I too have been waiting to get a harder shell as I get older and it's not happening. The softer-shelled people have a more difficult time in this world, but it's okay, it's a sign of humanity. And being okay with being happy and sad at the same time is as well. What's the alternative? Denying parts of yourself, chasing after some social media flattened world, which your writing is so obviously and beautifully an antidote to.
Right there with you Mary. The older I get the softer I get. I would even say there’s more of a trend for softening than I’ve ever witnessed before. Wisdom starts with the intimacy of vulnerability. That’s why I love Tom’s work. Getting cracked wide open lets the light in but lets the light out as well. The journey only leads to more questions it seems. In the end I guess mastery can never replace mystery. “I don’t know” is the way home. 🙏❤️
A brilliant piece Tom and echoes so much of how I feel. When I see dead creatures on the road I always ask that (in my case) the Goddess takes them to her arms. I think any acknowledgment of a creatures passing is important. We are all part of this world and as such all lives have a purpose and reason to be here,
In the middle of a weird week, this really resonated with me. Getting married this Friday which I am obviously very happy about, but I’m also incredibly anxious. I have also been very discouraged about writing and it’s always good to see someone being transparent about the doubt—thank you for being a counterweight to the “happy writers.” And of course, as always with your stuff, I am left with the feeling that it is very important that I visit the UK as soon as possible.
Thank you for this piece, Tom. Lately, I have become so overcome by grief when seeing roadkill that I daydream of scenarios where cars are no longer needed, or tunnels and bridges are built for wildlife on every road. I used to say "prayers" for the animals, but the practice now feels shy of meaning.
Thank you also for sharing about the process of writing and self-doubt. There is a real chance that my own self-doubt will turn my writing into roadkill. Reading about your process gives me a little nudge toward ABW. Cheers.
A brilliant, beautiful essay, Tom. After years of writing as an academic, I firmly believe that really good writers are always haunted. Much as I LOVE being in the flow of writing, and a significant part of me always wants to be there, the stuff either side of it - the lead-up to writing and then the aftermath - feels brutal. I am so suspicious of the Happy Writers.
What I often say is that a walk is never guaranteed to give an answer to a problem, but I almost always find that it serves as *an* answer within itself.
Thanks for sharing Tom. I’m always haunted by the roadkill and try to say a little prayer in some form of gratitude. Bless you some great walks, great reads, relaxation and a sense of belonging in your new home. In the meantime, I’ll be surfing the waves, picking myself up off the ground, gasping in moments of awe, losing myself in poetry and patiently, waiting for your next book. You make it better. Cheers.
You are definitely not alone. I have alwasy been sensitive to the avoidable-nightmare things, like roadkill, and I'm getting more sensitive as I age. Just this week I found a large toad, run completely flat in our lane. I cannot remember the last time I saw a live toad anywhere near here, and yet there it was, hieroglyphic in its flatness, and all I could do was stand and stare at it, while my fractionally uncomprehending brain tried to process the fact of its non-existence.
There's been a tiny storm going on, on Twitter this week, after a naturalist shared an photo of a hedgehog out in daylight and many people (myself included) told him that a hedgehog seen in daylight is an ailing hedgehog and should have been taken to a rescue. His response was that the death of a hedgehog simply contributes to survival of the fittest, and that the hedgehog population had probably reached critical mass in terms of the habitat left to them, so catch-and-release would have been more cruel that simply letting the hedgehog die its slow death. And then, separately, a hedgehog rescue shared video of two young 'hogs, brother and sister, both incredibly frail and ill, yet driven by the nesting instinct to not only gather bedding but also cover each other with it, and — just like your cock pheasant in the lane — I don't know how anyone with an ounce of imagination can 'unsee' hedgehogs' potential for mourning.
Keep doing what you do, Tom. It's your happy sadness, your sad happiness, your eccentric sanity, that makes your work so great.
All of this, yes. And especially the need to always get out for a walk and always be writing. And allowing the cracks where sadness and pain pool even when - simultaneously for god’s sake - all is good and beautiful.
Thank you for writing this, Tom. I read it at just the right time for me and it has served as a useful reminder that I can only do what I can do, I can't do everything. None of us can.
It's also given me something to chew on personally - the question of where the need to be productive and the associated anxiety I feel about that comes from. As well as the "culture that’s constantly telling us we need to be more", for me it's about that sense of having been educated above my station, about the previous generations in my family not having the luxury of worrying about how productive they were being or whether they were 'enough', and the need to make them, dead as they are, somehow proud.
Wonderful writing. At times I felt the persona switch from author to an animal’s point of view. I wonder if animals in the wild think about happy/sad phenomena? Either way, they have more important things to tend to. Happy writers… yes they tend to photoshop out the sadness of their lives and showcase their sole brilliance. I think. Substack seems more organic… we get a balance of happy and sad.
