In my mind's eye

This piece was originally written for the book Writing Resilience published by The Writing Lab – York St John University

There is a place I go when life is dragging me down. A place I go when life makes no sense. When the pain is too much. The grief too great. The sorrow. A place where rivers flow. Where waterfalls plummet from great heights. A place where the sun’s rays capture the water’s edge. Where green, fertile meadows, spring forth life.

I watch the bees as they dip and dive their way around the delicate flowers. They fulfil their duty well. Their passion for life is strong. Their fortitude a strength in the face of hardship. We are grateful. I see the butterflies. The red admiral is my favourite. Iridescent colours of red, orange and yellow, gleam in the late-morning sun, as they flit and flutter by. Field mice scurry. Forage for food. I sit among the flower beds and reach for my pen, my notebook. A gift from my children. A Mother’s Day present. I promise I will write every single day. They remind me incessantly. If only in my mind’s eye.

I look across the ancestral landscape on a world of natural beauty. Of immortality. Ambrosia. The food of the gods. I lean back against the old oak tree. Her story entwines with the many stories of children playing. Laughter. Of stories long since forgotten. Her natural beauty defies her age. Her greatness comes from a place of love. Of compassion.

The ancient ruin stands stoic against the clear blue sky. In the face of adversity, of wars, of famine, of bloodshed, she held her head high. Protected the innocent. The surrounding trees pay tribute to her strength. Yet, she cannot withstand the ravages of time. The sense of calm lightens my mood. Lightens the load. An expression of rapture. Nature holds the fort. If only in my mind’s eye.

Tragically, these images reside only in my fading memory. For I, too, am ageing. The catastrophic impact of the flood took with it most of what we had. The lives of our sisters. Our brothers. Our children. Parents. Grandparents. A few survived. I was one of them. Then came the tremors. Buildings collapsed all around us. People running, screaming. Fear adds speed to winged feet.

We had heard the warnings. Witnessed the warnings. They had come fast and furious. Every day new stories emerged. New horrors. Unprecedented, they told us. They told us the same thing last year… and the year before that. We took no heed. No one wanted to go back, only to move forward. We had achieved so much. We had done so much good in the world. But did we need such abundance to lead a fulfilled life? Did we need such greed?

As the sun rises on a new day, I am reminded of how life was. How it could have been, if only we had chosen to live in harmony with nature. If only we had paid attention to the warnings. Still… there is always hope. Isn’t there!