Jane Metcalfe

Back in March when we suddenly went into Lockdown number 1, it was a shock on many levels and yet it brought with it unexpected rewards. I had not taken such a long time off work for many years, apart from a month in August, invariably filled with people to visit and things to catch up on. So an enforced break was entirely different. It gave me “permission” to do what I love best: to walk and contemplate; to indulge, guilt-free, in photography, writing and reading. The result of this was a series of posts on my facebook page writing about what I discovered on my walks, accompanied by photos. You could call it a diary. It is a kind of unfolding of my experience, inner and outer, of that unprecedented time, when life as we knew it suddenly stopped My intention is to publish it at some point, but publicising my book, Things in Heaven and Earth, is my main focus at the moment. However, I thought it would be nice share to my walks now and then. Here is one about my favourite tree:

April 28th 2020
After most of the previous day without water due to a faulty pipe in the main reservoir, I woke up this morning to sputtering taps clearing their pipes, much the same as I do first thing before my breath flows smoothly. It was raining and I felt that little slump of disappointment in me after weeks of sunny walks. By 10.30 it had turned to drizzle and off I went. I was immediately struck by the plants: sharp and glistening, as thankful to bathe in water as I had been earlier.

There were very few people out. I went into the park to visit my favourite tree for a spot of tai chi (an unintentional rhyme). Afterwards I was marvelling at the strange vein-like streaks in its trunk. I hadn’t noticed them before. Then at the base was a little patch of foam emanating from the point where trunk met earth. I bent down to look and of course took a photo. As I walked down the path a man with an elderly dog, who was dutifully sniffing at a plant, asked why I was taking a photo of the trunk base. I confessed to being curious. He said there was probably some damage and this was the sycamore’s reaction. Sycamore! I hadn’t known! Now my favourite tree had a name! We talked at distance for a while as he waited for his 18 year old dog to finish her foraging. “She doesn’t like to come out” he told me. He spoke wistfully, as though feeling the imminent loss of her and, perhaps too, of his excuse for leaving his four walls behind to dwell awhile in this – Nature’s open-plan house.

I love this peek into people when they reveal quite unintentionally a good heart, a passion, a sensitivity that calls to me on a deep level. This is real connection.

I stopped to look at the drops of rain fanning out between the lily pads on the little lake then on to the seafront and a half tide with four cormorants lording it, each on their own reptilian rock. And finally this lone man gazing out to sea.

Rain. Water. Sea. Connections. Where would we be without them?

I have periods when I need to go into myself, to assess the confusion that arises from the conflicting information that presents itself in the form of opinions and beliefs. Who is right and who is wrong? Why do I lean towards one side more than another? This is a perfect time to be in the arena of the world. We have been thrown to the lions with no audience but ourselves. We watch from our tiered seat as we use all the tactics we can to avoid being snapped up in the jaws of the lion. It is a slow motion scenario, so there’s time to calculate our chances of survival, and that means questioning deep-held beliefs: on the surface and under the surface and above the surface. In short,a holistic approach to problem solving. Let’s be clear, if we are thrown to the lions (and we are on a daily basis!) do we have time for being right or wrong? And yet it is here where the opportunity, the potential for change occurs. We are in the arena now and always have been.

Where am I in all of these fine words? This is the point. My thoughts about life – what’s happening on many levels in the world right now –  are just thoughts about it. They are not “it”. They are based on old drivers of belief, of childhood versions of right and wrong, both individually and collectively;  political and spiritual. They beg the internal question: Who am I in all of this? I find when I look at my day to day life and  the encounters I have, whether in person, phone, Zoom, or the written word, who I am is revealed. I don’t act from a belief. I act from a deeply visceral response to each situation as it arises. I don’t use a fine mathematical problem to calculate my response. I may use shielding techniques that make for a shallow connection, but if I act from what arises in whatever present moment I’m in, I find there is a seamless sense of joining. In short,  the rampant lion becomes my best friend. Not an enemy to be feared or to fight. These are just inadequate words to express something that is so present that it cannot be conveyed by the words themselves. At best a whiff of it will stop us looking for something to believe in or an opinion to hold on to, but rather, by looking deeply at the learnt beliefs we hold, we can free ourselves to act in the presence of danger (which, let’s be honest, is around us all the time!) and to be seamlessly connected.

Having said, all of this is about our own inner integrity. If we can court and marry that, we cannot not change what is going on “out there”, whatever our beliefs and opinions! When called upon, we simply need to be prepared to respond with our deepest  connection to one another.  Even in duality we can act as if we are one…and then the lion will lie down with the lamb.

