Thursday, 27 January 2011

From the moving train...

I'm currently having a little break from Uni.

Examinations week...well...fortnight, is happening at the mo...and I've done my one exam! So I've decided to pop home for a few days.

The past few weeks have been a bit tough and I felt like I needed to get away for a bit. I think I'm going to go for a walk tomorrow.

I've been writing beginnings of songs and then not being able to finish them because my feelings have changed halfway through.

I took the train and then the boat back to the Island. Even though I get nervous about travelling alone, I enjoy the thinking time that I get.

I think about the people at the station, I think about the things that we pass as I look out the window...

Today, after we had left the station I looked out the train window and saw some interesting things.

I saw a little cottage. - Derelict - the roof had collapsed, and it was about the size of a room. It sat neatly within the hillside, surrounded by trees with broken branches, and their silhouettes were emphasised by a very grey, wintery sky.

It was a sorry sight, and I only saw it for about a second, but the image was so enchanting that my mind couldn't help but fill it with colour.

I wondered who had lived in the little house and whether children played in the branches of the trees, or just one person lived there to escape from existence. It must have been a very secluded place to be...and I guess the seclusion would have been emphasised by the constant passing of trains...

The trains keep going, but you're not on board.

Looking at this cottage from the train I felt quite peaceful...I was picturing this scene, but I was moving. I was not a part of it. I was travelling...moving forward...and I felt good about this.

Even though the past few weeks have been tough, they have been necessary. I have learnt from them, and I know which direction I am going in. Forward. I will be Holly - and I will keep discovering who she is.

As someone said to me recently: Life is a journey, you can't be static.


Larry said...

How wonderful to hear your thoughts. Yes, we do learn more and more as time passes. Insights to ourselves included. You are such a good storyteller. I had a vivid picture in my mind as you described your journey. Hope you have a most wonderful break! :)

mercury said...

'Derelict'-what a beautiful word. Sent me on a journey and I found this:

Uncle Tim said...

Nice to hear from you again. I've been listening to "Island in The Rain" (by The Men They Couldn't Hang) quite a bit recently. It seems very appropriate - "This time of year it rains on every empty beach", lol - have you heard that one?

mercury said...

Seltsam - Gibt es einen abgeschiedeneren Ort als einen alten Blog-Beitrag, einen Abschnitt einer Festplatte, auf der ein Text steht, den niemand mehr interessiert. Wenn wir nun aber diese alten Gedanken wieder einbinden könnten in etwas Lebendiges, Zeitloses, einem klassischen Roman ähnlich, der immer wieder von Neuem gelesen wird und immer wieder zum Denken anregt. Ein Recyling alter Gedanken, in einen anderen Kontext gestellt.

Wir brechen ja sonst in Rastlosigkeit auf, zu immer neuen Ufern und kaum sind wir dort, verlassen wir sie schon wieder und weiter und weiter treiben wir unser Schifflein über die Wellen.

Vielleicht berührt uns deshalb der Anblick von Ruinen so sehr. Wir begreifen unmittelbar, dass es eine Zeit vor unserer Zeit gab, eine wogende lebendige Zeit.
Dieser Text könnte so etwas wie eine Ruine sein, ein Fossil. Erst im Moment der Entdeckung erwacht er zu neuem Leben. Wir erzittern. Hatten wir uns selbst nicht zeitlos gedacht, unsterblich? Eine Ruine ist eine Provokation, ein Stein des Anstoßes.
Wie, wenn wir vor diese Ruine hintreten und plötzlich aus den Gleichgültigkeiten des Heute eintreten in eine erregende sinnerfüllte Vergangenheit?

Sind dies Alles nur Phantastereien, Ausgeburten einer überreizten Vorstellungskraft?