The Hills

(A composite blog 11 Nov to 13 Nov)

Wednesday had ended in a collapse. During the day I had worked on half a dozen “projects” – tasks which involved others, but which I had elected to do. I would progress one, then skip to another; then an idea occurred taking me back to the first … and so on for hours seated in front of the computer in an unheated room (carbon saving is another project);  finishing up numb in body and mind. It was then time for my Taiji/chigung class, requiring a cycle ride in the dark and rain to catch the train to Romsey then a further walk …

So there I was standing in the middle of the hall surrounded by waterproofs, reflective vest, helmet, water bottle, taiji fan, book for the train, rucksack .. saying “there’s no point in going; my teacher isn’t up to scratch; I’m no good at it; I get nothing out of it …” etc for over 5 minutes. Until, from somewhere, it was suddenly “Just grab the bike and GO!” That voice was the start of recovery.

It’s not just a matter of organisation. I’ve been doing that, with lists that get longer and longer, spawning sub-lists and sub-sub-list, then switching to minimal lists, with time slots, then roving time slots, alternating physical and mental, with automated timers, with spontaneous decisions … But now there came a new thought. My projects had been charging round my brain like frightened rabbits, and after the taiji they kept me awake half the night. Then I realised  the nonsensical nature of my being controlled by my projects; for “me” and “my projects” are not separate combative entities: that they are things at all is an illusion thrown up by my own imballance.  

Thursday 12th Nov

I did what always helps for me: I walked, allowing the land, the plants and the animals to speak to me; from Nursling to Romsey; recalling as I went -

“I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help. My help cometh even from the Lord, who hath made heaven and earth.”  (Psalm 121, vv 1,2) and

“In his hand are all the corners of the earth, and the strength of the hills is his also.” (Psalm 95, v. 4)

Half way through this walk, which is over a very flat flood-plain, I saw “the hills” to my right, beyond the river, reminding me of many other hills in the past through which help had come. This time, no great saying of revelation arrived. This time what I sought, I now realised, was not words; it needed to be a matter of being, not of thinking. Something had now lodged in my body that could make a difference.

In the afternoon I slept for over an hour. Outlandish!

Friday13th Nov.

This new spark is going to need tending, practice. The rabbits are scuttling back. I waste time chasing them, get late for a planned trip to London, and miss the train. So, I can enjoy a slow and really quite good cafe latte, doing nothing, in the station cafe. Ahh!

At the library that I was visiting in London, all the books I needed were in various special collections and so needed fetching, except that no books were fetched on Fridays.

This is a blessing: I have an opportunity to walk along the Thames (always exciting), obliged to stay well in my body so as not to be strained by the fairly heavy pack on my back, and then to spend this extra time provided by the library’s excentric regulations in sitting in The Tate Modern gallery, with its leather sofas and stunning view of St Paul’s cathedral, enjoying writing this blog. That “something” which had lodged in my body got stronger.