Mud

When I was young my life was a lot more defined by mud. And sky. And rivers. And weather. In short, I spent a lot more of it outside. Playing football or cricket. Fishing. Climbing trees. Bird spotting. All the stereotypical boy things.

Then, as with many of us, as we slowly transition from child to adult - I think I’m getting there - life got much cleaner. Less physical, more digital. Less outside, more inside. To the point where my positive childhood experiences were just a bubble in my head, disconnected from my present self, and very easy to pop.

But I love those immortal lines about mortality:

“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust”.

And as I get older I’m discovering that it’s possible to be too clean, too warm and too comfortable. My beginning too disconnected from my inevitable end. Not enough time living in a physical reality. Too much time spent on computers looking at and listening to people and an Earth that are merely digital representations of the real thing.

Too little time remembering that I’m human, and being close to other humans. Hearing their voices speaking and singing. Without the assistance of any technology other than that which their physical bodies can manage.

When I was young my life was a lot more defined by mud.