This week has been a fabulous week of lunch times on my bench under my tree. I have been very consciously enjoying making the most of the beautiful crisp autumn days, never knowing whether each will be the last.
The knowledge that these days will not last forever brings an urgent appreciation of each moment; drinking in the wonder and stunning beauty of every detail which floods my senses.
But my main train of thought this week paused on the ever-changing nature of my spot under the tree. Each day I come to my trusted spot: the same time, the same place (providing some outrageous member of the public hasn't chosen to ignore the big invisible label booking my daily slot...), the same routine of eating the same lunch.
Many would find it boring, but although I must agree it is predictable (I find this brings me peace) I am never bored. The experience is never the same twice. Because everything else is safely constant, I can process and find pleasure in the change around me as the seasons progress and the weather varies. I feel connected to the real things in life, and the rhythm of the surrounding world.
Hot sun, cold air, gentle breeze, blue sky, angry clouds, dancing leaves, muffling blankets of snow, powerful wind moving my body, cotton wool clouds - the elements are my trusted companions.
Surprisingly often they mirror or complement my internal state, for as I sat this week, I realised how ever-changing I am too. On no two days do I arrive on that bench as exactly the same person. A thousand things conspire to present the me that exists at any time. Some days I am cloudy, some days the sun is bright and the sky deep blue. Sometimes I am silent and muted like the snow blanket, or I need a forceful wind to counter the turmoil inside. Even on the worst days there will almost always be a snippet of birdsong or a tumbling leaf to bring a passing moment of joy.
And the conclusion that I came to is that it is absolutely fine that a different me stops under the tree each day. It is as natural as the constant change of the sky and air around me. If every day were perfect blue skies and sunshine it would lose its magic, and I would miss out on so many of the other wonders to experience. I will not always be perfect blue skies and sunshine, but neither will I always be cascades of raindrop tears. Each moment will pass to make way for another, which in its turn will pass.
Some may linger longer, but none is permanent, and this is the natural way. I may not be OK, or I may not have been able to make the best choices, but that is a part of the story, and that is OK. Wait and see what the next moment brings. It may be similar; it may be different, but I'm trying not to write the story before it happens, and to accept the way it unfolds with interest and compassion.