This is a time for wondering as well as its first cousin, pondering. As everything changes on a daily basis, I hear people saying things like, “Just when I thought it was getting back to normal”, or, “How am I supposed to live?”, as yet another draconian ruling is made that seems to solve nothing except cause more distress and economic ruin. It is becoming ever more clear that those setting the rules are shooting in the dark,  perhaps prompted literally by darker forces (take that as you will, but I do a lot of exploratory reading and viewing). It seems that there are two camps: those who follow the rules and perhaps even believe this virus to be as deadly as the Spanish Flu, and, in the other camp, the so-called conspiracy-theorists (an absurd term clearly ascribed by camp one to cover anything that doesn’t fall in line with their narrative!) who believe a wide range of things from the “sensible” end of holistic health, to the furthest, Blade-Runneresque end of a global re-set. Social media of course is, as ever, a tapestry of voices that are as multi-coloured as Joseph’s famous coat. We are literally dazzled by this constant array of, to quote the bard,  voices “full of sound and fury”. if you know the rest of that quote then mentally add it now! Yes we now all know – and if we don’t we haven’t been engaging with any social media – that George Orwell’s vision is apparently coming true. Most writers of what we call science fiction, have predicted events or states (in all senses), often well into the future at the time of writing. But when that future meets the present, we see how visionary many of these writers were. I recall watching 2001: A Space Odyssey in the late sixties when it dovetailed somewhat with the moon landing. Both are indelibly stamped on my memory, as I felt something momentus had happened. It was like dreaming a fabulous or insightful dream where one actually says to oneself from within the dream “I must pinch myself so that I remember it.” Invariably that works. One sort of knows when a truth – however and whatever type of “truth” – shows up before it’s happened.

On Sunday 13th I held a launch for my book in my home town. Despite the current climate I felt I wanted to mark the occasion and what better place to hold it than a large open garage-cum-art gallery, directly beneath where I live? Funky Art was recently transformed from a storehouse for an upmarket junk shop, to a gallery that represents a spectrum of local artists. With so much space and room to stand in the open, it was a perfect venue for social distancing requirements. I invited 40 and prayed for good weather. My prayers were answered: the sun shone, nearly everybody turned up, some from far and others closer to home. Prosecco and goodwill flowed equally. People were glad to responsibly mingle the day before further restrictions would have prevented the launch from happening.  The highlight for me was the performance of the two charismatic actors who brought excerpts from the book alive in a semi-staged reading. We are so blessed in my neck of the woods with creative talent. Hastings was once described as “a poor man’s Brighton.” Interestingly it is that very fact that brought a host of creatives to its threshold. It was (not now!) a cheap place to live, and its biggest attraction was the sea. Yes, Brighton had captured that market too, once upon a time, but soon became known as “little London.” And now, here we are in the crazy little towns (separated only by an invisible demarcation line a short walk East from Queen Victoria’s imperious statue) of Hastings and St Leonards. But I digress.

The launch was a focal point for me; something to help Things in Heaven and Earth sail into the world on its maiden voyage. I have no idea where it will go and how many it will reach, but so far the feedback has been, on the whole, positive, the story clearly capturing the imagination of some and intriguing others.  I have been a little apprehensive about reader’s reactions to the sections that are of a deeply spiritual nature, but it is this, in my mind, that gives true value to a story that highlights the different levels of human connections and interaction.  In my ongoing quest to define the book, I have come to see that overall it speaks of a love beyond the limited definition of human love. We have only to fall in love to know that something utterly overwhelming has ripped us out of our habitual life and given it meaning. It’s what happens after the fuss has died down that challenges us and we may find ourselves yearning for a more meaningful, deeper, ever-present love. It is the restrictions of being human that frustrates, and yet Colin and Dee’s experience reveals the potential for”meeting” this all-embracing love. As someone wise once said: if it’s happened once, it can happen again.  Simply put, the story of Colin and Dee and what happened after their initial explosive meeting, gives love a whole new meaning.

Those who are not engaged by Things in Heaven and Earth keep silent. And that is fine. Reading  it prompted one reviewer on Amazon to write, “The book is interesting in that it is able to be read purely as a romantic story about two people on one level and yet it has far deeper things to consider almost constantly as one reads.”

Next up is another learning curve – the business of serious publicity!

The author finds time to laugh                        Funky Art Gallery – the stage is set

Rachel McCarron, starry-eyed as Dee                                                 Jonny Magnanti embraces the text