Gloom descends over me like clouds.
Perhaps it is my fragile ego that has been damaged. Being salted with fire and having that salt in yourself is a difficult thing, it goes against all that we are in our new age of enlightenment.
I sometimes have to fight with myself to be content, discontent sneaks up on me and grabs hold of my mind. Discontent is the malady of our time.
I stubbornly continue to write letters to myself - I suppose in truth that is what these letters are, they are ostensibly about gardens and art - but more about trying to make sense of who I am. The world I inhabit consists of hills and valleys. The moon above and the cycle of day and night. I move only short distances during the week. I see and deal with many individuals. Like all my colleagues the week is filled with time pressures - and trying to have some empathy with those I connect with, but I struggle with that more and more.
I want to explain why I fall asleep watching TV programs about gardens, art or wildlife ...It is because I am exhausted by human need. The sight of sunshine and the sounds of nature are enough to take me away... no matter how 'great' or intellectual the presenter or the artistry portrayed.
This valley contains my life - overshadows it at times.
'Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.'
The only evil really is in my own thinking. There is a hard edged beauty to this place, and in it I try to heal and make art and a garden.