This morning I imagined myself trying to explain to somebody
what’s so valuable to me about living where I do. 99.9% of them wouldn’t
understand. The surface reality is obvious enough; people understand the
beautiful views, the peace and quiet, the lovely walks around the lanes and
over the fields. I appreciate those things, too, but there’s more to it than that
for me – a lot more.
What’s really important is finally starting to get to grips
with what lies beyond the surface reality. It’s all about sensing the subtle
energy that suffuses and drives the natural order. I’ve felt hints of it before
in my life, but nothing like I do here. It’s palpable here, but it’s so subtle
that it’s very easily disturbed. If I stand at the bottom of my garden at
twilight – which is when it’s at its most manifest – and a vehicle comes down the
lane, the effect on me is literally painful. It tears at my midriff, which is
where the connection seems to be made.
How do I explain that to the people who could mess it all
up?
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