Posts tagged scotland
Those Jam Jar Moments

Have you ever found yourself in a moment that was so perfect you felt too frightened to even breathe for fear it might be broken? A brief, profound instant when you felt completely aligned and in harmony with your surroundings? So submerged that it seemed as though the physical world had paused around you? These moments of utter contentment are so fleeting and most of the time we never really remember them. We cherish the moment and then move on to the next chapter of the day, often without a backward glance. Whilst these brief, beatific seconds don’t tell the full story of our lives, they are like tiny snippets of colourful fabrics, which when sewn together create a quilt, a glimpse of our journeys and heritages. Over the years we have found many ways to record our daily lives, from ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs to the advent of photography, each of us documenting our lives and the societies in which we have lived to help fill the history books.

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Queen of the Flask

The afternoon light was already beginning to fade by the time we reached it. The clouds were gradually descending and enveloping the hills in their mist until they floated just above the loch, transient and ethereal. We lit the stove and candles and settled in for the night. There is something so mystical about sleeping in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. You absorb and assimilate the very air that surrounds you. You are forced by the rhythms of your environment to slow down and adapt to its pace. But you are not lost. There is just enough peripheral sound to keep you conscious of each moment. You transcend your physical shell as your spirit stretches and spreads out to fill the void around you. It is one of the best night’s sleep you will ever have.

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When the Skylark Sings

As my heart filled with the sights and sounds of the world awakening around me, I drove further. I ventured out to the north of Perthshire, following old bridle paths and nature trails. I took off my navy jumper, tied it around my shoulders, exposing the skin of my arms and and the gentle folds of my stomache through my colourful breton top. I was happy. I was fulfilled. I felt as though I was seeing the world for the first time with the eyes of someone who had lived as a silhouette for far too long. As I climbed over gates, and searched for paths, I felt the weight of my worries lift from me. It was springtime and I overwhelmingly pleased to see it.

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A Place to Belong

'I lived a 'suitcase existence' never forming an emotional attachment to any of the places we were sent to because I knew my time there was temporary. On our arrival at any new quarter, I would quickly unpack our boxes, place furniture and objects around the rooms and hang curtains and pictures. After a while this process became almost automatic, perfunctory. My only aim was to get sorted as quickly as possible so we could get on with the day to day routines. I wasn't building a home as such, I was simply filling the abandoned spaces with familiar things, which would one day be packed away again. '

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