Every Waking Minute

As I write this I'm sat on a windowsill with a bottle of raspberry cider to my left. To my right is a four poster bed, source of much entertainment this week, whilst through the window beckons a landscape of pure natural beauty. Green pastures, horses grazing in meadows, a quaint village  about a mile distant. Someway beyond the landscape lurches upward, cresting to a  hillside of pine trees, whilst the rugged Northumbria landscape sweeps away to the east. Imagine a place with pristine rivers, vast inland waters, and a coastline with castles and ruins. It's inspirational in any season, but in the sunshine seems to me as wonderful as anywhere I've been in England. Now I'm normally happy to head home at the end of a holiday, but this time I've genuinely fallen for this place. The locals are a delight, the absence of unnecessary bustle marked, whilst the environment teems with wildlife and the glories of creation. Next week normal service resumes, the ebb and flow of work, the absurd shift pattern, and the total lack of routine. I find myself wondering where the road ahead may lead me? Only then I catch myself. The road isn't leading me anywhere. I have to write my own script. Now in an ideal world I would be a writer, but on the basis of sales of my last book I would make enough money to feed a couple of hamsters for a couple of weeks, on the assumption that they ate conservatively. So I don't think I'm going to be living that dream. But what then? Continue as I am? Growing in cynicism as it increasingly dawns that my job amounts to little more than putting out small social fires? What I'm saying is that I don't know what comes next, which I guess is nothing new. All the really key moments in my life have erupted from moments of spontaneity. I'll probably just know when to write the next chapter. Whether it's a good one, I suppose only time will tell. I'm not sure there's a specific point to this entry other than to observe that our time on this planet is short. We're at the wheel of a remarkable thing we call life. We don't know when the journey ends, but we know that we've a limited time. Can I encourage you to use what you have wisely? I don't know your hopes and dreams, or whether life has been cruel or kind. But whatever has come to pass is water under the bridge. It cannot be changed, merely filtered through the lens of experience. The road before you stretches on, and there are possibilities great and small on route. Where will you alight? What experiences await you? Again I have no insight, but this much I know. Live as if it means something. Live in the power of it. We're the latest batch of humanity and we're just passing through. Remember this. Feel it in every fibre of your being. Today matters, and so does tomorrow. So enjoy the ride, and may treasures await you all.