Finding the Heart of the Day

Today is grey, dull, cold and still. The sky is a blank washed out blanket, smothering the sun. The shadows creep and drag. A dry rasp of a day waiting for something to happen, waiting for something to find it. All the demands waiting to be dealt with, all the anxieties waiting to be fixed, but even so something else claims the attention; that thing beyond, that voice that speaks, the mind that knows, the heart that understands, that all this is just so much oil floating on the surface and underneath are greater depths, just waiting; looking for things that clear away the surface to the way underneath.
There is a never-ending communication going on through the world, everything is telling you something all the time, if you just watch and pay attention; from the tiny wagtail holding its own in the vast sprawl of concrete car park around it, a miniscule world within a huge, hard, frenetic one, to the bent old man, eyes forced to the ground, walking his stiff old dog, sharing their last days, but the love is there in the slow, awkward stoop to stroke the dogs head, the look back and wait for the man to catch up; from the spluttering, shouting loner, eyes full of strange madness, speaking to something we cannot see, to the still face of sadness, a silent loss deeply engrained, the haunted eyes stare out; to the skulking stray who dodges his way through the streets, lost, unable to trust, to reach out, to the cat who turned and asked for help, despite all her fear and was saved; to the faces in the moss on the old stones of an ancient wall, to the half-open window behind that wall, in the old house, full of shadows. Everything connects, flows, one thing leads to another. There is a whole world of stories moving around the land; the land itself constantly shifting, telling its own story, in the sky, the rain, the rocks, the wind, the trees, the earth. Each thing has its voice, a secret, each thing communicates, if you listen. Look deeper, look beyond and allow the presences to connect; then the work will come despite all the rest. It doesn’t matter how the day seems, the pulse is there waiting to connect.

The stone man whispering his secrets to those who will listen.