Almost a week ago I began, not for the first time – a journey into rather than away from. Though the week was spent with others, it was very much time for self; the others, provided the reflection necessary, for the internal reference.
A story told, crammed with metaphors, lead us through fields to an old house; cared for by a very special couple. Visitors were clearly changed having spent time at this magical place; it was as if they could take some of the very fabric of the building with them. Cases packed, taxi waiting in the drive, each one carried out much more than they had brought.
Returning to places that have been important to us, is not always that easy. The woman in the story, after leaving the old house, paused on a bridge and gazed into the water; seeing herself looking back at her becoming.
This evening was spent at a Vin Garbutt gig, which I thoroughly enjoyed; he saved the best till last and sang “What’s the use of wings”.
