Thursday, November 5, 2015

There is a Place

There is a Place
There is a place, a place I run to, a place I escape to. It is not a real place, correction, it is a real place, but it is a utopian place, which is to say that it is a real place that I have in my mind transformed into a paradise of sorts. Understand that its transformation is not a physical but a mental, maybe even a spiritual, transformation. It’s a place in which there are no biting insects, no stinging nettles, no twisted ankles, no bad backs or grey hair. It’s a place that really exists but which my mind has idealised (but hopefully not idolised)!
There’s a Run Rig song that contains the words, “There must be a place under the sun where hearts of olden glory grow young!” It’s this place. It also the place “Somewhere over the rainbow … There’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.” Yes, it is a real place, but it’s a place in my memories. I am free to flee there.
It’s a place where I can go for long-walks, mind-walks. It’s a place of mental health relief. It’s a leafy place, a place of different shades of green. There are splashes of vivid colour. It’s an earthy place, and smells as such but the perfumes of flowers subtly pervade the air, borne on the wings of zephyrs.
There’s rustling in the leaves of the trees and soothing cooing as doves preen themselves. A feather, a downy feather, falls slowly to earth as my eye follow it. There’re bluebells in bloom. Their fragrance lifts me up and places me upon a mechanical walkway. I kind of glide effortlessly in my stride and approach clear pristine waters filtering over rocks and gravel as it meanders down from the hills above. I listen to the patter of its idle chatter. I stoop to drink but am distracted when I see a rainbow dart under a rock, a trout. I reach in my hand. The water is cool. The fish tickles my hand as I tickle its belly. Both of us laugh!
I feel the surface tension break as I gently pucker my lips and kiss the sparkling water. I want to drink you in! I love you! I caress the earth and pick up handfuls of leafy soil from the burn’s banks and hold up my hands heavenwards. Thank You! Thank You! My tears disappear as a summer shower suddenly washes them away! Salt of the earth. Apple of my eye! Water to water! Dust to dust! Earth to earth!
This place has entangled itself in my DNA. It has entwined my soul like ivy on an old castle wall. It is a real place but it is a surreal place. It’s a place through which I walk on bare feet without pain to my soles or pain in my soul. It’s a place in which my five senses are all primed. It’s a place where my mind works. A place where my cares are not snares nor my woes blows.
It’s a place where the angry bull is left at the gate, where depression’s feet are stuck in the grate. It’s a place of escape, a place where nothing can harm me. It’s a place where I’m safe. It’s a place where I have time to think. None can find this place in my mind. None but me!

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