Bringing some strands together here. How to feel good within yourself, experience repeatable moments of joy, even when the world outside looks grim and the news is uniformly dismal. Strong sunlight plays a part but it's rarer at this time of year than in summer. Every moment of blue-sky day should be made the most of; cram in that Vitamin D; let the sun lift the mood.
But when it's dark and wet outside, retreat to a rich inner world. A world of imagination beckons; a world broader and deeper than the one we could possibly hope to visit physically. Unlimited in vistas, where time and space form no barriers. Here's one I did - what will you conjure up?
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Imagine. It's a beautiful autumnal morning; the storms have passed overnight leaving the sky intensely blue, entirely cloudless. You walk down the golf-course fairway, perfectly manicured, leaving footprints on the dewy grass. The sun sparkles off the river that forms the water hazard; you cross the small wooden bridge, past the next green, where a red flag on a white pole rattles in the wind. To your left, sand traps, recently raked. It's a quiet weekday; hardly anyone out with their clubs. To your right, tall fir trees, the sunlight accentuating the redness of the bark. The trees climb a slope towards a ridge, then fall away toward the ocean. You can just about hear the breakers. To your left, on the horizon, the serrated peaks of a distant mountain range, its tips already white with snow. Your morning walk across the golf course has been exhilarating. You're not there to play a round, but to meet some old friends for a late breakfast at the club house. Crispy bacon, pancakes, maple syrup, fresh orange juice - and some decent coffee. There are a few cars gleaming in the car park outside the moderne club house. They've arrived. You step inside, to be cordially greeted by the Maitre'd, who shows you to your table where your buddies have just sat down. Time to catch up and crack a few jokes. The windows are from ceiling to floor, and you can see the promontory and the ocean. Life is good.
How do you imagine a good morning?
Now imagine uncorking a bottle of single-malt whisky from Islay; you know - those peaty ones. Pour some into a cut-crystal tumbler. Swirl it round and smell it - get a good nostril-full. Now raise the tumbler to your lips; feel the warmth on your tongue and within your mouth as you take a small sips, and the conviviality rising through your bloodstream as the whisky takes effect... Can you feel it? Can you imagine it? (I have conducted this thought-experiment many a time during Lent!)
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Joy can come unexpectedly in the tangible form of a kitten; Felusia, who was brought to us by Pani Natalia, our Ukrainian cleaning-lady of long standing. Two months old, Felusia's mother died soon after she was born. Pani Natalia's son found the kitten, gave it to his mother, who was told by their landlord that they couldn't keep pets. So Felusia came to Jeziorki. The fifth full-time cat in our household, she breaks the golden rule that male cats are fun and companionable, while female cats are sulky and keep themselves to themselves. Felusia is an affectionate scamp, and very sociable, following the humans to where they are. Curious and intelligent as was our dear, departed Lila, but far friendlier.
Having her sitting on my lap, stroking her behind the ears and hearing her purr contentedly is a certain and repeatable joyful event. Which is good for the health. Happy = healthy = happy = healthy = happy, a virtuous circle, for which one should feel deeply grateful.
It's been four months since Papuś died; a goodly interregnum. Or intercattum, indeed. I wish Felusia a long and happy and joyous life; if she lives as long as Papuś, I'll be saying farewell to her at the age of 81.
This time two years ago:
Autumn, with a railway theme
This time three years ago:
A few words about coincidence
This time six years ago:
Hello, pork pie [my week-long pork-pie diet]
This time eight years ago:
The meaning of class - in England, in Poland
This time nine years ago:
First frost
This time 13 years ago:
First frost
[Today's 24-hour low: +4.8C]
Now that's a tasteful imagining, a nice Islay whisky, perhaps even a dram from the distillery with vaults extending beneath the ocean.
ReplyDeleteYour account, Michel, makes me think of camping on the wild Islay coast, elusive amongst the dunes, enveloped in fresh salt air and gull-cries. Happy days when rushing around wasn't a fixture of life. (I'd got there by taking the night train from Euston to Glasgow, a local train to Ardrossan, then a MacBraynes boat to Arran, cycled across that rugged isle, stayed a night in a youth hostel, taken a mush smaller boat to Kintyre, cycled over that peninsular, and ridden a third vessel to Islay. Now that was a holiday ... ) I'll imagine a good whisky in a place with no hurry.
@ WHP
ReplyDeleteAs it happens, I'm enjoying a wee snifter of Laphroaig Four Oaks as I read your comment! And I can conjure up the gull cries... Slàinte Mhath!