Today I ventured out for the first time since my foot injury stopped me walking a few weeks ago. I really didn’t go far, just a few kilometres, out into the fields closest to town.
I found it amazing just how different the landscape of the surrounding agriculture has become in just three short weeks. The wheat is turning distinctly golden and susurrates rather than swishes because the hairs on the ears are getting drier. A whole new crop has been born, rising out of the ashes of the land where before only thistles flourished. The beets are looking lush and rich – so amazing to think of the sweetness developing in the darkness of the ground under the greenness of its leaves, nourished by the sun and the rain. Picardy has been known for its production of sugar beet since Napoleonic times! The larks carried on giggling their warnings to me from on high though, that hasn’t changed.
Change is the only constant in life, as someone wiser than me said long before me. Contemplating the way change happens in nature reassures me in ways I didn’t think were possible. When you stay still enough to see the changes creeping along in a slow, almost imperceptible but inevitable way, you realise that you neither can, nor should stand in change’s way, nor should you be afraid. Religions give different ways to think of time. Christianity is most definitely end-point driven, but Buddhism is about cycles. I find solace in both ways of thinking.