Much like most mornings over the past few months, I arose at
4am and proceeded to go through the routine I have more or less become
accustomed to, i.e. I drank a pint of water, I cleared my head by writing in my
journal (sometimes I work on poems or songs) and then ate breakfast whilst
watching a TED talk.
Today’s was
entitled, “The Power of Introverts” by Susan Cain and the thing that resonated
most with me was when she said about going into the wilderness to think, and be
absorbed in our own solitude. This made
absolute sense this morning as I’d been struggling to garner my thoughts for
how I wanted to tackle 2017 and in turn, how I could represent everything that
is important to me visually.
So I decided to
brew a powerful flask of coffee, roll some cigarettes and set off into the
pitch black of 6.20am and head towards The Cut; this is my favourite place in
the world as it’s where my Grandfather and I used to walk his dogs.
The town where I
live was in complete silence; there was no traffic or people or any sort of
sign that revellers were still saying their farewells to the previous
year. It took around 20 or so minutes to
clear the edge of civilisation and then after a further 10 minutes of walking,
I was enclosed by darkness.
Soon the pavement
disappeared so with little choice, I switched on the torch app on my phone and
started walking along the road towards the woods. Upon reflection, this was pretty dangerous
and it’s not something I’d recommend however, luckily, a stranger stopped in
his car with his two dogs and gave me a lift the rest of the way. Again, probably not something I’d recommend
but today felt different so I accepted his kind offer and was soon at the
entrance of The Cut.
The stars were as
bright as I’d ever seen them but even their light could not cut through what
felt like infinite blackness. I have to
admit, there was a deep sense of apprehension about heading completely blind
into a dark forest with absolutely no way to defend myself should anything happen. But again, today felt different so I began to
take to the first of many tentative steps.
I awoke many
creatures as I plodded my way down the path that I have walked my entire life
and I was frightened. Every few steps
saw me stop and almost turn back…even with the torch back on, it did nothing
but aluminate a foot ahead of me; the countless inquisitive eyes that were
undoubtedly surveying me remained well hidden behind the woodland shadows.
Then my phone
died, and with it, my only light.
Luckily, I had
reached an open space in the woods. When
I was a small boy, it would be this very spot that my Grandfather would stop
and point out whatever wildlife was there to see. On a clear day, you can see all the way to
Edinburgh; this morning was the same, however it was only a spattering of
blinking lights that were on display.
Again fear crept
in, but with it came the realisation that there was nothing I could do, for the
road that leads to the main route home was just too dark and dangerous to walk,
and the chances of me causing an accident were too great.
So I stood
still. I listened to the forest
stirring. I overlooked the veils of mist
hanging softly above the fields before me and waited for the winter sun to
rise.
I think this morning
was the first time I’ve ever truly listened to anything. There were no thoughts battering around in my
head, there were no modern distractions; there was only silence being disturbed
by the odd groan of a tree, or the hoot of an owl, or the call of a grouse or
pheasant or some sort of game bird. From
going from complete fear to a final acceptance of being completely at one with
myself and my surroundings is an experience I don’t think I’m ever likely to
forget.
Before too long –
although I must have stood there for a good 45 minutes – the greys and blacks
of early morning gave way to streaks of blue and the path was once again shown
to me; this time though, I took my time for there was no apprehension; I
savoured each step as I retraced the route we would walk together.
I reached the old
watchtower and there is absolutely no doubt in my mind, I could feel his
presence…I heard the call of a buzzard – something we always stopped to listen
for – and then after that, I wasn’t standing alone anymore.
So we stood
before the swaying silhouettes and watched as the sky was cut with ambers and
ruby-gold and it was the most inspiring and peaceful sight I have ever seen.
At one point I
turned and I thought I saw him looking up to the sky, but I may have only been
seeing what I wanted to see; wiping my eyes, I decided that it was time to head
home; I had found the imagery and hope I had been looking for.
I took the final
path that would lead back to the one I had started on but it couldn’t be walked. Over the years it had changed so much that it
was near impossible to find any sort of traction on its muddy slopes, so I had
to cut my own one back; I guess some paths, no matter how you remember them,
just aren’t made for you anymore and with sensible footing and a few brave
gambles though, you will find a new one suitable for your journey.
Either way, I was
heading home through a morning now bathed in the clearest light my eyes had
ever received and it was beyond mind blowing.
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