This Is This

“Another,” my fellow commuter nods, in a pause, towards to field over the road, “almost ethereal mist.”

These were the first words spoken to me this morning and it made a difference. I pointed out the hanging blanket of fog to him in the same space, at the same time yesterday. He said he’d never seen that before and we smiled at the mist as we waited for the bus to come.

Right now, a song by Kathleen Edwards has just come on, and the lyrics in the chorus said “So don’t get down, good things come when you stop looking when you stop looking.”

It’s a song I have never heard before, given to me this week by Roger from work because he thought I’d like it, free and for no other reason.

Right now, across the aisle of the bus, someone who is learning English is filling in speech bubbles over cartoon captions, under a title on the exercise sheet which says in bold letters: The Future And Degrees Of Certainty

I instantly know that is going to be the title of today’s post, which five minutes ago had no theme, title or words.

Yesterday wasn’t the best good day. A few things went wrong and I had no idea what to write about without sounding down and I don’t want to bring that onto you. I changed that a little last night by having omelet, drinking a good beer, watching the England match with the sound turned down while listening to an interview on NPR with the music director of The Simpsons. At the time I thought this summed me up pretty good, which is why I include it here.

The only thing I had written yesterday for today was this:

First frost’s coming on, and with it longer shadows and slim prospects.

It’s like I can already feel it, the turning of the final months, grinding like old gears until it’s just me and winter. I’ll win, but on points and punching above my weight.

The lack of daylight gets me, and it grows worse every year, almost as if the winters are getting longer and only for me, while others enjoy summer, although they may as well be on the other side of the world.

Which would have just brought you down. And now, that has changed, thanks to Kathleen Edwards and an ethereal mist and a headline across he aisle.

It’s important to remember how quickly things change. How emotions are the weather at sea.

I can be in one mindset, with nothing set in my mind, and look around, moment by moment and things grow different. The world can seem a little kinder, and I can have something to say that I might pass on to reflect those things here.

I can do that. I forget. On a cold autumn morning, maybe I can help.

The illustration is a painting called The Colours That Burn From Us by Dan Beard, reproduced here with his kind permission. Find out more about Dan and his work. He’s a brilliant artist and a lovely guy, despite or perhaps because of the adversity that comes with being my cousin.

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I think it’s great to believe in something as long as you are prepared at any moment to abandon your beliefs and do what you think is right.
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This entry was posted on Thursday, September 13th, 2007 at 7:43 am. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed, or you can skip to the end and leave a comment yourself.