I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream of warm impermanence and
So the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the sameBowie
The world around is is constantly changing. The blues of the spring woodland floors have long gone, the crops and long grasses now rustle golden under the baking summer sun.
Furlough continues to make the attribution of a name to the days meaningless. If you mention to anyone that you’re on furlough people all tell you how wonderful it must be, but you know what, it really isn’t. Anxiety over redundancy is brought on by feelings of somehow not being of use, not needed, but also just not being involved in the planning for something you’ve invested thirteen years of your life into.
Some changes are looked for and anticipated, others dreaded. With all change however, I find the frustration comes from not knowing and waiting.
So here I sit, I could be unfurloughed at a days notice, I could be given my redundancy notice along with hundreds of other National Trust staff at the end of July. The unknowns are the hard bit.
So I’ve done my planning, I’m just going to make a start on something I’ve been meaning to do for decades. I’m intending to take off and walk the 630 miles of the SW coast path with tent and sleeping bag on my back. It’s my intention to write a book about change based on the trip, particularly Climate Change.
I’ve been fundraising for the food and kit do do the trip here, and having just got the notification that my pay is being cut from August onwards this support has become even more important:
I don’t know if I’ll get to do it all immediately, I’m only planning one week at a time for now. It’s all I can do and better to act even if that action is restricted, it’s a change that I can at least take some little control over.
Time may change me
But I can’t trace time
I said that time may change me
But I can’t trace timeBowie