Clebrity Night Shot

The first thing I notice is the quietness. I step from the rush and bustle and hurly burly of cars and mobile phones and chatter into this still place. I sit down slowly and realise just how much of the buzz from outside is inside of me. That I have a semi circular ring road of busyness in my body. I sit in the quietness until my unwilling body starts to hush, like a small child unscrewing itself from a tantrum

Everything in here speaks with an ancient voice. The flagstones worn by centuries of feet, celebrating or mourning, Christmas and Easter, choirs and Girl Guides and tourists. The rudimentary stone Font that has baptised children since the 12th Century. The wooden rood screens crafted by Monks from trees that they knew, carved and painstakingly painted with pictures of their Saints. These screens that have survived five hundred years and two World Wars intact.

I breathe in the hushed voices, frankincense and the rich, honeyed smell of old oak. I breathe out the complicated mix of things I am not sure make this world an easy place to live in. Emails, text messages, to do lists, cash machines and oven ready meals encased in plastic.

Somehow this stillness and this oldness are comforting to me. It is reassuring to know that in this world of constant change and instant gratification, there is somewhere that remains the same, somewhere that is untouched. Where everything is as it has always been. My life is full of things I have to prioritise and plan, responsibilities and deadlines. When I come here I am reminded that, however busy I am, there is somewhere that is still and unbent. Like an old oak tree in a raging storm whose roots stretch to places unfathomable.

This place speaks of a peace such as the world cannot give. That is why I come. So that I can take that Ancient Voice back into my world. Like a child, calmed.