Solace for Deep Weariness

Deep weariness is a feature of my life. There must be so much out there to explore, to enjoy but sometimes I prevent myself from even looking.  It all seems such an uphill effort.

I used to think the trick was to be constantly seeking the new, the unexplored and to avoid old pastures which have become too dull, too boringly familiar.  But, as the phrase goes, “the grass is always greener”.


Exercise certainly helps these unconstructive moods and I almost invariably feel better afterwards.  Yet there remains a persistent and tedious melancholy at my core.

The danger in an existence such as mine is to be forever chasing the end of the rainbow. Different countries, different jobs have in the past always proved alluring but inevitably fail to achieve their object. Such change always seemed to hold out the answer, the way; it did not.

I have reached a stage where deep, deep quiet is usually the best solution.  I remain high in my ivory tower looking out at the ants and the bees in the “real” world. They buzz, they scamper, they build their anthills and their honeycombs and presumably find satisfaction in their endeavors ( a recent New Scientists suggests that indeed bees may have consciousness, qualia).


The solution is probably to buzz like a bee and to build like an ant. Metaphorically speaking anyway.

The commune has always held an (ignorant) appeal for me. Pottering around in a monastic garden hoeing weeds, weaving baskets, making Buckfast Wine for the Glasgow winos. Ignorant because (a) I have never tried it and (b) I don’t like being in contact with others very much, if I can possibly avoid it.


But a garden of one’s own may well be something different.  Il faut cultiver notre jardin.  Or engaging in handcrafted woodwork in a quiet shed, or leather book binding.  Surrounded by nothing but the noise of birdsong or perhaps the gentle susurration of the waves.

I’m sure there is peace to be had and I have often found snatches of it. The big trick is to make it last.  Just looking at the pictures on this page gives me a sense of what might be achieved; they give me a sense of quiet joy.



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