What a difference a few weeks can make and how powerful the influence of the season upon the mood. If ever evidence were needed that we are mere creatures of nature, there be it.
I wrote a while ago of winter. A mournful season where all is death, even if, like the gods of old, life is programmed to rise again. As the planets revolve around the nuclear fireball which has given us life. As we witness the slow, diurnal march of birth towards death, and death to re-birth.
I have not written for quite a while. A couple of months have ticked by and l have wondered whether I have anything left to say. Or if I have, whether it is worth saying. Or indeed if I want to say it.
Now more than ever, I write for my own purposes. Let those who wish to read, do so if they will. If they find any meaning here or my words help them to elucidate their own deliberations then so much the better. But I will have served my own selfish purposes by keeping this diary of my endless search.
Endless. I wonder. Clearly not, unless I can make claim to immortality, but that would be a step too far for me. I make no such claim and while I sense great mystery in the universe, I make no pretense of an idiosyncratic afterlife.
Despite the cold chills of winter and the darkness of the days, February and early March were times of growth in my life and thoughts. Gradually the blackness, which so often clouds my mind, lifted. Light, metaphorically speaking, pierced and illuminated the clouded recesses of my spirit. The unilluminated waters of the storm and the rage and howling of the wind began to quieten.
For how long the fairer weathers last, who can say. Not I alas, but I will enjoy the warmth and bathe in the light of gentler thought while I may.
There were times over the months of cold, black winter when a terror seemed to fill me. A deep pessimism and fear of life itself. Of the world and all that dwells in it.
I am a seeker and in truth I know my way. But it is all too easy to loose sight of the sky on life’s journey through often dark and impenetrable woods.
Perhaps the day will come when darkness is banished and its hold removed for good.