I’m going through a phase of needing quiet.
I suppose I need peace. But the next best thing is quiet.
I struggle with the thought of ‘what’s the point in doing anything?’ Everything is trivial and meaningless really, once we die. I don’t say this to be a downer – though, naturally, it is a downer.
I fight this conflict all the time. It’s why some days I do nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Today though I needed a walk in my favourite fields, to clear away the fog and cobwebs, and although it was freezing (literally freezing, it’s been snowing this week) it helped me hugely.
Just feeling the sun on my face.. it’s hard to explain. I don’t need to explain anyway.
there’s no point to anything but you can’t be happy doing nothing.
It’s simple, but as I’ve been realising recently, the best things are.
I’ve slacked on reading for a while now and to get back into it I started with some Roald Dahl. I then went onto The Secret Garden. The quote ‘where you tend a rose, my lad, a thistle cannot grow’ has stuck with me. So for two packages I’m sending to friends for Valentine’s Day I included a postcard of this quote that I drew, with a note on the back reminding them to keep the magic within them.