The slow downhill unwinding motion is coming to an end. For the last week I have been seeing friends, attended a wedding, seen Leonardo da Vinci’s paintings and James Yorkston at the Union Chapel.
James Yorkston is a modern folksy man. He tells stories that are funny because he tells them, and they happened to a man with a simple world view. One like your own but slightly squewiff. Musically one or two songs verge on perfect, the rest comfortable and easy, amongst the vaulted, illuminated roof of the Union Chapel sounds ricochet and the audience settle yummily into a folksy daze. The last few have been a cultural gift.
Now I need space. I need to feel my edges again. The last few months have been a riot of dynamic, shifting, articulating, moving and direction finding, relationship forming, vista opening and long-hard-road-to-realise-that walking and the new year promises more.
So I have given myself these weeks to shut off the entrepreneurial spirit and consistent entertainment and be nourished by walks and coffee, family and imagination. The mechanisms to reach and excite and move outwardly are still in full flow and collapsing back into them has a feeling of depression: an accumulated tension or reflex of so much continuous motion and decision making. Relaxing back into this is a welcome breakdown, but a breakdown it is and the psyche acts up at this miracle decline. Resisting the ease of breathing, of being unstimulated. Internet needs to be checked, though nothing is there. Friends need to be called, but the majority won’t come.
Being with my sister is good stability while this happens. The ease of her manner, her face and comfort make it a good time to be in London, sun on solstice day and the warm arms of friends and close family make this my best trip yet to the grey, horrendous city.
Then it’s Christmas in Somerset with the family and after they leave I’ll be spending 5 days in isolation amongst hills. No internet or people, only chickens to feed and myself to take care of. I have Ovid’s Metamorphoses and a backlog of writing to do and will spend New Year’s Eve in the garden, sending out prayers for the year 2012.
(and for the clever, my 2012 post is pre-written, look forward to your reactions on that)
Peace and goodwill,