Background to In Windswept Fields

How the Vision of Windswept Fields came about...

During the onset of my strange malady, before it had fully manifested on the physical level, I'd found temporary solace in a routine, once or twice weekly, of walking along by the river for a mile or two. Thus, one summer's day in '91, I set out for my usual jaunt. That particular day, gloriously sunny and warm, I was in an especially desperate mood, grieving over X---'s departure, and following the trail by instinct alone, oblivious to my surroundings. Reaching as far as a little wooden footbridge, I leaned on the railing to smoke a cigarette, and gazed into the water; gradually, my mood began to lift. Instead of being just the victim of my emotions, I began to reflect on the meaning of it all: what lessons could be learned from the fiasco with X--- and what lessons from our time together? What had it all meant? Had it meant anything? And so on.

Starting the trek back, I came upon a field of rape plants. Their brilliant yellow, rendered even more intense by the sun high in the cloudless sky, caught my attention, and I was struck by the solid mass of colour, each plant standing tall and proud, motionless on that windless day. Slowing almost to a standstill, I looked, and really saw, and random thoughts assembled in my mind. For some reason (even now I know not why), that field became transformed in my mind into another field - a field of corn. And, as it did, so my thoughts jostled into order.

From the pathway, all those plants looked the same - similar height, similar size, and similar shape. Difficult to tell one from another, and all were, of course, growing up toward the Sun, as though drawn by it as by some curious magnetic attraction, jostling with each other, as it were, to get the best for themselves. Yet, I knew that were I some small animal or insect, able to walk between each of those so similar plants, and see them as though they were mighty trees, each of the many thousands there would be different. Each one unique in it's own special way, each with a life of its own. And as I thought this, so, too, I thought of the plants I couldn't see. I thought of those that had been trampled by some rampaging dog. Of those that had failed in their struggle up toward the Sun, forever in the shadow of their stronger brothers; poor, limp things, deprived of life-giving rays, and doomed to die in green-tinged darkness. Of those, on the very edges of the field, that had been blown and broken by gale-force wind. And of those that were diseased, acting host to some crop blight, which, in its own way, was only trying to survive.

Yet all of those plants, were they able, still tried to reach up toward the Sun, driven by some force that seemed to go beyond the life of each. A force that could not be repressed, a force that took no account of handicap, but seemed always to seek the line of least resistance. As I saw all of this, I thought of other plants: of trees and bushes, of blades of grass, of the pampered houseplant, and the humble weed. Even as I write this, I am, again, transported back to that riverside path, feeling the Life radiating from all growing things, awed by their tenacity, and unthinking reaching for the very thing which gives them life, and sustains their growth.

How many of us have seen a blade of grass, pushing up between concrete slabs, growing where no sensible thing ever would? How many of us have seen an asphalt path, totally disrupted by the undermining roots of a tree? What power and strength there must be in these things; yet how easily may a leaf be crushed between one's fingers. In what then is this power and strength, this tenacity, this sheer bloody-minded determination? It is as though everything wants to live, to grow, despite all setback and obstacle, and will live and grow, given half a chance. And, surely, this is the most natural thing in the world. So natural we seldom notice it, seldom think of it, and, when it is brought to our attention, dismiss such observation as corny, trite, even naïve.

How easily is the great mystery of all Being dismissed. How sad that we should have become so engrossed with our petty pursuits that we lose sight of that which is truly a miracle. Have become so smitten by the 'cleverness' and sophistication of our own 'thinking' that we lose the ability to see the true Magic in everything around us. Even worse, have become ashamed of that ability, and dismiss it as 'childish'. In our 'sophistication', we tear things apart, unable to live comfortably with mysteries, and determined that no one else shall, either; but our best efforts to explain 'why' only answer 'how'. We can analyse and (possibly) understand the mechanics of the process, but none of that explains why. Why should it be that certain combinations of elements should behave in such a way that we say that they exhibit the property of 'life'? Why should it be that any such combination should do so? Why is it not that all matter is simply inorganic? Yet even 'inorganic' matter behaves according to set 'physical laws' - why? Is not such observance of order itself Life, ever questing for lines of least resistance, ever bringing into being, then seeking the 'best' medium, so that it may manifest in full and glorious splendour?

