense. Strange, I’ve never been able to understand this contradiction. It’s a mystery to me, and I’ve come to accept it like that – even been in awe of it at times.
Standing alone on Bluebell hill, I watched the clouds go by, their shadows like smudges of ink gliding across the countryside. A thought came to mind – do these shadows at some mysterious level leave behind their tracks in the landscape, or do they simply, without a trace, dissolve with their twin in the sky?
I’m not one for certainties, though I’m sure they have their place. Now that may sound a bit wishy-washy and anaemic, but they do have this tendency to shut doors and close down thought and discussion. I lean more to the side of that gracious invitation to look beyond the prisons of certainty, into the wide-open spaces of mystery and endless possibility. So, when it comes to certainties in life, I prefer to hold them in an open hand and bid them goodbye when they need to go.