Let me be

Today I want the rain to fall.

Need the wind to meet my stride with resistance.

To feel something.

To know.

I laced up my walking boots with a frown. My fingers catch in the knot as I tie the laces tighter than usual. Tugging at the zip of my waterproof, my nail catches in the frayed seam beneath the zip. Not yet unravelled but threatening. A bit like my mind.

I need this walk today.

Throwing water, snacks and a flask into my rucksack, I made it to the front door without any further annoyances.

The journey was a familiar one until the final third where we turned towards a village we usually fly past when travelling along the A525. Pale memories of the sandstone church above the quaint high street hover into view, slightly out of focus. I’ve been here before.

The pretty raised beds outside the community hall give a cheery look to the grey and brown building. Volunteers in luminous yellow jackets tend to the earth and shout above the wind that tussles the tall poppies and daisies.

The short walk to the canal towpath is brisk, the wind harsh for mid-May but I push forwards.

I can’t say I’m the best walking companion today. It’s one thing to have a deep self awareness of oneself but it comes with a catch. I’m grateful that I know how I’m feeling, how I’m behaving, but with this self awareness comes the understanding that my actions will affect others. The guilt sears my throat.

In the past, I’ve swallowed the guilt and pushed down the pain I felt because I could sense other people’s discomfort in the presence of the cloud above me.

My pain was causing them to feel uncomfortable so I learned to ignore it, learned that others couldn’t cope when I wasn’t in Fixer mode.

I knew I wanted today to be different. I didn’t want to pretend that I was fine, or bury my feelings. Although I couldn’t see the way through the cloud, I knew that I had to put one foot in front of the other and trust that the path would reveal itself.

Turning my back to the quaint village pub with its empty picnic tables and Union Jack bunting, the towpath looked quiet but the canal was livlier, even in the early morning.

We’re approaching the summer season and the canal is busier than it was a few months ago. A handful of boats are moored beyond the final lock out of the fourteen along this stretch of the Shropshire Union Canal.

The gentle swish of a boat with cheery pansies in watercans catches my attention and I feel the tension along my brow dissolve into a smile. My wave is returned by the couple steering the blue and grey boat and I pause at this moment of connection. I wonder where they’re going, what their lives are like away from the serenity of the canal.

A lone border collie trots towards us, with no owner in sight. We’re subject to a cursory sniff and I feel a wet nose nudge at my hand. The bark startles me. The dog turns and begins to walk in our direction, turning back to look at us before issuing another bark.

We’re being led somewhere. I wonder if this makes us the stars of a modern ‘Lassie’ reboot, set in genteel Cheshire instead of the American wilderness of the original. My sense of humour is breaking through at least. The collie leads us to his boat, complete with owner who is thankfully alive and well and in no apparent danger.

What’s noticable about this stretch of the canal is the frequency of the bridges. Mostly curved and stout and made of pale grey brick, some carry the weight of cars, others just footsteps.

The invisible bridges are of most interest. The canal narrows sharply, surely too narrow for boats? A walkers perspective is skewed and we watch as a red and green boat makes its way through, albeit slowly. Clearly there used to be a bridge across the water but it’s no longer there, just open farmland on either side.

We pass a large marina, packed with boats of all colours of the rainbow. There’s marquees with tables and seats that will be filled come lunch time. The perfect getaway in these pandemic days.

The smart concrete path gives way to tufted grass and soft mud that squelches underfoot, forcing me to concentrate. The water’s edge is nearer as the path continues to narrow.

The wind carries the sweet scent of the hedgerows and geese call overhead. Breaking the silence, nature reminds me of her prescence. Undisguised and non-judgemental. Here I don’t have to be ‘on’. I don’t need to be someone I’m not. In the natural world different strengths are welcomed, encouraged and necessary to survival.

The sparrow is small and nimble enough to dive into the safety of the maze of the hedgerow when the rain’s heavy droplets begin to fall. The swan’s outstretched wings deter the Canadian goose from edging too close to the cygnets.

Here among the waning birdsong and the gathering wind, I’m able to be.

When the rain smudges my glasses and long wisps of hair escape from my hood, dampened by the rain, I don’t correct my appearance. I don’t add the veneer of a smile. I don’t need to. There is no judgement or expectation.

Instead I leave the cloud untouched, let the wind push me forward and place one foot in front of the other.

Image credit: "Trusty old walking boots" by Dan Cook Archived (dan-scape.co.uk) is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0