If yesterday’s post was full of sadness from saying goodbye to much-loved teenagers, then today’s is about peace – in heart, mind and soul.
We went to the local village, to Surola’s home for two meals – one at each of our ayah’s places which share a common area. There home is easily one of my favourite places in the whole world.
Many years ago I read a tale from a psychiatrist in The Mummy at the Dining Table which turned out to be something of a ghost story. I won’t give away the details (look it up for yourself) but the tale happened, if memory serves, because the counselor asked his client to find ‘his safe space’ in his mind before the therapy began. He was stunned by the speed at which his client found the space and asked him afterwards about it. Thus, the Ghost story began. It’s an interesting tale.
My reason for telling you all this is simply that if I needed to imagine or mentally put myself in a ‘safe place’ I think Surola’s Santal village would immediately come to my mind. Indeed, I suspect my mind will go there often over the weeks and months to come.
We spent the whole day there and it was a much-needed rest after a horrible day 24 hours earlier. We came home with full bellies and spirits refreshed.