I had worked late, got home later and the insomnia set in. My 'fuzzy leg' feeling. I get up and have painkillers though it's not exactly pain it's... discomfort. And then up early for the first day of the dreaded.
It was actually pretty interesting - again with great teachers. Especially one Richard Ashcroft, whom I really liked.
At lunchtime, I did voiceovers for two clients and started one for the third that I would have to finish that night.
When the sessions were over, I cleaned the house a bit and then took the dog out. Fresh air. Some green. People. Honouring people. Smiles. Voices.
Just beyond the common land where the ponies graze, I heard the blackbird, singing, singing, to the hidden setting sun. He faced west and his voice shone with the hidden sun's glory. His beak as yellow as the daffodils.
I stopped, stirred for a bird. The achieve of, the mastery of the thing, as Gerard Manly Hopkins said.
Away from the world of people and screens to a world as ancient as myth and as magnificent. Forget the churned mud and falling down fences, I rose on the wings of birdsong.
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