Shiva's and Metta's Mother's Sutra

I forgot to pack my journal. There is no paper here. So I m reduced to blogging.  Rathlin is a thin place. The abrasive action of wind and surf agitates the atmosphere, polishing its light and stone. The silence is its own music. The sussuration of grasses, reeds, stones as they tumble themselves into pebbles... back and forth, the silence plays.  Here the elementals revel with incessant change. Nothing stays and  time moves in fits and starts. The arrival and departure of the hundreds of thousands of birds marks a beginning and an end. Here is the emergence and plunge of the sea. I have come here for almost 20 years. Everytime I leave I m more in bewitched than I have ever been. To know that there is a touchstone, a place which stays faithful, which I can depend on, that will outlast me and my love for it. That is a kind of immortality.

I've decided to stop trying to write one blog post a day and just do what I can. I wonder sometimes if I have lost my faith in things which I had faith in - even if I didn't managed to achieve the fullest potential from it. Things I may have lost faith in. My writing. I feel like I can't be bothered to write anymore. What's worse I feel like I have nothing to say really. I look around me and the deluge of words is not just torrential it is maddening. Content is pouring out of every crevice. And most of it is nonsensical. Or neurotic. And not in a good way. When I was born... up to when I was 20, this is literally true, the only way you could get information or experience art was to do so by getting up and moving. Get a book. Go to the cinema. Art museum. To create it yourself. And it was not incessant. And the quality of it was far better simply because people had to stop and think. There wasn't this shoot from the hip crap where there is no filter. Hour long youtub...

Over the past three days - well two days - I have watched a LOT of TV. I basically spent all my days lying on the sofa like a vegetable. I used to think that doing this was stupid and brain dead. Then the pandemic arrived and there was not a lot else to do - apart from garden and work on the online stuff. I still have not recovered from the online stuff. Despite my full-tilt nature of my now existence, it is still now REALLY REALLY exhausting to be out and about. And I still have so much to do. Long as an arm the things I have to do.

Steiner. I feel myself becoming more independent in my path of growth and no longer feel I have to quote Steiner - or refer back to him. I am now more and more working away with my own understanding of anthroposophy and I find that I feel far more settled - far more happy about this. There are things which are still keep, but the having to colour in the lines... that is no longer needed. As usual I spent the last two days horizontal - more or less - just exhausted. I am completely exhausted. I haven't been right since Covid -And I don't mean the illness. I mean the coming back to rhythm and form. I wonder what happened to jabbing everyone every six weeks? Has the vaccination now developed this kind of special ability to no longer need boosted? What?  Right I now have to get cracking with the Covid restrictions. It is all a load of bollocks anyway. The stupid parties in 10 Downing Street, the double standards at these superrich gatherings. These people on pretend vaccine passpor...