People around the world have been blogging yesterday and today about their most beautiful things, to mark Fiona Robyn’s new book.
Now I have to confess I have not got into the spirit of this, and haven’t read enough other posts. Those I have read are beautiful and moving and full of insight. But i got stuck on other stuff. Gillian Wearing (see the last post). Visiting the very lovely modernist creation two friends have made of a Victorian terrace in South London. The sunshine over Hungerford Bridge. The extraordinary efficiency of London Transport. The fact that I am very nearly free of work. The immense care and skill shown by the staff of the London Whitechapel Hospital over my blasted finger. The love in my partner’s voice as we say goodnight on the phone (as we’re 100 miles apart).
All the same, off and on, I have thought about this over the last week or so. I’d like to show Pip on the wheel of our boat, with my writing notebook in the foreground, to try and capture the three legs of the tripod of my life. I don’t have that picture. We will not be sailing Roaring Girl this summer, as I can’t grip a rope, so I can’t even promise to post it in 2012.
My most beautiful thing is the promise of freedom, the wind filling our sails, adventures promised below the horizon when our skill and patience, the wind and tide take us there, and the stories to be told along the way. May the moon light your path, and your dreams take you where the wind wishes you to go.