Cling, we are fading

I am lucky to live in the countryside, in a place I love, surrounded by woods and fields and ancient tracks. As I return from whatever travels the day has demanded up the lane that leads to my home, trees arch above my head and welcome me back unfailingly. The copse where we often walk the dogs is full of old trees, some cloaked in moss and many tipping at unnatural angles where strong south westerlies have pushed them from vertical over the years. Many of them have fallen and now provide complex ecosystems for all of the wildlife that bursts from their softened sinews. I can't help but imagine fairy folk peeping from between the tangles roots and hollowed out trunks. The outstretched roots of the tree in this photograph are to me a big green hand grasping at the earth...holding on, clinging.

How resilient is the noble tree and how willing to adapt. How giving.

As the Crisis continues to escalate and unfold, I spend more and more time exploring how to foster my own resilience. Not just on how to grow and store food, keep warm and physically do everything I can to enable my family and friends to survive but also on how to keep my heart and mind open, to be in and of the moment, to continue to nurture others and find a place for strangers at my table. The communities we gravitate towards will be increasingly important. There can be no more business as usual....for business will no longer be relevant. We are still for the moment anchored in the fossil fuelled reality of modern life but a transition is coming and how we relate to that will shape the future. 

I find myself reaching out, searching for deep ancestral memories. As I lie awake most nights, images of ancient, familiar faces project onto my eyelids. I wonder how these people lived and died. How there once was a time when we were profoundly connected to nature. There was no separation. We innately knew the seasons, the growing patterns, the cycles between birth and death. Every plant had a use and was more than just a flowering. Each wildflower held the secrets to a myriad of functions and different either household or medicinal purposes. Mysteries had been revealed to us long ago and now as we chose to ignore the truth they had so generously shared, they are once again held tight and are once again as secret as the night. It's up to us to knock and ask for the closed doors to be opened. To make the effort to see what is before us.

I am glad that I spent many years in the discipline of working as an architect. Painful as it often was. Understanding how to fit elements together, how to make a building warm and cosy with breathing materials and fresh air creating a healthy environment. The often confrontational and adversarial atmosphere of the building site has knocked off many of my own corners and taught me skills to at least try to resolve and not apportion blame but fix what is wrong as best one can and move on. To be part of a team is a privilege. Old brick layers can unlock mysteries if only they are asked. Equally the latest research into solar panels for example, can change the way things have been done for decades if not hundreds of years. 

"Cling we are fading" was one of the first pieces of art made by my son. It perches in my kitchen and reminds me everyday to be in the moment. To be aware and to breath gently.