Sitting on the shoreline, on a bench, in the sunshine. On either side of me the park stretched out with all the trees, and grass, full of life and sounds of summer.
One little ole Scottish Mam came and sat beside me,
“…och I’m glad I’m on this side of the teeter-totter!”
She said as though it were an aside in a play. I knew at once how she felt, understood it completely. I’d heard it described as the afternoon of life vs the morning of life, but I instantly loved the image of the teeter-totter, of its joyous continuance.
As I gazed out into the bay, there was a ship moored just off shore in front of me. I turned to my little Scottish lady, but she’d walked on, and I felt myself pulled from there, and was nestled in that ship. It was full of all life’s comforts, everting I needed for all my plans! The blue prints lay on the table, with the map, the compass, pens, paper, and sketch pad.
I felt that warm embrace of all these things.
But as the ship began to fill with water, and I realized! “…it’s sinking!”
How useless and profane it all is! All of these comforts! Life it’s self and life eternal, that is the sweet fragrance.
Like being in a bubble grasping at it, seeing it just beyond reach, as my shop fills with water, soaking “all of these things” and dissolving them into morass…
I once again lay down to die! I lay myself down in the water that surrounds me, knowing that it will engulf me in its icy cold embrace, but as I sink to me knees, and slip into it, it is a warm embrace, where I expected breathlessness and panic, there was soft easy luxurious peace.
Indeed all the world of comfort and tangible life was now completely submerged, and little fishes were swimming amongst us, me and all my things.
I awoke, in my bed, soft warm covers, snuggling me. An epiphany!
The inky future lay all about me in darkened obscurity. The stove and coffee pot were solely illuminated, and I bore the morning’s cold embrace like an invigorating, welcome thing, as I flung back my covers, and clothed my feet in my fluffy bunny 🐰 slippers, don’t tell anyone about those, they might misunderstand, and I shuffled over to light the match, and then the gas, and placed the morning’s coffee upon it, and turned the kettle on.
The table with my writing pad stood by me, and I cleared away my space and began to write out my day.
I only knew the next step at a time, and that’s been more comfort to me in this world of elusive peace, than any things or plans or latent hopes.
I am ready every moment for every contingency
Running Down Vimy 