So now - ABNA is over and "Edward Beaton" up on Amazon. It's a good quiet place to be.
I am thinking though of Roots again. There is a wonderfully powerful poem by Ted Hughes, which I discovered (strangely enough) at one of those milestones in my life when I was trying to define Self and my take on Roots and belonging. Ted Hughes is my favourite poet - such a dark and brooding and indulgently brilliant poet. It is called "Wodwo", and it is about these figurative Roots. Beautiful writing. It became something of a prayer / chant for me:
Wodwo
What am I? Nosing here, turning leaves overFollowing a faint stain on the air to the river's edge
I enter water. Who am I to split
The glassy grain of water looking upward I see the bed
Of the river above me upside down very clear
What am I doing here in mid-air? Why do I find
this frog so interesting as I inspect its most secret
interior and make it my own? Do these weeds
know me and name me to each other have they
seen me before, do I fit in their world? I seem
separate from the ground and not rooted but dropped
out of nothing casually I've no threads
fastening me to anything I can go anywhere
I seem to have been given the freedom
of this place what am I then? And picking
bits of bark off this rotten stump gives me
no pleasure and it's no use so why do I do it
me and doing that have coincided very queerly
But what shall I be called am I the first
have I an owner what shape am I what
shape am I am I huge if I go
to the end on this way past these trees and past these trees
till I get tired that's touching one wall of me
for the moment if I sit still how everything
stops to watch me I suppose I am the exact centre
but there's all this what is it roots
roots roots roots and here's the water
again very queer but I'll go on looking.
Ted Hughes