It is not necessary to believe in a god or a goddess to see what is so obvious. To see that all things stand witness to the existence of a 'power' or influence that lies beyond the realm of matter, space, and time, perhaps even beyond the realm of 'Life'. A power, moreover, which is irrepressible, which is creative, which is ordering; a power that is coming into being all the time, and ever seeks better ways to express itself. From the first pulse, the first emerging of potential, through 'matter', to the highest manifestations of what we call 'life' - are not they all just the outer forms of one underlying 'thing'?

As I saw all of this, I realised for the first time that we, too, are like a field of corn; like the field of rape that I had by then left behind. Maybe our Sun is not the golden orb in the sky, but that 'influence' which represents itself as Life. And do we not instinctively reach toward it, in everything we do? We may not always understand that which draws us, we may mistake it for something else, we may even lose ourselves in substitutes and imitations (products of our own 'clever thinking'); but the driving force behind all our unconscious effort is, surely, the same. We have an entire vocabulary dedicated to witnessing the presence of this force. Words like pain, suffering, illness, hunger, boredom, despair, fear, anxiety, misery, grief, doubt, loneliness, turmoil. Do not these words describe states that we instinctively veer away from, which we instinctively seek to escape from, toward - what?

And can it not be said that what is so much an intrinsic part of our being that it guides everything we do, even in states of unawareness, must be 'right'; the right way to be? In the same sense, can it not be said that good health, too, is the right way to be? Surely, the simple fact that the body possesses an underlying tendency to heal itself, even, on occasion, to regenerate itself, is testimony, more than anything else, that good health is the right way to be. A plant, tended and well-cared for, will turn toward the Sun, growing healthy, true, and straight. This must also apply to us. We too, tended and well cared for, will grow 'true and straight' - healthy.

If this is the 'right way', then all the things which hinder us and interfere with this process, our own 'rampaging dog', 'gale-force wind', or 'crop blight', are things to be overcome, to be resisted, to be left behind as we bend our wills to our growing true and straight. Surely then, we have a duty, to ourselves and to this mysterious influence: a duty to facilitate Its expression, by providing It with a 'line of least resistance', by living in the 'right way', by tending and caring for ourselves!

Thus was the Vision that finally, years later, found form with 'In Windswept Fields'. That Vision's effect upon me was incredible. I felt buoyant, 'lifted up', and alive; suddenly, my travail was, for those moments, diminished by the awareness of a greater reality. I began to perceive some sort of strategy behind all that had happened, and my life again took on meaning.

Naturally, such a momentous experience had to be shared, and who better to share it with than Z---, that stalwart friend and companion, who had so often borne the brunt of my outpourings.

During the ensuing months, we talked about the notion of growing true and straight, of its application in our daily lives and of its relationship to health and the 'right way to be'. Those talks helped me to bring certain ideas into sharp focus. The Vision had, so I believed, granted me an insight into the functioning of a universal principle, applicable at every level of existence, which is superior even to the perceived cycles of life and death, of growth and decay. It had shown me that such 'fluctuations' are subordinate to the overall evolution of Life, with which we identify by our unconscious pursuit of health, growth, and regeneration; and which we unconsciously manifest with our creative impulses. The whole was shown to me, like a parable, in the form of 'growing true and straight'.

The conscious realisation of this evolutionary 'urge to Life', whereby we may actively and consciously pursue the imperative of growing true and straight, enables the whole process, hitherto dependent upon randomness, chance, and natural selection, finally to be directed by intelligent deliberation. However, if we are to consciously and intelligently direct the process of growing true and straight, then surely we must first identify not only those things that assist in the process, but also those things that hinder it; those things that stunt, twist, and distort.

In Windswept Fields

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