Of sound mind

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• Woke in Elaine Bay. Left by 7:30 for French Pass - more positive expletives made. The road winding and perilous, among tawny undulations of spectacular beauty. Remote and outlandish, hardy and fair-weathered.
• Next evening's intended camp at Robin Hood Bay aborted after dinner on the beach in last light - smoked salmon and radish sprouts on rice cakes. Tried to lay my tent, rearing to peg down for the night and it doubled over itself sideways in the gale.
• Continued on to White's Bay, going full circle from Thursday. Wise move. It's gentle, warm. Kids still run and play on the beach. The sunset and the risen moon in what Henry Miller called 'an atmospheric duet.' 
• I climbed the outcrop at the end of the cove to see the sun peel off - sat on rocks at the top, peering over the other side at wild sea spluttering deepest blue. Dozens of gulls wheeled overhead in shambolic formation, just missing a clip of each other's wings and looking like ash rising and floating from the fiery spectacle below. Stood on the sand and said with a sincere reverence: thank you for restoring my wonder....

January was like a real summer budding. 
With a meld of transport and accommodation choice proving how almost silly accessible a cross-country leg stretch can be in this little paradise of ours. So too, the convenience of the family car, the profundity of plane rides, the open arms of relatives and generous friends, and the liberation of a pack up-pack down life as one settles into a brief solo camping excursion. 

At the airport, ready to go home, we south-bound passengers were compliant with our masks on. Again confronted by the automated audio recording which plays intermittently as the luggage carousel spits out our bags, outlining the expectations for safety conscious travel. The subduedly toned woman imploring us, as ever, to keep our physical distance, call a health line immediately if symptoms arise, and please sign in with the tracer app when we can.
The new way has been real for almost a full year now, and I’m starting to notice how automatic the systems, requirements, and obligations all feel. This precautionary rhythm is showing no hints of reverting. Signs and billboards are well integrated into our rhetoric and visual narrative - no longer shabby, knock-up signage to meet the urgent and changing state. Now, slick infographics crafted by in-house design teams, algorithmic wizards; with chat-bot response panels and rules for a complaint existence inside our hyper-sanitised, sick-sane world.

I've been holding fast to those italicised travel logged words above for a distraction this week. To focus in on what lovely aspects still beckon us away from the repetition of a gloomy collective 2020 dialogue cycle. I want as best I can to pay homage to the fractions and filaments that make for a steady exploration - both inward and outwardly. Marlborough Sounds being my touchstone for a ‘sound’ mind this time around…
In improvisation they teach a principle called "Yes, and.” It works by way of always being primed to accept whatever is coming, however offbeat and unforeseen it may be. When someone in a scene vocalises a statement, the recipient listener is encouraged to accept it as truth and remain curious in the unfurling of a new momentum. Although I do see the perils in reaching for this approach when it comes to the many and various questionable assertions being tossed in the air right now, I think there is virtue in the ephemeral aspect of it - the unspoken, energetic, storybook-narrative quality of living we are kind of remiss in acknowledging.
With no guesses as to what's next for me personally, and for all of us globally, I'm thinking 'Yes, and' might be the most honest way of ensuring we still keep some humour and surprise in our mind's eye for where the grand plot line may lead.