Diary

This morning I woke up furious with the world.

Maybe it was the latest outbreak of hideous carnage in the USA. Maybe it was the shameful, deceitful, disgraceful speech from our Foreign Secretary. Maybe it was the cruelty and self-destructive stupidity of factory faming practices. Maybe it was...

The list could go on and on.

The anger isn't a bad thing in itself; I'd have to be insensitive and self deluding not to be feeling it.

It's what comes with it that's so destructive and so difficult: the sense of helplessness. The sense of despair.

These feelings are addictive somehow. It feels easier to stay sunk in them. It hurts to try to climb out.

Luckily this morning there's so much beauty in the air. It touches me. It makes me move.

I do the washing up from yesterday. I pick up notebook and pen.

I start to climb.