Cockermouth

It was difficult to stop feeling tearful this morning. As I left the house this morning the one hollow relief was looking at my husband’s photo and thinking at least he didn’t have to witness this rout. Back home this evening to the neighbours screaming at each other, yet again, but later cheered by Callum saying he might visit on Boxing Day. Just very sad we can’t be looking forward to him coming up together.

In the grand scheme of things we’ll all end up like Mars, I guess, but it might be a painful time getting there.

T. S. Eliot, East Coker

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=OacVy8_nJi0