As Lanto has said isolation is an illusion for in truth you are never alone. I have often spoken of our journey for the last ten years as a time of solitude and our communicators have called it a time of dryness. The solitude for me was a physical reality since I could not speak even to our closest neighbours in their own tongue and those of my own kind were difficult to find, at least of like mind!

But isolation need not be solitude for you can be isolated in a crowd. Isolated that is if you feel unknown and unknowing of the others that surround you, however, your isolation can be the solitude that you seek in order to bring you the peace that you desire.

Strange to say, but peace takes many forms and certainly when you experience the expansive nature of inner peace you will know that there is no such thing as isolation, solitude or being alone when peace fills your being, when you feel peace on every breath and every step you take, whether in that crowd or alone in the wilderness, you begin to bask in the bliss of knowing.

On my walk in the wilderness with the breeze laden with rosemary, pine and thyme in every breath who could not be at peace? When the cocks crow their shouting match at dawn some would say their own peace was shattered whereas I hear only some of the myriad natural centring sounds that speak to me of peace.

Today has been one of those days of the tuning up of nature’s trees, shrubs and even electric cables all singing their different songs in the sighings of the western wind. When I sit in the sun I tune out their various vibrations and listen to the inner workings of this vehicle called by many names but here with pen in hand Hanukah.

To feel bliss in pain, exultation and all in between is the start of your journey into enlightenment. Imagine for a moment midwinter. The cattle have no chance to find food under the snow and so you spread the hay to help them on their weary way.
Or was it the ploughman who plodded home his weary way?
You don’t have enough room to keep them in all winter but come milking time you walk out with your trusty shepherd dog to call them in to the milking sheds and there they are all waiting at the gate.

It’s a cold day both their and your breath almost freezes as it explodes in clouds into the hard bright air. They need no calling, as the gate opens they follow the leader in and as your breaths mingle and you feel the warmth of their heaving sides they take their places in well accustomed stalls one by one for the process to begin.

The air is filled with the scent of mild disinfectant and then of fresh raw milk. Peace descends as the machines do their work that milking men and maids of old had done for centuries. The cattle come twice a day to give their bounty, they only complain when you are late to open the gate, for the rest all is as it should be and most times is. It’s only you and me that worry for we, beyond this tranquil scene where peace reigns, look both forward and back where worry holds sway. We question future and past when the cattle live in the now knowing that all is well.

Nature has much to teach and we still have much to learn or relearn. I never felt alone on the farm especially not with the cows whose names I knew by heart. I remember so well, at Uncle George’s place, the taste of the fresh milk passed through a fine strainer into a tin mug, still warm, unpasteurised, creamy and delicious.
With love for the simple life, Hanukah


About David

Devonian writer
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