Morning Cemetery Walks & Magpie Musings
Thoughts after walking Ghost through the gravestones.
My day began in the cemetery. Walking my dog through hushed, enclosed lanes, arched with a network of interlocking branches of trees, I tried to shake off the blanket of sleep that still hung loose around my shoulders. The dead made for lovely company for a morning walk; quiet, uncomplicated, non-confrontational, they joined me in peaceful reflection. The only sound was the gentle crunch of gravelly mud under my boots, and the scuttling and scuffling of birds in the bushes, singing and squawking melodically as I passed by.
It always is entertaining to wander through cemeteries with a dog named Ghost, but I hope it brings about laughter rather than disdain with the residents. I spent a lot of time as a child in the cemetery, playing imaginary games in the couple of metre stretch between my grandparent’s graves, fox spotting and bird watching while my relatives polished, planted, pruned. It took me a while to get to a place where I felt able to spend time amongst the dead without feeling pangs of discomfort, but these days I have settled in the knowledge that I mean no harm. I don’t litter, or cause any sort of chaos - goths in cemeteries are probably a somewhat welcome entertainment, especially around the oldest mausoleums. I like to imagine they watch us like a soap: Eastenders for the eternally resting. It’s a perfect place…quiet and cool, shaded from sun and hidden from busy roads and busy people rushing from A to B. As I finished my walk, Ghost playfully leaping through springtime daisies, I felt grateful that these spaces no longer felt out of bounds to me.
26 always felt like such an intimidating age, something that sounds so mature despite my insides feeling so messy, small and undone. It’s in these moments however that I notice the beauty of it though, a teenage lust for adventure still lingers, dancing at my fingertips, but I am no longer scared to walk home in the dark. I’m not afraid to change my opinions, adapt my comforts, alter my reality to make it suit me. I walk through cemeteries without looking over my shoulder, I take the night bus home without such a deep and innate terror piercing through my body. Caution still taken - the world is a fucked up place - but I am not running away from it anymore.
I used to be afraid of a magpie’s bad luck. I’ve wanted to befriend crows for a long time, however my desk window looks out onto a spot of roof that is only really popular with pigeons or magpies. The corvids aren’t to blame for their superstitious reputation, and in the spirit of overcoming past hangups, I found myself beginning a routine of feeding in the hope the magpies would recognise me as a friend over time. Today was the first day they definitely ate from my offerings, two beautiful birds with their petrol-shimmer, oil slick feathers squawking at their find while I watched from behind the glass.
It’s small progress, baby-step alterations that when I think about it have changed and are changing the landscape of my life in quite significant ways. It’s exciting to feel like anything is possible. There are more cemeteries I am yet to explore, and today feels like a good enough day to start as any.
Until next time,
Eerie