The Quiet Place

It’s been months since I’ve blogged. I’m out of the habit. I’ve had little to say. The world seems to be become stranger and wilder, and its inhabitants more intent on self harm. Keeping up with it, making sense of it is quite beyond me. As I type this I’m in a remote farmhouse in the High Peaks, a region on the Derbyshire / Cheshire border. In every direction there are rolling, dramatic, undulating hills. There’s a big sky that wraps around in every direction, and come the evening the sunset illuminates the underside of immense clouds, giving them a tinge that makes them even more voluminous. I feel calm. Calm in a way my life so often prevents me from reaching. I’m breathing deeper, I’m able to reflect. I feel alive. I do a job where I see what insanity is, what cruelty is, what mindless selfishness is. See that every bloody day. I see people in extremis, at their worst, often their least human. I’ve been doing it for a decade and I think it has taken something from me. A little humanity, a bit of hope, the dopey optimism that I once held close. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m proud that I get a chance to make people’s bad days better, and bad peoples good day’s worse. But as I reflect now in this quietest of quiet places I’m aware it comes at a cost. So when I get the chance I seek solitude, the remote places. Blackhill Gate Farm has been perfect for this. I’ve been able to reach escape velocity, to be with Joy and Holly and Lowenna and our idiot canine for several days without having to think whether I’m on an early, a late, or a night shift. I haven’t had to manage my energy levels. It’s liberating. I sometimes wonder whether I should seek another job but I’m really good at what I do. Properly good. And I don’t say this out of arrogance although I get how it must seem that way. I appear to have the ability to perceive, for the most part, when I’m dealing with a scenario that has the potential to escalate, and when I’m dealing with a group or an individual that really doesn’t need us at all. Apparently I also have the ability to insult people without them ever realising that I have done it. Not sure how I feel about that, although it doesn’t sound like a quality when I think about it. I suppose I can be eloquent when I apply myself, although I’m never too far from obnoxious if I’m being honest. You know what? This week has reminded me that I need the quiet places. Solitude. Silence. Ok, the sheep all around the farm rarely pipe down but that’s just a charming ambient. Never realised just how different the various baa’s can sound. We’ve literally walked “Uphill and down dale” most days. I’ve taken in view after view, and my breath has been taken away more than once. I’ve enjoyed the remoteness so very much and I shall miss it when we leave tomorrow. I’ve another week off but we’ll be back in the south east, which is a busier and lesser place. Irrespective I’m grateful that I’ve had chance to breathe, to be, to stop and take it all in. Funny how I only realised just what a conveyor belt I’m on until I get off it for a while. And no. there’s no real purpose behind this blog. I’m just writing again. Just letting it all cascade out. I hope you’ve had a chance to seek those quiet places, too. I think it matters. . .