A farewell

I cycled over to my friend’s. The owl was in its spot ... https://www.blipfoto.com/entry/2975533758670701772 ... I cycled passed Chapel well. Bessygarth’s well was as dilapidated as ever, the farmer drove his cattle along the street into the farmyard, the Lyvennet glistened in the cradle of the Eden valley. There are so many things that seem to be bubbling up with all of this. As I cycled I was thinking more about yesterday, of looking out across the Solway, of David, King of the Scots, Prince of the Cumbrians, of Robert the Bruce and his descendant, Queen Elizabeth. So much history, much of it murky and vague in my mind.
I was glad to be spending the day in good company.
We watched the funeral. I loved the remarkable reading of Corinthians. I don’t think I had realised how metaphysical it all was until I heard it read with such feeling by the Baroness Scotland, Secretary General of The Commonwealth (thinking of recent discussions with David Olusoga on the Commonwealth). The anthem, ‘Who shall separate us’ written by James MacMillan was beautiful. I hoped the politicians heeded Welby. The Silence and the Piper. The bell tolls and the steady drum, heartbeats of consistency throughout.
I cycled home crying for a sense of lost stability, the feeling of the loss of everyone, of a much deeper grief that feels hard to define and with a sense of it permeating everything.
I ended up rejoining my friend at the lake for a late dip.
I definitely needed to jump in cold water. Noli timere, as Seamus said.
There was a flypast of geese as I took this.

Sonnets from The River Duddon: After-Thought - William Wordsworth

I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide,
As being past away.—Vain sympathies!
For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,
I see what was, and is, and will abide;
Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide;
The Form remains, the Function never dies;
While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,
We Men, who in our morn of youth defied
The elements, must vanish;—be it so!
Enough, if something from our hands have power
To live, and act, and serve the future hour;
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.