More than Writers

 T his morning I woke to a bright blue sky and sunshine, tipping last night's forecast of unremitting rain on its nose.  In a burst of enthusiasm I stripped all the beds and stuffed the sheets and duvet covers in the washing machine.   'You must be mad' my housemate Marilyn said.  'It's going to be raining all day today, how will you dry them?'   Presuming Marilyn hadn't realised it was sunny (she is blind) I replied blithely, 'it's a beautiful day, the forecast was wrong!  They'll dry in no time.'   Marilyn shook her head doubtfully, but I was sure I'd made the right decision when an hour later the sky was still clear and with bright sunshine and a gentle breeze it seemed perfect drying weather.  Marilyn's lift arrived for her church lunch and I happily pegged up the full basket full of bed linen.  The sheets and duvet covers  were soon dancing happily in the breeze and glowing in the bright sun.  I felt smug. ...

Picture yourself in a crowded London street – or any city, for that matter. See the people around you, rushing here and there, invading your personal space. Hear the sounds – the traffic, the newspaper sellers at the station entrance, the hubbub of conversation. See the busyness of the shop windows, the constant moving of the traffic and the people. Sniff the pollution, the ‘peopley’ smell of passers-by hurrying to get to their destinations. As you walk, you’re constantly shifting and dodging left and right, stopping abruptly, hurrying forward, to avoid bumping into people. What an assault on the senses. Now stop. Stand completely still. Look up. Allow the sights, sounds and smells of the busy street to fall away. What do you see? What do you hear? What do you smell? See the space, the blue sky, the sunshine. Breathe deeply of the fresh, clean air. Allow the busyness of your day to fall away, and just focus on the space. Listen to the silence. How often do we do this? Not o...