For it is not the physical solitude that actually separates one from other men, not physical isolation, but spiritual isolation. It is not the desert island nor the stony wilderness that cuts you from the people you love. It is the wilderness in the mind, the desert wastes in the heart through which one wanders lost and a stranger. When one is a stranger to oneself then one is estranged from others too. If one is out of touch with oneself, then one cannot touch others. How often in a large city, shaking hands with my friends, I have felt the wilderness stretching between us. Both of us were wandering in arid wastes, having lost the springs that nourished us—or having found them dry. Only when one is connected to one’s own core is one connected to others, I am beginning to discover. And, for me, the core, the inner spring, can best be refound through solitude.
Gift from the sea Anne Morrow-Lindbergh
I have been tinkering with wild stuffs, garden and freezer remnants, pickling buds, making salads, cakes with frozen garden fruit, drinks and infused oils, dandelions, ramsons, mixed heads of flowering brassicas. I have been a little accident prone reposting and rewiring the electric fencing for the goats, but I asked for help and gratefully received it. I returned to an old book friend, Gift from the sea and wished I could give it to read to everyone I know and everyone else too : take time out, read this, return to your self, be of the world.
There is a lot to write about but I am choosing to let it all sit and infuse a little longer, knowing that what needs to be told will be in the appropriate space and time. This was a lovely Sunday, breakfast out and home with my lovely lovely children and we are all heading to bed early like wise hens.
(I have been feasting on library books and I must warmly recommend Hedgerow Medicine by Julie Bruton-Seal and Matthew Seal learn to enjoy your neighbourly plants…)