In last week’s article titled, ‘Tabula Rasa-A Clean Slate’, June 26th 2018, I focused on how in today’s society we need to consciously, unabashedly, grant ourselves the right and sanction, to carve out time to think about ourselves. A flow of thought over the rock -strewn passage of our life journeys: reflecting, taking stock, learning from the past and present. Such thoughtfulness demands clear space, uncluttered expanse and in my view needs to be deliberately created, protected and prioritised. In today’s article I outline a couple of personal examples of creating such space for reflection and learning from it.
From the age of 18 months until the age of a few months short of 11years, with a short interruption to pursue rehabilitation with my birth mother that proved abortive, I lived in Aberlour Orphanage, Speyside, Banffshire, in the Highlands of Scotland, founded by Canon Charles Jupp on 4th March 1875. The Orphanage, which had 500 children and youth living in it at any one time at its prime, was perched in the village of Aberlour situated within walking distance of the banks of the River Spey. In the words of Canon Jupp:
‘looking north, commands a fine view of the Spey valley, the lovely river flows rapidly down to the strath towards the sea, which is about twenty miles distant. Ben Aigan lies on the east, and comes out in grand relief, and forms a shelter from the east winds; while Ben Rinnes, a link from the Grampians, rises majestically on the west, to the height of 2747 feet; it is about two miles distant. On the south, the land rises to a considerable height, and forms a good background. In the centre of these beautiful surroundings the Orphanage was commenced on a small scale.’ (Reverend Charles Jupp, 1890: 1-2).
My formative years were spent surrounded by other children of a similar age firstly in the nursery and then graduated to Spey House from around the age of 6-7. The Orphanage was a series of large interconnected houses and children and youth moved depending on age and gender from House to House as they became older. One of my abiding memories as a child is that if you were not at Church, at school, or in bed, you were outside. The vast natural surroundings of the Orphanage were our playground. At my age then it was always in groups with our carers, firstly the nursery staff and the Nursery School Headmistress, Miss Heap, and then Aunty Phyllis at Spey House.
As children we had favourite places to walk. Across the ‘Penny Bridge’, overlooking the fast flowing river Spey, having a picnic beside and wading into the Linn Falls (a much loved local waterfall), walking through the countryside and wooded areas. It was a natural paradise to grow up in. Surrounded by beauty and opportunities to spend time both by your self, and with others, just thinking and reflecting aided by the surroundings. The sound of running water that transformed into a conversation with you as you walked beside the river or sat beside the Linn Falls. The quiet moments triggered by the surrounding beauty, prompting reflection. The sounds of peers playing reminding me of being loved here, accepted and part of our self-created new family as children at the Orphanage.
Our walks down the hill to the village to spend our pocket money and interact with some of the local village members. Our longer walks to Craigellachie Bridge and the wooded pathways on the opposite shore. Sometimes we were out all day in all weathers.
What I learnt from the surroundings and our journey as children through them, was the priceless value of peace and opportunity to savour whatever came to your attention. The spontaneity that is triggered: the joy of just being there- at that moment, in that place, experiencing something special, memorable. I also learnt the value of company as well as the necessity of being solitary at times. I have always loved the sound of running water and it emerged from my time at Aberlour Orphanage. It propelled me later in life to swim significant distances in the ocean, undertake scuba diving at advanced levels, around the world, experience where focus is critical and interruptions in thought can be fatal. The realisation that beauty comes in all shapes, colours, and that we have to look deeply, think about our patterns of thought about what is conventionally seen as beauty, worth, first began in my walks at Aberlour Orphanage.
In next week’s article I will continue on the theme of learning life lessons from reflection and thought and creating the context for that to happen.