There are times, and now is one of those times, when it seems that everyone in the world is moving along at a rate of knots so great that one can hardly keep up with them. Today I have spoken to no less than three people whose lives are in a total maelstrom of activity, chaos, and terror that what they need to achieve will never be reached. I watered a plant, jotted a few dates in a diary and was otherwise useless to them. I put the kettle on, had a cup of tea with them, while theirs went cold and they continued running about. I think I feel it most because I am becalmed at the moment. Nothing is happening at all. My latest book is finished but no publisher is reaching out urgently to read it. All of those closest to me are either moving into new houses, new jobs, new grandchildren, new relationships, and I drift along without any new ideas and hoping and waiting for something that is so nebulous I can’t actually identify it. A still centre whilst the storm rages round me I am aware that the vortex which tumbles around me is in fact unavoidably something to do with me being in the middle of it. Does that mean that I create the chaos? How we connect I don’t know clearly but the inner stillness and the outer chaos are inextricably linked to one another.

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