Everything sings the same message. Spring watch, the trees, the flowers, the birds. We need to listen, listen, hear the silent message. Trees are good for us. We are destroying the world. Is it now too late? This beautiful universe, this planet, this earth, the galaxies, too vast to even contemplate. As Pascal, the French mathematician, once said: “The infinite vastness of the universe fills me with terror!”
When I was eighteen I was young, idealistic, filled with ardour. I wrote poetry. Looking back at it I feel it was quite prophetic. Here is a poem that I wrote.
My aim is to sing a song of beauty,
To gather loveliness out of the wind’s caress,
To bring pain into the heart of youth,
To draw out passion from the budding rose
And make it live again in some throbbing breast.
To pierce the bud of jessamine
And bring forth scents and sounds
Excelling all those ever smelt or heard on earth before.
That is my aim.
I thought this was a pretty tall order, the vaulting ambition of youth. But now that I am old and look back on all the vicissitudes of my life, I see that perhaps it was not. For we are all different. In being true to ourselves we are each of us unique, we are truly original. To say that my song is like no other, born out of my own experience and my own personal make up, is the perfect truth.
This is why I have produced my first book, “The Heroine’s Journey: from darkness to light”, and why I am writing my life story “……till I end my song.”
More to come on this in my next blog, so stay tuned.