When the day has careened off course and I feel the hiraeth (a lovely term for ‘all-encompassing self destructive black mood’, nabbed from a Katherine Kerr novel) descending upon me again, I used to go down to the sea. But such luxuries of contemplation are defied by a tumultuous mind, where the need to do something strikes sparks of frustration from the anvil of having to wait.
So, one spends valuable funds on medicine for the soul: a large coffee from Caffe Nero. Pint cup in hand it is time for the second stage of the cure, to consume the potion at the most salubrious time.
Thus a peregrination around the back alleys of Worthing town, where the past has not been painted over, streetlamps jostle with verdant overgrowth and the murmurs from pedestrian streets could be from any era blends a perfect tonic.
I am fortified by the momentary solitude of the wanderer, that rare calm and self-depreciating, rueful ‘smile within’ that restores perspective and heals without reserve.
May your fears never paralyse you into inaction. Blessed Be.