Sea and Cliffs

This might be a bit of a preachy one, so if you don’t like that kind of thing, kindly avert your gaze now. Arguably I shouldn’t write posts I know are preachy in the first place, but given that I reinforced yesterday that this blog is an exercise in pure self-service, I’ll permit myself to indulge my own ego a little further today.

This morning I went out for a run along the cliffs, to the southeastern most point of the island. I say run, I walked a great deal of it, especially those sections that involved going up steps, there was also some plodding, some pussyfooting, and at times even a complete cessation of movement. It was raining, windy, muddy, and dark when I set off, such that I had to take a headtorch to avoid falling fall of some gnarled root or inconsiderately placed granite outcrop. After some amount of shuffling through the early morning, including a handful of precarious slips, I emerged from the forest path onto a spit of land overlooking St Martin’s Point. From said point, no other land is visible, the water stretches to the horizon, and in today’s tempestuous conditions, blue bled into white bled into grey, and I felt a peculiar and unexpected feeling as I stared out into the tumult.

I was filled with a joy which I have not felt for weeks, almost overcome with my emotions, simply turning round and round on the spot to survey all of the world that I could from that place. The power of the wind and the waves, the landscape seeming so bleak and inhospitable, whisked away any of my fears, doubts and pains, and left behind only a palpable sense that life was all worth it for moments like these, and nothing else really matters. I wanted to howl into the blustery void, knowing that my voice would be lost immediately and that in that moment, I was powerless, and in so being absolved of all and any responsibilities and obligations, for a few blissful moments on the cliffs I was free and at peace.