Monday

30. Home.


The weekend at home is just lovely. Slashing rain and howling winds but lovely. The snowdrops are so perfect – we have hundreds of the double snowdrops sheltering underneath bushes. They are all bravely out and beautiful.

Each day there has been about an hour of sunshine – time to race out with bright-eyed, bouncing beagles so glad for a proper walk. Their Dad doesn’t take them as far or as fast as I do. They get road walks all around the fields but not in the fields.

We don’t make it to the moor itself this weekend because the landrover’s in for repair and there are floods down the East Week road. And, frankly, I a too tired to face the winds up there. Fair enough, you can lean on them ... but walking’s a bit of a challenge.

But we do make it to the river path at Sticklepath. Biggle is usually bored by that and she’s a bit nervous of other dogs – it’s a popular walk - but there are no other walkers and she was so happy to be out that she races around, up and down the hill, tongue hanging out and full of the joys of life.
Thunderfeet MegaBeagle (Mrs), AKA Razzle, who’s somewhat older, more staid and conscious of her position in life, having been a show champion, potters along grumbling a bit at having to cross streams and plod through mud after her Mum. But she is still glad to be out; glad for the change.

It feels so good to be home; so wonderful to be seeing this forest of birch trees covered in bright green lichen and with ferns growing along their branches. Underneath, the path is lined with years (maybe centuries) of rock laid down by walkers to alleviate the winter mud. This is the walk from Sticklepath up to the moorland village of Belstone so it has been a foot and horse track for a very long time. Now of course, we take our 4x4s up the tarmaced road and unload our dogs at the very top for a hike around the nine stones stone circle, the tors themselves and across miles of windy moorland.

I stand and watch the roaring, thundering, foaming river at each corner. The months of rain have made it a fearsome but magnificent torrent but there are still slow-water  pools and corners of quietness overhung by trees where you can pause and just gaze at this ancient, primeval landscape.

I wish it were a weekend of total relaxation but there is work to do — including an online webinar on Kabbalah and the Teachings of Jesus — so this Sunday is not a Sabbath. I will take a full day off in the week to compensate. I should be doing the webinar tomorrow (Monday) but I can’t really do it from Diane’s flat so a day early it is. Luckily I was able to work out most of it on the train home on Friday. I do tend to fly by the seat of my pants with webinars and workshops. God doesn’t do early so the inspiration comes in perfect time.

I can trust that now. I trust that very deeply. I still need to learn to trust in my healing at the same deep and knowing level of being. Part of me does – and all of me knows that all is truly well – but even so, the little child within still needs a further reassuring cuddle of faith.

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