Yet another wild and blustery day. It's been a cold spring and summery in general here, with periodic wind storms that have brought down garden structures — this year our rose arch, and last year in similar weather patterns, our bean frames heavy with plants. Where I grew the beans last year I've gone over to low-growing plants because the wind funnels up from the sea through the gap between our home and our neighbour's, in that part of the garden — exacerbated by our other neighbour's insistence on cutting down the old ash tree that shields us from the wind; he likes maximum sun on his patch. Every time it grows back he cuts it down again. I think he must be one of those people who hate and fear trees, a phobia I don't really understand. Anyway, our garden is that much less protected from the wind since then, and we know the violent weathers will increase with climate change.
Deep in my heart I know that "All shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well" — I know it for sure and my spirit witnesses to it and I hear it repeated on the spiritual currents of life all the time. But I do also know that the path of life passes through the cross, and sometimes it is one's own turn to be nailed to it, and that leaves in my soul a cold shadow of fear, for myself and for the people I love. Ageing and autistic burnout have left me less resilient, less able to care for others, more dependent on the reassurance and rhythm of quiet routine, the peace of familiarity and tradition. But all around the world, including in my own country, greedy nihilists have obtained power, and in these days when we have reached the ecological tipping point, I think that cannot bode well. We may be here only to help each other die. But if that is so, even still I hope we may do it with humility, compassion and grace. The times we live in are our calling and God's strange gift. We must weave them into a bag to carry hope, strong enough to bear the weight of peace. It is a serious responsibility, that rests entirely on our personal daily choices. There is no point in looking to government; heavens, we can see what they're like.
I was surprised by the two things I wanted to part with today. One is tiny and the other hardly counts as a thing, but let me show you.
Someone in our household passed on to my this little perfume roller. I like it, the perfume is nice, but in my cosmetics bag every single day its presence hinders me in finding my blusher brush which has similar colour, length and feel. This has begun to annoy me, so I am finishing up the little bottle with speed and determination so I can get it out of my bag and into the recycling.
And then for the last goodness knows how long I have been using these two stacked raspberry packaging boxes to hold my main bathroom things — dental hygiene stuff, leg cream, shampoo bar, etc — and today I decided I find the container so objectionably hideous I'd rather do without one at all than keep it.
So that's gone out to the recycling, its natural home.
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