
Photo by Jamie Harrop
I’m home alone this weekend. It’s lovely. It’s a time for me to think new thoughts and refresh old thoughts. It’s a time for contemplation. A time for me to operate how I want to, rather than operating around others.
If I want to play low music at 12am, I can. If I want to open all the doors and windows at 6:30am to allow for the new day to hit me, I can. Without others getting cold.
It’s my time, and I find that special.
Calm Contemplation
Having woken at 7am yesterday, I set out on a long day of chores, reading and working.
I watched a movie last night. “World Trade Center”. I find it helps bring me back to reality to occasionally relive that terrible day. I still remember it clearly. Walking home from school, a friend ran out of his house and shouted across the street. “America is under attack!”. Wow. I still recall the tears from my friends mum when I reached her house. I try not to look back at the past too much, but 9/11 and 7/7 are two events I make a point of remembering. Not for respect. Not for mourning. Just to remind me why I live each day and what we, as humans, are capable of doing. Bad and good.
At the start of the movie, it emphasised the clear blue sky. New Yorkers were rocking just like any other day. Then it cut to a car on the freeway. A song was playing on a commuters radio. Convertible car. Roof down. Music loud. I listened to the lyrics. “Sun coming up, over New York City”. That was a lovely image. The sun rising over the crystal clear city. People talking about the previous nights game. Strangers communicating through voice. And commuters grabbing breakfast on their way to the office.
After the movie, I stepped outside. I walked to the bottom of my garden. 12am and it was mild and humid. A light southern breeze made its way through the garden. These conditions are rare in England. It felt like Europe. I imagined I was sat outside a bar in a Spanish coastal resort. It even smelt like Europe. That mild, yet fresh smell of the world. The natural world. No traffic or electrics to drown out the senses. I could feel the atmosphere.
Then I heard frogs. They were croaking and splashing.
I realised I wasn’t on the continent, but rather in my back garden. I didn’t mind. It was lovely. Peaceful. Quiet. Calm.
I took a breath and then slowly made my way inside. As I closed the door, I took one last look at the day. Because tomorrow, it would be gone. Never to be seen again.
I headed to bed, but rather than close my window and shut myself in for the night, I opened it wide. I could once again smell the world. The garden. The flowers. The flowing waterfall in my pond.

Emley Moor Mast by Steven Earnshaw
I look out over the houses and down the valley. On a clear night, I have a view of some 15 miles. Usually, I can see the radio mast on the horizon, lit up with red safety lights. The tallest freestanding structure in the United Kingdom. I can usually see the motorway. There’s usually a small trickle of trucks on overnight deliveries, and the occasional family car. I often wonder where they’re going on the motorway at such a late hour. Somewhere exciting, I’m sure. Maybe heading for an early morning flight or coming home from a long family day out. Closer now, but still a mile away, I can usually see Wainhouse Tower. A landmark of my hometown. Lit up in lime green, it stands proud.
Tonight, however, it was foggy. My usual 15 mile view had been reduced to barely a mile. I could just make out the faint glow of Wainhouse Tower. Yet in a strange way, this fog was adding to the peace. It blocks the sound that usually travels up the valley from the town centre. Lights shining through the fog were like stage lights shining through dry ice.
Once again, I took a deep breath. I listened. I smelt. I touched. I felt. Using all my senses, I got one last feel of 30th August 2008.
I’m pleased I took the time to experience the day. If I hadn’t, I couldn’t have gone back and done so. You’ll never get yesterday back, and you’ll never experience another today.
Breathe. Experience the day before you. And go in to the next day, knowing you stopped to be a part of the last day.
Do you ever take time to watch and listen to the world? How do you think night differs to day? Please share your thoughts in the comments.
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Posted on 31 August, 2008 by Jamie Harrop
Filed Under Motivation |

Jamie kayaking the River Rothay in January 08
Hi Jamie - I didn’t see the movie yet. But I remember when it happened - my son was very young and he shouted to tell me some planes were crashing on TV. At first I thought he was watching a cartoon, but he insisted it was real and I had to come and look straight away. It’s amazing how even very young kids understand so much about what’s going on around them.
This a great post Jamie and a good reminder for us to sit back and watch life go by for a change, instead of rushing round and missing everything.
I like to work early, when there’s no noise at all. But it’s good to hear the world come to life again. It’s makes us realise how lucky we are to be alive.
Hey Cath,
Thanks for the excellent comment.
Working early is very productive for me too. When I wake early I find I’m much more motivated.
What a beautiful post! Stumbled!
Enjoy,
Barbara
Hey Barbara,
Thanks for the compliment and the Stumble.
Jamie
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What a lovely photo in this post. Stumbled
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