We have such a beautiful home, this planet of ours, why can’t we share it and love our neighbours?
We have such a beautiful home, this planet of ours, why can’t we share it and love our neighbours?
It tells me, although I already know, that we really are all alone in this world. Alone and fighting our endless battles.
But if I close my eyes, I don't need words to remind me. I can still feel the warmth of the mid-May sunshine on my face and hear the polite applause as yet another stylish stroke guides the ball over the ropes for four more runs.
These are the times when I feel I should not be around people. No matter how good or inspirational or kind they may be. And these are also the times when my self-esteem sees only what it chooses to see and finds nothing but its own version of the truth.
There is an agenda, of course. There is always a reason, even if I don't yet know what it might be, don't yet understand. I suspect, and that is enough.
So I was delighted and maybe just a little bit proud to be involved once again at the weekend with another wonderful and uplifting display of support and awareness for this very important subject. As before, a group of football fans decided to walk the 12 miles between their respective teams home grounds before a match between their clubs in order to raise awareness in the media of the still frankly terrifying figures of male suicide in the UK.
And at times like this, I am grateful. Grateful that my place of work is located out in the countryside. And blessed that I am able to find birdsong, beauty and solitude on a deserted riverbank or a silent churchyard within minutes.
I quite like this photograph.
I took it at a recent gig.
And I thought, I really want to share it on my blog. But if I do, what will I write to go with it.
There is something about being around water that is clearly beneficial to so many of us. It is almost as if we sub-consciously give ourselves permission to relax and breathe again when we find ourselves beside a sandy beach, lake or river.
I walked this morning. For miles and hours. Along lanes, tracks and footpaths. Across fields and through woods. I saw the sun rise and gazed as the blue sky appeared over hedgerows and stone walls. I startled horses from their solitary feeding in fields of dew-wet grass and caused cows to stop and stare mid-chew as I watched them over the gate.
And to witness so many students out on the streets of London and across the UK last week in protest at climate change and the way in which generations before them have effectively destroyed their future was, well, a joy.
So I guess it is like taking a massive leap of faith whilst knowing you still have the safety net of obscurity lurking beneath you. Enough to challenge your boundaries but not sufficient to scare you back into the gloom of inaction.
However, at the risk of flippantly disregarding something of major significance to the future of the world, we have had over a week of beautiful and warm weather here in the South East and I wanted to recognise that fact.
We moved from social club to cafe to our final destination on the number 88A bus and met a raft of kindness and smiling faces.
A hero who admits to unimaginable moments of personal anguish and struggles to find normality after each visit. But a human who also talks of incredible exhilaration at the risks he takes and successes he achieves.
A flavour of spring in a winter landscape is sometimes all it takes to fill a heart and to raise a face towards the glorious sunshine.
Six miles of watching the skies, admiring houses we will never be able to afford and noticing people we don’t really want to meet. Time wasting yet strangely uplifting.
Some people show their kindness and inner beauty in a way that is as breathtaking as the most stunning view or the most idyllic of locations.
We are not all alike and whilst we may not want to be the same as many of the people we meet, it is good to acknowledge and accept our differences.