I have been rather crippled by an unexplained pain in my hips, my lower back and my right knee. The body holds all memory so I have wondered if this was not a processing of the pain of previous accidents like that of 1995 when I was hit by a car as I was about to cross Merrion street upper in Dublin and found myself rolling over its blue metallic bonnet thinking my last hour had come. The pain and the resulting impossibility to do a lot of my usual daily activities have been dragging me down at times to a pretty low ebb : did I perhaps need to rethink my life in its core—I caught myself thinking—the life that includes on a daily basis a lot of physical activity as I smallhold on my own 4.8 acres of land, 4 goats, 2 mature hens and the 13 youngsters of various sizes that have hatched this year, 5 cuddly cats for whom I cook a weekly stew of bones and offal, and vast ambitious plans in the horticultural region.
My homeopath has hit on a good remedy and I am mobile again and slowly getting back into my stride, collecting fallen leaves to mix into soil, excitingly gathering hazels and apples, concocting some autumnal stuff that I will discuss here soon. This has been the year of the blackberry for me, never had I eaten so many before, returning every day from my early morning walk with purple fingers and seeds stuck stubbornly between my teeth. I found a few dead animals on the road, a pine marten, a little froglet, a mother badger, I dragged them unto the soft edge, bury them if I can, and wish them to be reborn into a being of their choice. Glad and grateful to be standing up again and not flattened on the tarmac, let’s make the most of that life of mine.