Its been another traditional St Patrick’s day here – meaning the weather has swung wildly between blasts of warm spring sunshine and lashings of cutting wind and rain. Raw knees in the parade.
It’s made me thirsty for some reliably strong hot sunshine to bask in.
A few years ago, while I was on a residency in France – my everyday priority became keeping my thermostat regulated by dodging between extremes of heat and cool, light and shade. After a week or two, time in the scorchio sun became associated for me with blaring noise, being harrassed by a star. So a little goes a long way, I discovered.
Conversely, getting my ass into some deep shadow was so calming and silent – hassle became a distant burble – similar to being underwater.
I found the local church when I was out for a wander. It was partly below ground level and entering was passing into a space apart. The beating heat receded and cool darkness washed over. It was a cave to retreat to, illuminated by glowing Gothic windows.
The church was perfectly designed as a sacred space of retreat and contemplation, serving beyond any specific religious beliefs.