Sandbox Blog

‘Wander where there is no path’

What foolish thoughts

To search

To wander

To quest for a way

To cut through wild thickets

To shred skin on brambles

To fall down in ditches

When all the time

When all along

You were offering me

Pathway

After

Pathway

Leading this way

And that

Stretched out in front of me

Laid down before me

Soft strewn with oak leaves

Right under my nose

Right under my feet

An abundance of pathways

An oak leaf communion

She stood, transfixed, by the shore.

Traffic, people, conversation round about her: ceased.

There was only the sea, the wide open beach, the crash of the waves on the shore.

She moved, slowly, forward, looking always out to sea.

The wind shrieked in her hair.

Sand stung her cheeks.

She laughed in delight.

She sat down in front of the sea.

Northern sunshine, cold wind, the sting of the sand, the tang of salt water. Rocks, pummelled by the sea. Waves, crashing.

She sat, and watched, transfixed. Transformed.

She wanted to shout. She wanted to run. She wanted to fly into the waves.

Energy coursed through her.

She knew anything was possible.

She sat watching, lost in the crash of the waves, found in the spray of the sea.

Lost and found.

It was as far north as she could go.

It was the end of the pilgrimage.

I was walking looking for shadows, patterns of darkness and light.

As I walked past a small park I turned and caught this light show on the wall of a block of flats. The trees were dancing in the light. I felt so moved by what I could see: just an ordinary wall, a vent, a window, and this art work playing on the wall for us, dancing, delighting.

I took the photo not sure if it would ‘work’ and I’m not sure it works in the way some photos I normally ‘take’ – of big wide open landscapes and pathways through trees, inviting us in.

However, when I dropped my gaze into the photograph I still felt deeply moved by it.

Could see more this time – the different patterns of squares and rectangles, the play of branches reflected in the window too, and the image of the shadow tree dancing seemed stronger and more compelling, each time I looked I could see movement, grace, beauty, and the invitation to dance.

I was trying to say goodbye.
Turn my back and let things go
It was hard but it was time
And I was ready, my head said.
To turn the key and say goodbye.

Meanwhile:

You were calling me to turn around
Drink in beauty
Dream in wonder

You threw in sunshine, in January
Just warm enough to stand on deck
To breathe in sunshine
To drink in Clydelight
To wonder at the blueness of the day.

Oh you were calming the waters of the river
So the boats drifted smooth
Casting perfect reflections

You were draping white mist on the hills of the Holy Loch
Begging me to look at you
To look back and wonder
To look back and cry for you

As I tried to turn my back on you
As I tried to say “goodbye”

On a cold grey day
I was walking by the river
Looking for a story or a sign of life
In the greyness of January
With my hat down and gloves on
With my head up with my eyes wide open
Safe in the knowledge that I’d find you there.

But still
When I did
When I found you by the river
When I looked once and looked twice
When I bent down to look more closely
When I cleared away the rubbish and the brownness of old leaves
When I looked down and found you there

Soft, strong
Tiny, vast
Green, white
Sign of spring and gift of winter

I couldn’t help but cry