To catch the wind
There was a busker in Norwich, singing to his guitar, and as I walked past, I found myself in a brief flood of tears. He was singing an old song, one redolent of the sixties and the protest movement, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J8hjEYTpwE8 Donovan’s Catch the Wind. It’s a very beautiful, poignant song, both words and music and it caught my aching heart for that moment.
I’ve not written a blog for several months. 2019 has been among the hardest years of my entire life, and it’s only ¾ done. Today’s the autumn equinox, that point where summer and winter pause, stand side by side, and after today, the light lessens and the darkness grows. I feel as though everything is growing dark: the political situation in my own country has riven the land in two, and the rift looks unlikely to heal any time soon. Further afield, the world is in turmoil. It feels as if everything is up for grabs. There are known liars and rapists in office, men (largely men but there are women too whose integrity is at best compromised and at worst, non-existent) who should not be allowed to run a raffle at a school fair, let alone a country. And my father died a few weeks ago. I cannot write of that, not yet.
I was born in the second half of the sixties, and my earliest memories are hazy and homely but I look back at the hope, and the energy, and the belief that we can make things better, and I shake my head and wonder where it leaked away. Then I hear of people like Greta Thunberg, and of the hundreds of thousands who have taken to the streets in my own land, of the millions beyond our shores, to protest and demand that we take action and change the terrible downward spiral of history. And a tiny flame of hope, no bigger than a seed pearl, begins to burn.
Donovan sang of the futility of trying to catch the wind. Yet suddenly, in writing this, I know how to catch the wind.
Hoist your sails, no matter how patched and ragged, and let the wind carry you where it will.
THanks Viv. That link took me back to my bursting out of belief, and all the similar songs of the time. This was another https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4NdsnFZm0X4 It didn’t /couldn’t survive what replaced it but Oh it was sweet while it lasted!
So sorry about your father!
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Blessed equinox! It’s so lovely to read your words once more Viv! I’ve missed them and thought of you now and then over the course of spring and summer. I’m so sorry to hear that this year is proving to be such a difficult one for you and to read of your father’s passing. Sending you much love and light in this dark times. Warm autumnal blessings, Deborah.
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Yes, catch the wind. Despite the fatigue of learning to hear with a cochlear implant, I got my butt to the Climate Strike on Friday with my favorite sign. The usual grey heads were there, joined by even more young students with signs and grins and hope. All summer, I raised Monarch butterflies and released many that will migrate 2500 miles (over 4000 km) to winter in Mexico. How improbable! They don’t question. They just ride the wind and soar. They’re my teachers.
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The wind, like our thoughts, can’t be caught, unless a message or a blessing comes along. Sorry you lost you dad. Mine went on his journey 1.5 yrs ago. This after many months of first needing me to arrange his care, and then not needing me when he felt better. The sweetest
thing he ever said when I last saw him a year before he died was … I want to be where you are … This slipped from his tongue despite himself.
I fondly remember Donovan, and the swinging 60s.
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Thank you for your blog post. I remember Donovan and the sense in the 60s we could do something special. Thank goodness for young Greta…
Very sorry to hear of your father – you are in my thoughts.
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Brilliant response to all the awfulness Vivienne, and so pleased you were up to writing it! As a teenager in the mid sixties, I recall that hopefulness very much. The seventies were actually a disappointment! I wish I could see exactly what ‘went wrong’ – bad pop music, bad fashion, as well as bad political situations! And then the eighties: a time of increasing wealth for those who were young and in work, (esp in finance in the City), but the miners’ strike, and Mrs Thatcher, and … well, there we went…
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It is always darkest before the light.
Just like in the 60s and the protests against the inhumanity of wars and hurtful actions of a few we were able to get by and overcome the despair and loss of values.
I too am grateful for 16-year-olds from foreign shores and the Parkland students from my country leading the way for all the world.
Nice to see you again my lady!
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Sorry to learn about your father, Viv. You’ve been through a lot but you’ve never given up – and I hope you’ll be writing your blog regularly once again. You too have been missed. TC.
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Shafali, my old friend, life’s been a huge huge struggle and I know I have dropped to ball with many friends and many activities. I am hoping that I’ll be able to build myself back up.
Life never gets easier, does it? xx
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No it doesn’t. But you’ll build is new you that’s a little different from the old one…and who knows, she might be someone you like better than the old you 🙂
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