Random Thoughts
"Not that it matters, but most of this
is true."
Gods and Hurricanes
I am feeling vaguely
dissatisfied today. Restless perhaps. Those closest to me tell me I always
get this way at this time of year. And they are right. As soon as autumn
begins to taint the air it starts, and it will build until about the end
of October. I’ve no idea why. Migration instinct?
We had the most gloriously hot summer, but the real heat ended some 2-3
weeks ago. Now, even when the sun is shinning its strongest and the
thermometer says it’s warm, the air has an underlying coolness in it. Like
heat leaving a body in death. I will walk more; feeling that sense of
vague uneasiness grow stronger each day. And it matters not at all how
wonderful or blighted my life may be at the time, all will be swept away
in the pressure to….. ah, that’s the problem, I’ve never discovered what.
I just feel driven toward something.
There are times when I have chucked everything and headed off to start a
new life and left things in a tumbled heap behind me; anything to remove
the pressure and give release. I have left husbands at this time of year,
I have moved countless times, dropped careers, started new ones, started
to study new religions, emptied or repainted or decorated far too many
rooms - often tossing possessions away with complete abandon, or fought
hard not to do those things until it eases in a couple of months. When I
had horses, I rode; for hours and days on end, my work coming to a
standstill as I disappeared into the wild, my eyes roaming ahead of me,
reveling in the cool air, the dazzling sky, and the blazing death dance
happening around me. Always searching, watching, hungry for details and
textures and scents. Hunger? Yeah, that describes it as well as anything.
Perhaps it’s just that my birthday is in a couple of days and each one
reminds me of the things I haven’t done yet. On the other hand I was this
way as a child too, at least as far back as I can remember, so perhaps my
attempts to understand this and find logic in it are a waste of time.
Perhaps it’s just who I am. Pagans have told me the Gods are calling me to
some purpose of their own, that that sort of thing is strongest at this
time of year and will grow until Halloween, when the veil is thinnest. I
expect a psychiatrist would have a different explanation. The only thing I
have come to understand is that I am somewhat vulnerable at this time of
year to the pull of many things. I can, and have, made snap decisions that
have completely changed the course of my life. Forget throwing caution to
the wind, I am quite capable of shredding it into small pieces and placing
it determinedly in the path of an oncoming hurricane
That urge to shred is here today. I think I will go for a walk.
Some things never change
For all of us who like to imagine a time
when the world was a "better place" than today, more honest and simple,
think on this.... some centuries ago the Tower of London was used as an
animal menagerie. Enterprising individuals sold tickets each year to
city visitors to the Annual Washing of the Royal Lions celebration.
The date of this entertaining and much anticipated event? April 1st.
Glastonbury Tor
I just read a friend’s comment about
Glastonbury Tor. "I climbed it steep side first. I had my foot in a
tensor bandage for two weeks!" and it got me thinking about my own
introduction to the Tor. He’s more than a hill; he’s almost a sentient
presence over the land round about. Standing there looking up at him the
first time you suddenly understand the legends of Avalon, the mists of
mystery and tall tales that lie heaped around him like tumbled sheets.
And he has his moods!
The first time I tried climbing the Tor, I didn't quite make it to the
tower on top. There were wind warnings in London that morning; it was worse in the country. Gusty. Definitely gusty. But I didn’t think
anything of it. The Tor may be a romantic old lump, but heck, he’s not THAT
high. I remember being so happy I had the whole hill to myself and a
blue sky filled with glorious sunshine and great friendly clouds rushing
by overhead.
Solitude, mystery, great sweeps of English countryside at my feet, and a
life wish near completion. I was climbing Glastonbury Tor….what a grand
bloody day!
I had met one old fellow near the bottom; he'd remarked with a sweet
smile “A bit sharpish today,” nodded, and went on his way. The forth
time I was blown over and nearly off into the mists of history
surrounding this hill, I rethought that opinion. All opinions. It seems
the Tor is THAT high, and sharpish... sharpish? I came down part of the
Tor on my backside, scooting along like a dog on the living room carpet.
A bit sharpish? You might call it that.
But damn if I didn’t have the whole Tor to myself! Grand bloody day.
Ditches
This is just a note to say hello and let you all know that I've not
fallen into a ditch along the road.
As a child my mother always told me that I must never be late because
she'd worry I was lying in a ditch somewhere. I never knew how I was to
have gotten into the ditch, or why, or why lying in ditches was such a
great thing to be feared (I found ditches rather interesting for the most
part), but there it was, the one thing I must avoid at all costs. Ditches.
So my virtual friends, or people who are virtually friends, you may rest
at ease, I am not in a ditch. I knew you'd be glad to hear that.
