Night Rider

With great relief I didn’t have to trek to Kendal for once and had an admin day in Penrith. I sat in the office with the luxury of a window looking out on autumnal trees as I immersed myself in writing a case study for my application for a course. A rare opportunity to reflect a little rather than constantly trying to stay afloat and keep up with targets. I even walked into town at lunchtime to get something for a friend’s birthday. All good, and I plugged into Philip Glass to try my best to drown out the constant political stream of blogs and emails as we inevitably seem to be splitting under the guise of delivering values in a series of consultations sickeningly titled, ‘This is Us’. What with that and brexit....Sigh....

Once home I cycled out into the darkening evening and was particularly struck with how the limestone wall reflected the barest hint of pinkness that remained in the night sky. There was more pink in the wall than the sky, as if colour, like the day’s heat, had been drawn into it.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=M73x3O7dhmg

Evening - Rainer Maria Rilke

Slowly now the evening changes his garments
held for him by a rim of ancient trees;
you gaze: and the landscape divides and leaves you,
one sinking and one rising toward the sky.

And you are left, to none belonging wholly,
not so dark as a silent house, nor quite
so surely pledged unto eternity
as that which grows to star and climbs the night.

To you is left (unspeakably confused)
your life, gigantic, ripening, full of fears,
so that it, now hemmed in, now grasping all,
is changed in you by turns to stone and stars.