YESTERDAY’S PEACEFUL reflection gave way to a debilitating migraine-level headache. Frightening afflictions, any pretensions to Superman status in this least superman-like creature on the planet are firmly quashed by such events, perhaps half a dozen times a year.

Good, deep sleep has done its healing work and I’m beginning Wednesday morning just slightly “foggy”. But, short of being hit over the head with a mallet, I’m almost always too inclined to leap straight back into (further debilitating) action again, notwithstanding all my long experience and talk of reflection and the benefits of living life at a slower pace.

Why? Why do we do this to ourselves? We know what the outcome will be, for the world, for nations, for institutions, for families, for friendships, for persons. I need perspective. I need to place my life in the context of a much bigger enterprise. I don’t want to slow down to the point of stopping, whilst not wanting to keep running until I smash face-first into a brick wall either.

I need to make time (4 minutes in this case), to contemplate, to loosen uptight shoulders, to breathe, to consider the glory and the wonder and the majesty of the gift of life. So I’m going to look again at Skye with David Watson’s eye. And then I’ll get cracking …