Posts tagged with "home"

My cat the philosopher

“When the world seems a confusing and unfriendly place, try lying in the sun with your legs in the air, as sometimes the world just looks better that way.”

I’ve been four months in hibernation.  While I loved the snowy white tranquillity of November and December, the dismal grey of January and February seemed depressingly relentless.  But today is the day when the sun finally rose high enough to make it over the roof of the house opposite and shine into our living room.

The cat is indeed lying in the sun with her legs in the air, personally I’ll just settle for lying in the sun.

It’s been over a month since our second residential workshop, this time in Glen Prosen.  Not only was it a totally different landscape it was also a totally different experience.  Somehow it felt more raw, more real and closer to the bone.  That’s why I’ve really struggled to blog since I got back.  The experiences of Glen Prosen, especially the solo, are just so much more personal and powerful; I’ve needed a lot of time to process it but I still can’t really put it into words. 

After the workshop I felt emotionally tired but also, in a strange way, lighter.  Getting home was so stressful as I seemed to be very sensitive to all the areas of neglect that had crept into my life – the little bits of unfinished paintwork, the late celebration of important dates, the loft insulation that was not all it should be, all the things I mean to do but haven’t quite gotten round to; simultaneously annoying, depressing and upsetting.

But now the sun has come back I feel that I’m moving again, able to start things and get things done…

Posted: March 5, 2011 | Author: Morag Watson | Comments: Add 

Solo Time #1b – Animal Husbandry

Only in the last moment of human history has the delusion arisen that people can flourish apart from the rest of the living world.

Edward Osborn Wilson

-

-

Animal Husbandry

-

I found the body as I walked up the track behind Katy’s cottage.

Rigor mortis, eyes wide, mouth gaping, blue tongue lolling.

The attitude seeming to say that the final moments before death were given to a last painful gasp for life.

-

Further on another ewe lay dead in the empty field.

I didn’t examine the carcass but it’s vivid paint mark was to suggest it was the same flock.

A third, a fourth the same, blue marked, in the profound stillness of death.

What epidemic of dis-ease or carelessness is this?

-

I think of you now as dusk comes, locking the henhouse, feeding the cats, guiding the geese safely home, your diligent and loving animal husbandry.

-

A lone ewe, startled, darts across this field of the dead.

Her torn fleece hangs from her back.

She stops and turns.

Her stillness is that of fear.

She fixes me reproachfully with her eyes.

I cannot help.

I walk on.

-

Posted: February 19, 2011 | Author: Deborah Richardson-Webb | Comments: Add 

Signs, portents….and hedgehogs

Knoydart is a week in the past and already it feels slightly unreal.  The hideous cold that mugged me on the journey home has finally gone but the email backlog remains.  

But Knoydart hasn’t really left me; I’m thinking about things a bit more, wonder about the significance of things a bit more and exploring what’s in my head a little more often. 

In our final sessions in Knoydart we talked about making meaning out of the things we see and experience.  Dave had said that may people who do workshops like this experience strange things when they get home.  I smiled wryly and thought “yeh, some people”. 

Then I opened the front door and found the hedgehog on my doorstep.  I live in suburbia, surrounded by concrete and tarmac.  Around here hedgehogs are sad, flat things you see on the dual carriageway that leads out of town; they don’t usually knock at the door.  It’s also pretty clear that my unexpected guest is in trouble; wobbling around in circles, much smaller than he should be at this time of year.  I think, “Mother Nature knows best, don’t interfere, leave it alone”.  That particular thought lasts a nanosecond before it is booted out by the thought, “aye right, if humans hadn’t tarmaced over nature, that hedgehog would be fat and hibernating by now”. 

So a cardboard box, sawdust and shredded newspaper have been assembled.  Kitchen scales have been sheepishly borrowed from a neighbor to confirm our guest is less then the 650g needed to survive hibernation.  And the cat is sulking as her meaty chunks and crunchies are offered to the interloper.

Two days later I’ve reverted to being ten years old.  I know I should respect him as a fellow living thing, but damn, being cute is an effective survival strategy!  ‘Mr Prickles’ as he’s now known, is no longer hypothermic and he’s putting on weight, but sadly he can’t stay.  Our house isn’t really suitable for long term hedgehog care so I’ve sponsored a hedgehog pen at the SSPCA wildlife rescue centre and they will be collecting him tomorrow.

 I resist the urge to wave as the blue van drives off but I ‘m left wondering, what does this all mean?

Posted: October 20, 2010 | Author: Morag Watson | Comments: Add 

reflections

The next day was a completely different experience.  Having spent the day alone and fasting from dawn to dusk (with none of the great veggie food supplied by Rob or any carrot cake) we spent the majority of the day in the tenttipi telling our stories.  After each story anyone who wanted to could make a comment on what they had heard – “I heard a story about………”.  It was great to hear what each person thought of the stories they heard.

We’re all on a journey, everyone starting from a different place and everyone going somewhere.  Will we all end up in the same place?

The journey home – travelling back to life away from the wilderness.  Having spent the week getting to know everyone in an amazing environment, all of a sudden we are heading home to the cities, roads, hustle and bustle and people all travelling to and fro and going on their journeys to somewhere new.  What new things will we see and do and what will happen next on our journey of change?

Posted: October 19, 2010 | Author: Alastair Milloy | Comments: Add