JANUARY – A Winter’s Mantle
There is a huge calm sky above on this January morn, as the low sun bathes the land with golden light, and with just a fret of wind, the rain had delayed its coming. With a diamond wink of the sun, my trusty companion Maverick and I head for the fields and woods once again. Cuthbert our friendly crow decides to join us on our little adventure, sweeping low in gentle flight. As we approach the woodland edge, Cuthbert suddenly drops like a stone, and begins to raid a large molehill known as a fortress, where the blind miner the mole, stores his rich bounty of grubs and worms. With Maverick’s observing eye and attentive ear, excitement entered everywhere, and made the day worthwhile.
In the wintertime, worms travel deep underground before the crisp meringue of freezing snow begins to bear on the surface of the land. The wise mole harvests his prey in autumn, cleaving many hundreds of worms in half, thus preventing their escape. Cuthbert being one of the wisest birds, can detect food in the mole’s larder, as special bristles above his beak enable him to locate food from afar. Suddenly, a cloud of starlings passes our way, for they too are closing in on the many molehills. They have been watching Cuthbert, as they are aware of his special talents for detecting food and join him in the bountiful feast. There is a relationship here, for as well as locating food he is also a wonderful scout for potential danger from predation. However, Cuthbert is not unique, for the mole himself has special pink highly sensitive nodules on his nose, enabling him to detect vibrations and the movement of both grubs and worms underground.
Each moment and whatever happens fills me with joy, as I experience both awe and wonder for these beautiful moments and positive thoughts that guide me to new heights, for life expands and embraces me. As I sit on a large boulder I settle amongst the gentleness and become part of it, I slow down my thoughts, my movements, and with laborious of pen I begin to document these magical moments where a sweet robin with his breast aflame settles close by.
The mood suddenly changes when a man approaches with a slow smile, side-eyeing me he asks why I bother to write in my journal? Regardless of the prevailing drift of discussion, when he speaks, he expresses an unedited first draft of his thoughts. “Boring stories” he bristles, “why bother”? But under blank eyes he didn’t see and yet speaks whatever blows into his mind. I could neither close the eye of his mind nor keep his tongue from speech. Although we all live under the same sky, we don’t all have the same horizons. I believe a mask may have engaged his mind. It would appear that beauty has been stolen and sold back to him under the concept of luxury. Having tried to allay his feelings he became awkwardly diffident, and my words were but wasted breath. As a bell now vibrates inside me, I shift my thoughts and leave this place. With a doleful cloak and negative murmurs, he too slowly ambles away.
With all I’ve seen, life can be filled with so much joy or plagued by haunting experiences, for neither anger nor resentment are worth the space they occupy in our hearts and minds, or the damage they do whilst there. I believe beauty is central to our emotional wellbeing, and the first principle of life. Everything it seems is so edited and broken up, there is no time to digest anything, or appreciate those magical little details. We must take delight in the beauty of all things, whilst sadly being aware of their impermanence, for such enchantments may be as fleetingly brief as an autumn butterfly. I realise that not everyone sees beauty, but if we were to look closely into the eyes of a horsefly, we would see a beautiful rainbow. As for myself, the thoughts of wild primroses, daffodils and spring lambs will keep me going throughout the rest of winter, and the joy of it will wipe troubled furrows from my brow.
