As Autumn magnificence fades into the melancholy of Winter, we’ve been treated to the most stunning fog here in the coastal reaches. Soft tendrils of grey wrap the landscape, softening hard edges and blurring reality. It’s hard to see which way you are meant to be going. Which is rather apposite, since I find myself wandering in the kind of limbo that only ever afflicts the sure-footed in times of flux.
Poised between two worlds – I’m finalising my affairs in the UK, in preparation for a move to the continent – I feel…fog-bound. Tied to a spiritual sea fret. It’s hard to see which way I’m meant to be going. I find myself in a new reality. All blurry edges and deeply confusing. Of course, I put this down to a mammoth ‘to do’ list which is just on the wrong side of overwhelming. As someone who is very work-orientated, I’m not so good at ‘down time’.
Although changing everything is a big step, it’s no leap of faith. I may not be sure footed at present, but I am sure about the love that beckons like a lightship from across the Channel. Light is the best cure for fog. And love is the best cure for loneliness.
Coming home to the coastal reaches is almost always a driving epiphany. I work away for a living so time at home-base is treasured. After fighting recalcitrant traffic on the motorway, and making my way down winding country roads, I pass ‘The Field’.
To untrained eyes, it is simply a farmer’s field. To me, it is so much more. This is the patch of land I affectionately call ‘The Field of Possibility’ – because it reminds me that even when things seem barren, there is always something more just waiting to burst into bloom.
In Winter it’s fallow, in Spring it’s buzzing with new life. The landowner rotates his crops, so over the last four years it’s been a wheat, cabbage and canola field. The world is full of change. Change brings possibilities…you just have to be able to see them.
Sometimes in life, the real art is in knowing when to act and when to be still. Earlier this year, I suffered a health scare, and needed surgery. It was a real eye opener. It was also time to be still…
Those of you who follow my real-world blog will know I carve a living in the corporate world. I’ve spent the last eighteen months pulling 18 hr days, while travelling extensively for a global client. I love what I do. In my working life I am decisive and action-oriented, so you can imagine how thrilled I was at the prospect of having to take time off to lie down and recuperate, not to mention the thought that I might not be well enough to continue pursuing my business interests!
Faced with the prospect of an uncertain outcome – was it cancer or wasn’t it – I had to put my affairs in order and get my head – and my heart – in the right place. Like I said, it was time to be still. So, I took time off work and went to hospital. Crisis is good that way – it tends to focus the mind on the important things! Anyway, I woke from the anaesthetic like a newborn – suddenly everything seemed fresh and precious. I certainly had a lot more clarity. I also got the all clear, which was the best news ever!
Since then, I’ve spent the past few months thinking deeply about my life and what I want from it. In some ways, it feels as though I’ve undergone a sort of emotional hibernation. Not acting, just waiting. Thinking and being still. This had a number of unexpected side effects… Worst of all, my blog muse just upped sticks and went on a six month bender…
Life ebbs and flows. Stillness is followed by action. So, it’s time for a change on all fronts. Even the edge of the pier.
This is a heads up that the blog is changing homes. From now on, if you’d like to follow Pier Point, you can find it here: edgeofthepier.wordpress.com
It feels good to be moving forward again.