This week, for the first time in almost forty years, I went camping. And, as is usual with adventures, I learned a lot. For example, I learned that, when the bank loses money you were relying upon, and the camping lodge refuses your booking, and the hills are far steeper than you remember, and the only place to pitch your tent is sloped - well, at such moments, the whole world and all its concerns slip away, and you find yourself standing on inner ground.
I was surprised at the state of mine. I believed the trials I've gone through these past couple of years had broken it into an archipelago of doubts, fragilities, brave mountains, wild shores. But I learned too that I have a little Lookfar of my own. And bridges I never appreciated before.
I think often about the kind of place I want to live, the kind of environment I want surrounding me. I dream of more trees, more quiet, fewer neighbours, a diversity of birds. Truth is, though, there is no more important environment for a woman that that inner ground. It is her real home.