Rain splashing down on apricot-red clivias, muddy storm-water drains, trailing jasmine. There are baby owls nesting further down our road in a delapidated oak next to the kiggelia. Cloudlight breaking mauve and opal across the mountains.
Day by day, I surrender the shame and controlling self, the old fears and accidie and accrustation. There is life beyond me. The circus within of rehearsed performances and posters and no-shows has quietened down. Life is about others. That is the secret, as simple as that.
The ‘bare bones of AA’ are all I need for the journey. Everything else is gravy.
The roadside leading down to the river is a dense tunnel of fragrant wisteria. Old clay jars our bodies, the earth upturned and raw, the river rushing and then falling silent, the bees thrumming and spinning in the lilac wisteria, the clouds breaking apart over the mountains. Entering into life, the spaciousness within, the beauty and wonder that it should be so simple.
When you reach out, what is there reaches back.