Well GreenForce, I'm not entirely sure where I came from either, but I'm glad my ramblings seem to be appropriate.
Concerning your travel plans, I would encourage you to consider a dream which a friend once had. In it she travelled the world with a bicycle, an umbrella, and a frying pan. Since a (dry) fried egg sandwich can usually be sold for a greater sum than the cost of the ingredients, she had no trouble getting around.
I'm sure you will carefully assess the fiscal possibilities of a sea-plane, dog, motorcycle, and pretty girl, and come up with your own formula for success -- though life may be more complicated than if you had embarked on a walking tour.
It seems we like the same aspects of England, I'm fascinated by our ancient history also, there was a sophisticated and highly educated population here before the Roman Invasion, they built Stonehenge to prove forever the complexity of their knowledge, yet the "regular" academics prefer to prolong the lie that we lived savage brutal lives in caves before being civilised by Rome. Before, our God was present in everything, the whole world was sacred -- after, we had an angry old guy in the sky to deal with, and no respect for our earthly surroundings.
For me, the stone circles of England really are a portal, and I'm slowly learning to use dowsing rods and pendulum to trace the ley lines which connect them.
I'm very pleased to hear that what I wrote was meaningful for you, life is such a miraculous affair, so little understood, and all we have is words ... I'm trying to point to the moon, to it's ephemeral beauty - and all I have is this gnarled grubby old finger.
So, in case anyone gets my drift, I'd like to tell you about the Jackdaws - and of course, (like shortbread, where the length is immaterial, and it's not bread) - it's not really about birds at all.
Watching the jackdaws - it's an inevitable pastime , they live out their lives all around me. Nesting in the trees to the north and west, on chimneystacks in the east and south, and in the air vents and spare chimneys of our house, they confirm the fact that any building becomes part of the landscape. No escape.
Congregating and dispersing to some subtle and complex tune I can't hear, sailing effortless or battling the wind, I often wonder what logic determines their flights, and whether when huddled behind the shelter of a chimneypot, they feel as disgruntled as they look. Especially days like today -- low cloud just above the rooftops, and everything dripping, soaking and cold in the winter's mist.
Just down the road, is Crow Trees Wood, where crows are outnumbered 50 to 1 by jackdaws. Perhaps those who named woods in this district were unaware of the solitary nature of the crow, or the helpful old saying that if you see a group of crows, they're rooks, and if you see a solitary rook, it's a crow. Or perhaps they were more sensitive to poetic meter than ornithological precision, since Jackdaw Trees Wood lacks the necessary crispness, having the extra syllable .
It could be that the mild autumn is giving rise to a plague of parasites, and as yet there are few active chimneys for smoking out the fleas, but certainly the choreography has undergone an eerie change of late. Roosting in pairs, they usually perch a couple of feet apart so that wings can be stretched without acrimony, but recently a new togetherness has become the rule, and much mutual preening goes on as they now perch shoulder to shoulder.
This outbreak of avian solidarity has me wondering if they know something about 2013 that I don't, -- a question which is answered in the mere act of phrasing it, since I know nothing, and they know everything they need, except perhaps that when they huddle closer together, my world also becomes a little more sombre and harsh.
This colony is by no means isolated, but part of a larger cohesive society. Not for jackdaws our clinging to tribal insularity - though territorial, they are connected and interconnected, and a great deal of visiting is the norm.
Some days other colonies come winging through the mist, and set up several temporary headquarters in adjacent woodlands. Then the emissaries begin, singly and in groups, to move between the various focal points, the air not only sustaining their wings, but serving as the vehicle for their calls which continue throughout the day.
These occasions have an air of purpose, an atmosphere of conference and resolve for the corvid cause. To call it a parliament would give the idea, but these aerial activities reveal a beauty and dignity which differentiate them from the actions of our politicians.
Not that they need to voice their thoughts, for this is no disorganised rabble, but a composite being - able to operate on both the individual and the collective level, a group able to take flight as one without discernible cause. Viewing them as mere individuals only indicates my own frequent lack of awareness and the continuing legacy of my hubristic humanity. We are all connected, -- ask the Jackdaws.
Surely there is something for me to learn from their perfect synchrony of the collective and the individual, using the benefits of each while I often suffer the worst of both worlds? Wouldn't it be easier to love my neighbour, if my life were truly illuminated by the awareness that we are all made of the same stuff, and part of the same thing ?
When a fledgling's first flight from the nest under our eaves ended prematurely on next-door's compost heap owing to a length of string and nest material firmly knotted round it's ankle, I went over to try and free the hapless aviator. As I picked it up, the rest of the jackdaws set up a racket, and swooped down as if to effect a rescue, making the untangling a difficult process, but after cutting the string -- so much thicker than the young ankle, at last I could lift the bird aloft, and watch it's more successful second flight and subsequent ascent into a tall beech tree to join it's anxious parents.
Yes - although they feel an enmity borne of old, I still try to gain their favour, and convince them of my inhuman kindness, my willingness to share the world gladly with them. My offerings however, cut no ice with the corvid. Brief eye-contact tells me they are all too aware of the activities of my species, and as one of that group, I am still feared and avoided with the rest.
But what they give me, is so much more valuable than the bread I give them.
We are all connected.
Ask the jackdaws.
Sunbeem.