Wonderfully written. Witnessing debased corpses of animals along a road always hurts me, much in the same way as when I see a felled tree. I find myself wishing there were wildlife lollipop ladies to stop it happening.
It makes me happy, this day, to find you and your writing on here having left you behind when the guano in the bluebird coop was becoming too offensive.
Roadkill makes me sorrowful too. The young badgers and red squirrels here...In 45 years of driving I have hit one animal and that it was a red squirrel jumping from a bank in my near side blind spot on a suicide mission gives me no solace. I have to drive that stretch of road regularly and years on it hurts me still. But do people target animals on the road rather than avoiding them? Perhaps drivers of large vehicles can't avoid so readily. Here we have forestry wagons wider than one side of the road that are supposed to be restricted to 50mph. Yeah right...and if you're a young badger wanting to occupy a tiny part of that not very wide side of that road, bimbling along, thinking there's a handy gateway just a bit further along here then, mate, the answer is breathe in cos' yer man atop that speeding gargantuan either can't see you or doesn't want to see you or actively nudges you off the tarmac with extreme force. I dare not walk our country roads here as I could so easily join young badger.
Thank you for writing and sharing this. It feels like a ramble; like the rambling trail of thinking/notthinking that is part of the bliss of a long walk. The simple yet elusive ‘solvitur’ part, which requires a really rather long and aimless wander to sink into. It’s the most important part, and one that cannot be instagrammed, only felt. And yes, it is always a calico of many feelings, as life.
We write because we have to, regardless of how we feel. It pours out of like water along the runnel to the stream and eventually to the sea. I love the anonymity and humility of the stone, 'a relative
/descendent of Caratacus,' as the only notable fact of that life. Lithic remembrance or online presence - I know which will last the longer. Thank you for walking and bringing us the dear land!
Thanks for this piece Tom, it’s good to hear someone else (and lots of people in the comments) notice the fallen creatures. I’ve never had a hard shell and think that now I’m older, I no longer have a shell at all. I personally think to write honestly, there has to be an openness to everything that is going on and you do it so well. I also think that’s why your writing is enjoyed by so many of your readers. Are you familiar with this song by Martin Simpson by the way? https://youtu.be/hMYTMUYvBuE?si=DlNlK-rQIvDximBC
I too have been waiting to get a harder shell as I get older and it's not happening. The softer-shelled people have a more difficult time in this world, but it's okay, it's a sign of humanity. And being okay with being happy and sad at the same time is as well. What's the alternative? Denying parts of yourself, chasing after some social media flattened world, which your writing is so obviously and beautifully an antidote to.
Right there with you Mary. The older I get the softer I get. I would even say there’s more of a trend for softening than I’ve ever witnessed before. Wisdom starts with the intimacy of vulnerability. That’s why I love Tom’s work. Getting cracked wide open lets the light in but lets the light out as well. The journey only leads to more questions it seems. In the end I guess mastery can never replace mystery. “I don’t know” is the way home. 🙏❤️
A brilliant piece Tom and echoes so much of how I feel. When I see dead creatures on the road I always ask that (in my case) the Goddess takes them to her arms. I think any acknowledgment of a creatures passing is important. We are all part of this world and as such all lives have a purpose and reason to be here,
In the middle of a weird week, this really resonated with me. Getting married this Friday which I am obviously very happy about, but I’m also incredibly anxious. I have also been very discouraged about writing and it’s always good to see someone being transparent about the doubt—thank you for being a counterweight to the “happy writers.” And of course, as always with your stuff, I am left with the feeling that it is very important that I visit the UK as soon as possible.
Thank you, Dawson. All the best for your wedding! P.S. Hope your signed book arrived safely.
Bless your wedding Dawson 🙏❤️
Thank you for this piece, Tom. Lately, I have become so overcome by grief when seeing roadkill that I daydream of scenarios where cars are no longer needed, or tunnels and bridges are built for wildlife on every road. I used to say "prayers" for the animals, but the practice now feels shy of meaning.
Thank you also for sharing about the process of writing and self-doubt. There is a real chance that my own self-doubt will turn my writing into roadkill. Reading about your process gives me a little nudge toward ABW. Cheers.
A brilliant, beautiful essay, Tom. After years of writing as an academic, I firmly believe that really good writers are always haunted. Much as I LOVE being in the flow of writing, and a significant part of me always wants to be there, the stuff either side of it - the lead-up to writing and then the aftermath - feels brutal. I am so suspicious of the Happy Writers.
Thank you so much, Sarah. I am sort of at peace with being a bit haunted.
Agreed… regarding the suspicion bit.
What I often say is that a walk is never guaranteed to give an answer to a problem, but I almost always find that it serves as *an* answer within itself.
Thanks for sharing Tom. I’m always haunted by the roadkill and try to say a little prayer in some form of gratitude. Bless you some great walks, great reads, relaxation and a sense of belonging in your new home. In the meantime, I’ll be surfing the waves, picking myself up off the ground, gasping in moments of awe, losing myself in poetry and patiently, waiting for your next book. You make it better. Cheers.
