Listening to them now. Beautiful. Their music a mirror image to the world of flight, of love, of loss, of challenge.


Their name is not lost on me. The Civil Wars. I have just read the paper (I am enjoying the Independent at the moment) and of course there was much news of many civil wars. It struck me last night when reading blip that a fellow blipper asked why can’t we just let live? Why can’t we build, not knock down? Well I guess those in war believe they must knock down to then allow them to build how they see best fits their dream, their ideals. 


The quandary of truth is that it is selective to the position of the individual? So my truth is another’s lie? Yes, I guess it is.


Ideals. I was musing on this whilst dropping off to sleep, of St Paul’s words that ‘now we see through a glass dimly.’ And we do and yet millions and millions have followed the words of his, and to the letter despite him pronouncing quite clearly that he was only able to be vague. Is it a concern when people, humanity, is taken at 100% full on, right on, nailed on truth despite the floors that we as humans clearly have? 


I look out into the sun stained bay below me to see the sea jump high against a rock face in a leap of unadulterated joy. This is my truth.


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