the march is over
the great destroyer
she passes through you like a knife
– lyrics from silver rider by low
After months of not writing, anything, at all, here on my blog, here I am. Again.
My excuse, well one of them anyway, for my prolonged absence has been my wrestling (procrastination) with a theme for my writing. I have a story to tell, a good one I think. Well, actually, I know it is. My challenge has been this. How much of the story that I have do I want to tell? Will there be consequences from the telling of that tale, intended or otherwise? Am I prepared to open my soul in the way that I feel I would like to? Will anyone care one way or another?
I will, eventually, I
think hope, write more here in the coming days about my response to the current situation.
You know, that one.
Part of my response is the fact that I am writing, and will publish, these words. I don’t plan to edit my writing much, an experiment perhaps in letting the words show me the way. Maybe I will come to regret that, maybe not, we will see what we will see, no?
Over the last month I decided to start recording my thoughts, feelings and experiences in a journal on my MacBook Pro. Using Day One if you are interested in such things. And wow, did I pick an interesting time to do that.
I am writing this using my absolute favourite app for writing iA Writer. White screen. Plain text. Only current sentence highlighted. Total. Focus.
Writing it looking through the net curtains shading the window of my hotel room in Accra. The hotel in which I am now the only guest and which will probably close tomorrow. My heart goes out to all the staff here who have treated with so much consideration and kindness throughout my stay.
An empty road outside, birds alone continuing their business as usual. No flight cancellations for them. Unlike at Kotoka airport, just a short taxi ride away, from which all international flights in and out will be suspended from tonight. The majestic Sahara, so beguiling from my airline seat on so many flights, now a very hard barrier between me and home.
An adventure awaits.
About which I will write here.
At least that is the plan.
At the moment.
A random thought. About onions.
In recent months, when mulling over how to tell my tale, I concluded that I would write about onions. How, when an onion is peeled, the core becomes exposed gradually, fresh and juicy the inside opens up to us as layers of protection are removed, one by one. We are all going to experience that very soon as our world changes and we find ourselves focused on what lies beneath, as the layers are stripped off, painfully almost certainly.
We will discover who we are as we work together to face what lies ahead of us.
Much depends now on how each and every one of us rises to the challenge we face.
Our planet has a message, are we listening?
Will be kind and considerate?
Will we look after each other?