Learning

I am learning again.

I go through periods where I've felt my thought-life has suffered a drought, where I learn nothing more than the basics of survival and the perfection of an art (like the writing of a radio news story or the writing of an essay). But I feel that recently, I've given myself the space to think again.

I'm not sure if this is because my job is so flexible, my purpose so nebulous, my time so elastic. Or whether it's due to something else, which I can't explain. It doesn't really matter though, because a revival is always good.

It means I'm waking up at 3am and writing poetry, and making felt badges again and pondering ideas and questioning my identity. I haven't graduated to actually sharing much of this with the world yet, but it feels good to know I can still express myself in these ways.

It began a couple of weeks ago when I pulled out an anthology of poetry by Andrew Motion, my favourite poet. He is Britain's Poet Laureate (ie. appointed by the Queen to write things like eulogies). However his poetry reveals so much more than that title belies. He's so good at writing about the everyday with simplicity and beauty, and embedding little epiphanies into his descriptions.

I really like doing this stuff. This stuff of learning and being again.