bridget martin

7 November

The cloud is thinner today, whiter, lighter and brighter with gauzy hints of sunlight and the possibility of something blue. There is no wind and the lichen laced branches are still. The garnet Rowan berries are scattered across the soft earth alongside the small larch cones which still cling to their twig. On higher ground the treetops are shrouded in the mist which for the last few days has tipped over into a light but soaking rain. The bracken is coppery now and from its midst comes a beating of wings as chiffchaffs dart upwards, flitting and chirruping through branches, soaring and singing up into the air, full of the urgency of life. And the elusive blue finally appears.

The sweep of blue was fleeting and brought with it memories of childhood holidays where the weather could be fickle and full of mischief. Not that it mattered to a child. We were free on the beaches and in the fields, wild haired, sandy toed and sticky mouthed from holiday ice creams and pop. Still, a smudge of blue offered the hint of sunshine and warmth and more time spent on the beach. Heading off for camping trips when our boys were young was filled with the same excitement. Cresting the hill with expectant faces we would suddenly see the endless sea, the tents already pitched, and taste the salty sense of freedom. Time was soft there and it was a feeling we wished we could bottle.

It is the blue hour that ushers in the bright new day and then eases it into the dark night. L’heure Bleue occurs before sunrise and after sunset when the sun’s depth beneath the horizon is such that its blue rays are dominant. This nautical twilight blurs the horizon meaning sailors are unable to navigate from it. Twice a day this mysterious elusive blue settles and softens, silently blending sky with sea and day with night. For a while there is no edge, no boundary, no limitation. Derek Jarman said that ‘For Blue there are no boundaries or solutions’, that ‘Blue is darkness made visible’. Elusive blue breathes in magic and offers us something beyond the realm of reason and logic, something mysterious that still lingers somewhere in the remnants of our childmind.

Open a journal and inhabit a quiet space. Soften your edges and blur your boundaries and let the mystery in. This is a place where elusive feelings and thoughts may settle, even stay long enough to be expressed in a word or colour or stitch. In a world that is loud and unpredictable, the silence of the page can be unsettling. But lean into it, listen and wait, out of nothing comes something. A fleeting thought is pinned down, an idea grabbed, an emotion articulated, a conversation begun. Those feelings, when on the page, stop slipping and sliding and come into focus, just like the smudge of blue sky. As the blue sky offered sunlight and warmth the expressed feelings offer clarity and meaning, relief and hope. There in the sky and there on the page the elusive is made manifest.

In a world that is increasingly dark the quiet places are needed more than ever. Places where time and edges are soft and magic is wild and alive. Places where possibility is endless and the childmind is in charge. Places that are fragile yet strong, quiet yet powerful, delicate yet resilient. Places that are teeming with possibility and hope. Keep your door open for the mystery and magic, keep listening to the wisdom of the wild and whatever you do keep holding on to your elusive blue.