Spring is slowly unfolding and most of the trees are still putting out their leaves, but one just outside my window is well and truly out, in the full dress of summer. Winter has felt long, so gazing at this tree creates association in multiple directions: forward to summer, backwards to last summer, far back to other summers, and also associations with shade, woodlands, birdsong, walks, people.
My mind seems to be in an associating mood. I rode back through Burble Park last night and the recently re-laid curves of the landscape with the modernist blocks all around took me back, not to my past, but to pasts depicted in films, in books. It was what the future used to look like. The crows that live in Burble Park flapped alongside me to remind me that that future died, but it was still possible to read the good intentions in the landscape.
My mood lifted soon after writing the last journal entry. I went out to a dinner, a feast in fact, in a Persian restaurant. The food was mouth-watering, course upon course of it, until the sight of dessert made us groan. The company too was good, and I left there with the dark mood of the day entirely gone. Good food and good company is the solution to many of life’s problems, at least for a while.
Still, after a relaxed day I am now sitting listening to a podcast on the commons, and thinking about how easy it is to burn out when fighting for things that few others are fighting for. Sometimes I wonder if I should stop and simply record what is happening. A rational person would admit that our society is too big and monstrous to be affected by a mere individual. In theory collectives are the answer to that problem but, at the risk of stating the obvious, you need a lot of other people. But I find that if I stop fighting I stop learning, and I very much enjoy learning. And in fighting, comrades are also found. So I’ll continue, even if there are days I can’t see a way through to the future. Perhaps I should integrate the politics with more good food. Why not?