For some time now I have felt to be at a point of stasis, of transition. Not that I have been still; life has been full and busy. But of fidgeting on the spot, restless but unsure which direction to take next. I know the feeling well. And I know that there is no point rushing, trying to forge ahead down a new path which will probably prove to be the wrong one and result in an undignified U-turn. So I have waited, not patiently, for the direction to reveal itself.
This Christmas has been unusual. There was the long cold spell when for over a week I was confined by the ice to the house and garden. But the weather was glorious – cold, but sunny and clear, invigorating. Just as it was ending my son, daughter and her new partner came to stay for the weekend. The ice was melting by day, the rain was pouring down, and the nights were chilly enough to make the thaw slow. We stayed indoors and stoked the fire. They left and I dashed around re-stocking with food, and delivering a few local gifts and cards. Today is Day 3 of the Official Holiday as we have an extra day to compensate for Christmas Day being a Sunday. 3 Days of solitude (by choice – I had plenty of invitations to join others for Christmas lunch), walking the dogs and sitting by the fire. 3 Days of eating (especially chocolate), drinking (including more gin than I really should), reading, knitting, listening to podcasts and watching TV on catch-up and, most especially, reflection. And I think the way ahead is beginning to become clearer; plans and ideas beginning to coalesce. More of which in a future post.
Two books have been really helpful in this process.
In order of reading the first is ‘Hagitude’ by Sharon Blackie. It’s sub-title is ‘Re-imagining the second half of life’. Her thesis is that, culturally, we post-menopausal women are supposed to grow old gracefully, fading gradually into decrepitude and death, when what we should be doing is growing into elderhood and power and she shares myths and legends suggesting how that might manifest itself. Sharon uses different imagery but it brought to mind memories from way back.

Many, many years ago, when my children were toddling, I was warden of some sheltered flats for the elderly. I found an image came into my head of my residents as trees which had shed their leaves, revealing their underlying structure and shape. Some were graceful and elegant, some had been bent by the wind so that they were hunched and stunted, some had a tall and disciplined shape, others had much looser arrangements of branches. I reckon I have lost most of my leaves now. The leaves being the social constructs of acceptable behaviour to which we conform. They soften our edges, obscure our less nice bits, make us nicer to know, if less knowable. I am much less likely now to say ‘Yes’ when I really want to say ‘No’ though I hope I still (mostly) do it nicely and politely. I have always been a disappointment to the purveyors of beauty products. My wrinkles are free to sag at will, my hair is tabby – white bits, grey bits, brown bits – and I see no reason to dye it, my one concession to ‘looking nice’ being, since I had my long hair cut short for practicality, a good hair cut regularly. Now, it seems, life is encouraging me to prune away a few branches and allow some new one to grow. Another transition, metamorphosis. What will be revealed?
The second book is ‘The Salt Path’ by Raynor Winn. I picked up her sequel ‘The Wild Silence’ in the library as one of my random choices and immediately I had read it requested this one. In one week her husband was told he had an incurable neuro-degeneratiuve disease and their home, which was also their business, was reposessed. As two adults with no dependents they were low priority for a Council house, they didn’t want to sofa surf knowing they would soon be intrusive to, and resented by, their hosts however old the firendship, so they set off to walk the South West Coast Path wild camping all the way, giving themselves time and space to find a way forward. I still have a couple of chapters to read and then I need to digest what it means. I am not sure why it was so important I read this book right now but know that it was. Maybe something about letting the last few leaves go? Being willing to embrace the radical?

It looks as though 2023 will be an interesting one for me. Some endings, some beginnings. (And before anyone panics neither a literal long distance walk nor wild camping are in prospect!) I hope you will all keep me company on the journey.