Of being a scatterling and feeding the soul

To be able to step out of the parked car into sunshine and to feel a lightly warmed breeze on my face was sublime.

There is a definite turn of the seasons, the fading of winter's grip and an awakening of spring.

 We left the car and stepped out of the gauzy sunlight into dappled shade following a yew lined mossy pathway. The track undulated gently alongside Arnside Knott in Silverdale, leading us away from the road and slightly upward revealing a silvery blue and green panorama.

 This is why we were here. The draw of that exquisite juncture where earth, sea and sky meet and vanish in a sunlit shimmer. It does something to me - it makes my heart pound and soar and I have to fill my eyes and head with the vision of it. Devouring everything.

Despite being surrounded by the sea, where we live - it is not that easy to 'pop down to the coast'. I originate from a landlocked country before landing on a northern island nation and I yearn for that thin clear blue light that only the sea air can give. Where my eyes can see forever and yet not see the end.

The track led us back away from the vista and into still winter sleepy trees. In the pools of light small evidence of  emerging spring flowers that I have been so starved of for what feels like an age.

 The dog acted as my heart felt - absolute joy of being out and breathing slightly damp woodland air tinged with salt. Her paws flew along as she ran and jumped and played with such visual happiness. Just having her around raises the spirits -she radiates delight in her surroundings and shows no mercy to mud or puddles or sticks or balls - they are all for the playing with and having fun.

The darkness of the woodland ended gently as we entered a rambling camping site, a jumble of static caravans tucked in between trees and summerhouses. A quiet murmur of holidaying folk could just be heard as they pottered about their personal boltholes.

Our path threaded through the site and led us past a colourful and noisy playpark filled with small children completely enthralled in their games while parents and grandparents sat by the cafe nursing hot mugs of tea or coffee. Most of them engrossed in a newspaper or some form of electronic device. The light and views and the gleefully playing children passing them by.

Leaving the noisy crowd reminded me of something I read about Seamus Heaney who advocated that we should move from HERD (easily manipulated masses) to HEARD (the discerning ear that keeps you alive to anaesthetic, trance states and seduction). It was a relief to step off that path on to a pebble strewn shelf towards the receding tide. To be able to leave the disarray of parked cars, disinterested parents and shrieking children in the distance was bliss.

As was hearing the gentle repetitive hush and shush of the sea on the stones. We happily stumbled around the headland, laughing as Moss propelled herself at high speed into the small lapping waves creating a dash of white water as she went along.

The chink and stumble of the pebbly beach changed to brackish streams, marsh grasses and mud banks. All the while the flash of the twinkling sea water filled my eyes and my heart. As I write, I can smell the salty air and see the sunglint on each small wave.

Our feet continued to follow the narrow corridor as it rose above the sea and wound beneath wind bent trees. On a gentle day such as today it belied the anger and strength of the on shore winds. This stretch felt as walking alongside the flank of a sleeping animal.

My feet by now were tired and heavy, the others however were still striding forward happily in their element and I was falling behind. Before, I would have felt agitated at my inability to no longer keep up as I used to. I would have angry tears and angry words in my head - raging at them and raging at me. Then I came to the realisation that this anger and disappointment aimed at my failing knee was more harm than help. So I told myself that I can only do and go as far and as fast as I am able and to allow them to range on ahead. 

This acceptance of my limitations actually freed me - I now enjoy my walking more. I feel more, I see more, I no longer miss out. Then, when one of the boys notices I have fallen back, they stop and wait. For when you wait - you see what you would have otherwise missed.

I am a scatterling - not a nomad but not held by one place - walking feeds that need, walking feeds my soul.

What feeds yours?