Writing practice today comes to you from one of our local pubs. It is one of the hottest days this year and we humans are already out in celebratory force intercepting sought after seats in beer gardens and cafes across London.
It looks like this weather took us all by surprise. Although why is a mystery as heatwaves often happen at this time of year, two or three melting hot days poking up out of the usual grey, dank and misty April. But here we are caught off guard in some collective pessimistic optimism that it couldn’t really get that warm already? I mean my summer clothes are still vacuum sealed on top of the wardrobe. They thought they would have a least another month of hibernation.
We are of course acting on instinct. hurrying and desperate to enjoy the reprieve. But this is not a bad thing. This is the intrinsic rhythm to life. The hub and bub, bustle and buzz of bar staff jostling their potions, of early after work city folk clinking and twittering, the lightness of hearts, the sense of relief mixed with release, the connections clicking together maybe for just a moment but more often, this is the moment of life.
Hold your hand to the trunk of a tree and you’ll feel it, the sap gushing through, rushing to the rapidly budding leaves. Plant your bare foot on the grass and you can watch innumerable insects swirling around beneath you. Look to the skies and see the joyful swoops of birds thankful to return. It’s all the same. It’s renewal, it’s re-energising, re-cycling life.
Maybe I need to remember that rather than pray for the sun. It always comes, it’s always there and it always, always shines.
Writing and M.E. 