Thank you so much, Jamie. Really kind of you to say these things.
Love the idea of saying a prayer for the animals… how come I never thought of that?
You are definitely not alone. I have alwasy been sensitive to the avoidable-nightmare things, like roadkill, and I'm getting more sensitive as I age. Just this week I found a large toad, run completely flat in our lane. I cannot remember the last time I saw a live toad anywhere near here, and yet there it was, hieroglyphic in its flatness, and all I could do was stand and stare at it, while my fractionally uncomprehending brain tried to process the fact of its non-existence.
There's been a tiny storm going on, on Twitter this week, after a naturalist shared an photo of a hedgehog out in daylight and many people (myself included) told him that a hedgehog seen in daylight is an ailing hedgehog and should have been taken to a rescue. His response was that the death of a hedgehog simply contributes to survival of the fittest, and that the hedgehog population had probably reached critical mass in terms of the habitat left to them, so catch-and-release would have been more cruel that simply letting the hedgehog die its slow death. And then, separately, a hedgehog rescue shared video of two young 'hogs, brother and sister, both incredibly frail and ill, yet driven by the nesting instinct to not only gather bedding but also cover each other with it, and — just like your cock pheasant in the lane — I don't know how anyone with an ounce of imagination can 'unsee' hedgehogs' potential for mourning.
Keep doing what you do, Tom. It's your happy sadness, your sad happiness, your eccentric sanity, that makes your work so great.
All of this, yes. And especially the need to always get out for a walk and always be writing. And allowing the cracks where sadness and pain pool even when - simultaneously for god’s sake - all is good and beautiful.
Thank you for writing this, Tom. I read it at just the right time for me and it has served as a useful reminder that I can only do what I can do, I can't do everything. None of us can.
It's also given me something to chew on personally - the question of where the need to be productive and the associated anxiety I feel about that comes from. As well as the "culture that’s constantly telling us we need to be more", for me it's about that sense of having been educated above my station, about the previous generations in my family not having the luxury of worrying about how productive they were being or whether they were 'enough', and the need to make them, dead as they are, somehow proud.
We are complicated beings and no mistake!
Wonderful writing. At times I felt the persona switch from author to an animal’s point of view. I wonder if animals in the wild think about happy/sad phenomena? Either way, they have more important things to tend to. Happy writers… yes they tend to photoshop out the sadness of their lives and showcase their sole brilliance. I think. Substack seems more organic… we get a balance of happy and sad.
Wonderfully written. Witnessing debased corpses of animals along a road always hurts me, much in the same way as when I see a felled tree. I find myself wishing there were wildlife lollipop ladies to stop it happening.
It makes me happy, this day, to find you and your writing on here having left you behind when the guano in the bluebird coop was becoming too offensive.
Roadkill makes me sorrowful too. The young badgers and red squirrels here...In 45 years of driving I have hit one animal and that it was a red squirrel jumping from a bank in my near side blind spot on a suicide mission gives me no solace. I have to drive that stretch of road regularly and years on it hurts me still. But do people target animals on the road rather than avoiding them? Perhaps drivers of large vehicles can't avoid so readily. Here we have forestry wagons wider than one side of the road that are supposed to be restricted to 50mph. Yeah right...and if you're a young badger wanting to occupy a tiny part of that not very wide side of that road, bimbling along, thinking there's a handy gateway just a bit further along here then, mate, the answer is breathe in cos' yer man atop that speeding gargantuan either can't see you or doesn't want to see you or actively nudges you off the tarmac with extreme force. I dare not walk our country roads here as I could so easily join young badger.
Thank you for writing and sharing this. It feels like a ramble; like the rambling trail of thinking/notthinking that is part of the bliss of a long walk. The simple yet elusive ‘solvitur’ part, which requires a really rather long and aimless wander to sink into. It’s the most important part, and one that cannot be instagrammed, only felt. And yes, it is always a calico of many feelings, as life.
We write because we have to, regardless of how we feel. It pours out of like water along the runnel to the stream and eventually to the sea. I love the anonymity and humility of the stone, 'a relative
/descendent of Caratacus,' as the only notable fact of that life. Lithic remembrance or online presence - I know which will last the longer. Thank you for walking and bringing us the dear land!
Thanks for this piece Tom, it’s good to hear someone else (and lots of people in the comments) notice the fallen creatures. I’ve never had a hard shell and think that now I’m older, I no longer have a shell at all. I personally think to write honestly, there has to be an openness to everything that is going on and you do it so well. I also think that’s why your writing is enjoyed by so many of your readers. Are you familiar with this song by Martin Simpson by the way? https://youtu.be/hMYTMUYvBuE?si=DlNlK-rQIvDximBC