Blog

23 Oct

Posted at 21:55h in Sarah's Journal by

They see me with dogs, pram and often a man before I see them. “Arrrrhhh, arrrhhh, arrrhhh!” They fly down from high territorial perches – the pylon, oak tree or planes by the Old River Lea. The first wave announce my arrival with more calls, then hop from foot to foot excitedly on the ground. Two or three stand on top of the goal post in a row. Their heads bob down and up again with each call. I bring suet or seeds and sometimes a special treat like popcorn. They are especially fond of pasta. There are around 30 crows in my regular crowd, but when the whole ‘Marshes Murder’ come there are up to 120 birds. I welcome their smart beady-eyed corvid appearance. Feathers – some tatty, mottled, a little threadbare – swoop in, take sudden flight if I move too fast. I welcome these shape-shifting portents of death and change. I come most days and in the cold months they bless my offerings with their community and their calls of acknowledgement “Arrrhhh, arrrhhh, arrrhhh!”

22 Oct

Posted at 22:19h in Sarah's Journal by

I am sitting writing on a train full of solitary commuters. It is the rush hour, and we avoid making eye contact. Many people of these same gaze-avoiders will have digital selves who seek connections – for hook-ups, companionship, romance and marriage. Many of us seek intimacy and touch, yet it is only seen in glimpses in public places. We display our revealing selfies and write our explicit desires behind closed doors. I love the audacious al fresco canoodle of this long-ago-teenage couple. What does genuine affection and tenderness look like? How do we find the kind of attention we really want to receive?

21 Oct

Posted at 21:31h in Sarah's Journal by

Pavement shrines spring up on the streets outside the formality of churches to signify an unexpected death, an accident or a brutal ending. On this particular corner the end of the working week is announced with a gathering. A member of this club has died. His end is celebrated like any Friday with Wray and Nephew over-proof rum. A Jamaican flag, his name, a photo have been taped round the tree where they meet in honour – RIP it reads. Flowers and candles are placed here to remember him. A balloon is now slowly exhaling. Is this the Jamaican tradition of Nine Night happening here, on the street corner?

20 Oct

Posted at 21:53h in Sarah's Journal by

I often feel that my most radical act is simply being friendly. When I am in ‘flow’ I can feel like human lubricant – easing social encounters and rippling smiles into the neighbourhood. I enjoy the moments of recognition, chance encounters and random conversations with strangers. I want to live in a world where we greet passers by, where each “good morning” or “good afternoon” offers a well-wishing and an opening. These small acts of benediction glue communities together. With each nod of recognition, I feel as though I am woven – with my not-black clothes, plaits and dog in a pram – into the fabric of the Hackney streets I roam daily.

19 Oct

Posted at 19:31h in Sarah's Journal by

In these moist grey autumn days, it’s time to gather and store conkers to keep me going through the dark cold of winter. What are my resources, my harvest of nuts? Each morning begins with a skin brushing before peeling on thermals. A few minutes of extra moving, stretching or dancing before breakfast cranks up my sluggish circulation. I will walk, breathing in nature with dogs and crows. At the end of the day a salt-water foot soak and self-massage works with sofa hour. In the winter months of ‘Persephone time’ I will sew and make things. I will eat warm winter soups and ginger tea. I will allow time to read, to steep myself in the pile of unread books under the chair by the bookcase as the nights draw in. Regular trips to the sauna with my over 50’s discount card will be a luxury heat top-up. At the end of short days I will inch closer to a lover or snuggle up with a hot water bottle.

