About a million jackdaws flying across the fields to roost in the tall trees below the chapel, in the twilight. They come in waves, in loose, tattered groups, the opposite of synchronised, making the loud harsh cries of the corvid family. They come and they come and they come, as I stand staring up at the sky above my head, and I begin to think they will come forever, almost to believe this, then slowly the groups grow smaller, then a last few stragglers, and that's it, the sky now empty. Their cacophony rises and mingles with the sound of the church bells from the other side of the valley.
Tuesday, 30 August 2016
Sunday, 28 August 2016
Shaken
I am here and four months have passed. The bilberries are coming to an end and soon the blackberries will be ripe. I look forward to September's sense of new beginning. I have moved my work to the large, sunny practice room in town. I have created a space in which I feel at ease, and so can my clients. The process of 'leaving home' with my work has stirred my depths, with memories of another 'leaving home' surfacing and demanding to be remembered, felt, understood. 1978, when my parents separated and I left the house where I'd grown up, the town, the school, and my father. It's been a process that has shaken me to the core, and I've survived once again. Ready to love and forgive myself everything I thought was somehow my fault. More growth, more change. On we go.
Hello again.
Hello again.
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