Transition

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If you have ever been through any kind of birth experience, then you’ll know that before a new beginning always comes a transitional time. This can be kind of graced but it can also be kind of like hell…or both! It’s the stage at which home birthing mothers, as I once was, often start screaming that they want to go home.
Jesus may have had transitional times in mind when he said (something along the lines of) ‘no one who puts their hand to the plough and then looks back is fit for the kingdom of Heaven’. Tough love!

After the parties, the final groups and gatherings, us Bonehill dwellers entered our transitional time, which was mostly just very hard work. Eighty boxes of books and a lot of other stuff, from saucepans to incense, had to be packed up, followed by a long hard day with three ‘especially-Dartmoor-lane-sized’ removal lorries. Then came a lot of cleaning and a short exhausted collapse before starting to unpack and redistribute the eighty boxes of books etc.

Alongside all this I was still embroiled in the coils of my dark twin, which in my case seem to be expressed through the unpleasant realities of selling and buying property and getting divorced. Our buyers for Badarroch House added their own special spice to the mix by ‘gazundering’ us a week before we had been due to complete, to the tune of £30,000!

In the face of all the above, I was determined to keep focussing on the bright side. So we took some trips to the beach and walks on the moor in the midst of it all, which really helped to restore sanity. I even managed to collect a few photos…including a lovely one of, I think, the final foal for this year to be born to the Bonehill Dartmoor pony herd.