18 Oct

Posted at 21:44h in Sarah's Journal by

We returned to the beach of the Thames to mudlark for bones and shells. We scooped water close to the outlet of the River Fleet. We sat, sensing the slice of history resting in the sediment. Animal bones, and broken clay pipes nestle alongside drift wood and bottle tops. A cross section of time lies in the water. The intersection of culture and faith meets here too – the Globe, Tate Modern and St Paul’s. We trundled then with our loads back along Millbank re-walking the streets walked these last twelve days. Our pilgrimage ended back in Trafalgar Square where we landed to make an altar with our harvest for the closing ceremony. We the Grief Listeners brought a group intention of dropping into the land, of space holding, of pause and reflection. Through all the complexities, imperfections and words, we did our best to “remember our love for this beautiful planet that feeds, nourishes and sustains us.”*
*From Extinction Rebellion’s Solemn Intention Satement.

17 Oct

Posted at 21:21h in Sarah's Journal by

‘Amazing Grace’ is the moment. Written by former slave trader John Newton (‘who saved a wretch like me’), who then converted to Christianity and subsequently condemned slavery. Voices lift in harmonies, hands flutter up. We sit as insignificant flames in the dark. With a tendency to hypervigilance, I find the scene unsettling. The sound of helicopters competes with churning fountains. The row of fluorescent yellow jackets stand guard. Incense wafts, the bells of St Martin in the Fields toll eight. A giant papier maché curlew stands, wings swaying. I sit on the cold stone floor of Trafalgar Square “touching the earth and allowing the earth to be all of me,” in Brian’s words. The mic is passed between faiths. Buddhists, Christians, Muslims, Jews, other faiths and the agnostics. Some display their professions on placards to dispel the myth of the jobless and “unwashed” (which someone shouted at me this week). I smile at an ‘unco-operative crusty’ wearing their identity as ‘Compliance Analyst’. This feels like the moment to be here.

16 Oct

Posted at 17:34h in Sarah's Journal by

My few remaining relatives are spread wide. Instead I have a small chosen family. These are the individuals who encourage me, who will be there through thick and thin. These are the few who know me well enough to tolerate my peculiarities, and who I am willing to give time and energy to. These are also the ones who laugh at me, and help me to laugh at myself. Angus and I laugh too at the memory of his aged Scottish grandmother who asked on first meeting me, “Who are your people?” Now we say to one another in recognition, “I am one of your people.”

15 Oct

Posted at 22:20h in Culture Reviews by

Naomi Klein lights the touch paper and sparks of recognition and accord fly. Her arguments – as ever smart and brilliant ignite the quintessential Guardian audience and me. I sit feeling the flame in my mid-fifties with my white face, greying hair and organic veg box deliveries. I feel as though someone who speaks truth to power is delivering my thoughts and also some of my not yet articulated opinions. “We need to raise the collective alarm, to grieve together and to plan together.” She talks passionately about the metaphor of fire both in its negative and positive aspects. “Maybe you’re carrying some trauma that needs to be cleared away. What is the debris that you need to clear away on the inside so that we can clear away the debris on the outside? We have to clear away the deniers, the distracters, the doomers, and most of all we have to clear away the debris of the dividers.” She says, “we will be facing more tests of our humanity,” and asks, “what are we willing to give up?” In praise of hope, “we need to tell better stories about what the world could look like. We need to be on fire”, she asserts. I already am, but her words make me feel more confident in raising my torch.
www.membership.theguardian.com/event/naomi-klein-in-conversation-with-katharine-viner-63565032724

14 Oct

Posted at 22:23h in Sarah's Journal by

Mick and Tony walk together in a big circle from their first meeting in 1986. ‘Fascinating chap’ Tony wrote in his journal in Melbourne, Australia. Signs change from one to two walkers. Mick, Tony and I find conversational ‘snaps’ – eldership, podcasts, colonisation, land and place. As Mick describes it, we explore the “zeitgeist connectivity overlaps” in the lines that stretch across the earth between us. Making the shift from I to we, from singularity to synergy, global alliances happen. Artists, travellers, activists are coming together face-to-face and sharing ideas. Like the historical silk-road, London is a thriving centre of creative culture. Right now it is the centre of my Venn diagram. People from many different communities are gathering here and pollinating ideas to seed and grow when they return home.