Good Morning World It was time. Jackie rolled gracelessly out of bed, padded the short distance between bed and window and poked her head through the curtains. Just her head mind, nothing more, she had slept naked because of the hot flushes, but she was no exhibitionist. ‘Good morning world, you bastard! ’ The greeting was spoken with feeling, not too loudly because of the neighbours, but with a very satisfying emphasis on the last two words. Jackie smiled and removed her head from the swathes of blue cotton fabric. This had become her new normal, the way she set herself up for the day. She had tried other morning routines, like stretches and mindfulness and the ‘morning pages’ recommended by her time-rich friends, but nothing worked nearly so well as this short defiant salutation. With five simple words she was able to welcome the day, acknowledge that it was likely to be shit, and then tell it to do one - she was ready for it. A shower and a bowl of cereal later, and clothed ...
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Finding Peace The tide is out. The river bed is drained, exhausted, clogged with mud. Steep wooded banks encase the valley in gloom all the way to the vanishing point - and likely beyond. I let my eyes wander. Am I allowed to do that now? Can I make such decisions? It seems so. They drift to the small craft lying beached and useless in the sludge, waiting impatiently for the waters that will free them. Hesitantly, guiltily, shamefully, my eyes shift again – to a fine stream, unnoticed before. It’s no more than a trickle, but it’s winding its way through the dirt of the river bed towards me. The tide must have turned. Soon the little boats will have their liberty and I try to imagine where it might take them, seemingly too cowardly for the ocean but maybe, maybe, braver than they look. And now, through tears, I see the faintest glow in the clouds above the banks, really quite beautiful, caressing and illuminating the tangled weeds of the foreshore. This landscape is s...