But of all the water’s secrets, he saw today only a single one – one that struck his soul. He saw that this water flowed and flowed, it was constantly flowing, and yet it was always there; it was always eternally the same and yet new at every moment!
Hesse
I don’t live by a river; but, I do live by a wood. I can see it from my window, and every day I walk through it. I see it in all its seasons and have come to know, love and appreciate it. It is a source of beauty, comfort and joy, literally and metaphorically. It stirs my spirit, provides fuel for my home, and the materials for my work.
It is not primordial, but arose from a vision, the desire of an individual to create and cultivate beauty, to watch it grow, and to provide for the needs of man. A work started, but never to be seen completed, or in the full fruition of its vigorous and abundant glory.
Like the patrons who set about building the cathedrals of medieval Europe, the vision is all that was known – the work was taken up and continued for many decades and centuries, by generation after generation of workers and craftsmen. They laboured, tended and created, to nourish the soul, elevate the spirit, and instill a sense of wonder, awe and reverence. Most never got to walk through the great open welcoming doors and behold the dream become real.
Like some of those magnificent buildings of long ago, the wood has been forgotten, left to nature – to be the plaything of badgers, foxes, birds, numerous insects and the occasional cow. When I disturb its peace and walk through it I can see where it was once worked – the areas of long redundant coppice, those great seasonally moving windows that allowed the warmth and light to penetrate and start again the process of rebirth and growth. They have become overgrown, tangled and twisted – covered in the ravages and decay of time. But, some light still penetrates and illuminates, falling in thin shafts creating shadows that move with the breeze, drawing only the bluebells and orchids upwards.
Around the edges, like great buttresses, supporting and protecting all within, there are massive Oak and Ash trees, their vigour long passed, waiting for the final storm of winter. On a rise at the centre of the wood is an ancient White Thorn grown into a twisted, almost sculptural form as it rises up stretching for light and warmth; it is quite beautiful. It has, perhaps, seen every season of the life of this wood, rooted in the flow of time, of life.
From the first day I set foot in it, the wood has been my Cathedral.
So, a little while ago I threw open the doors of my Cathedral, allowing the light to flow and fully illuminate the beauty within. I cleared the overgrown path leading to the ancient Thorne at the heart of the wood; it has become an aisle leading to the Altar, a place to stand in quiet reverence. Over the coming seasons I will reopen the windows allowing the light to penetrate, to revive, and reinvigorate the wood, enabling the first fresh regrowth in many decades. Light, air and life will again flow through the wood. I will continue to watch it and take home its bounty – some for fuel and some for my work.
While pondering the woods, the flow of time, and my place in it, I began a chair. Like time and the river, it began to Flow………..
I’m happy with where it took me.
The wood will be around long after I am gone, and, with a bit of luck, some gentle use, a little bit of care and attention, the chair will be, too.