One day I'm visiting my sister and her beautiful garden, and the next day I'm helping an asylum seeker make headway with the incompetent, uncaring Home Office.
One morning I'm reading about the results of the government's chosen and unnecessary austerity policy on the sick and disadvantaged, and that afternoon I'm out on my bike, revelling in the summer countryside.
One day I'm editing my manuscript, and the next I'm helping to organise a hospitality day for survivors of human trafficking.
You wouldn't believe how many petitions I sign - mostly at the moment they're about immigration. The most memorable was one to stop the Home Office deporting a 10 year old boy back to Georgia because his mother had died. She had been trying to claim asylum for 7 years. The boy, who only speaks English, was being looked after by his grandmother in Scotland.
Yesterday I came across this tweet and it spoke to my condition:
Last week, though, I was stressed and finding it difficult to relax, and then I realised that I'd not been writing. Sitting quietly in my room, reflecting and writing, keeps me sane. And unless I am sane, I can't help put out the fire.
View over my garden wall |
2 comments:
I hold the belief that doing that which makes us happy and well does more than keep us battle ready. It inserts what is good and clean and creative and positive into the universe. We need more of that , not less. And as i get older I feel more and more that we should do what we are called to do, that makes one most useful. Of course we need to hold the line. To keep clear on good and bad, right and wrong and act accordingly within our means and our calling.
Thank you, Marmee.
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