Tuesday 19 January
I have to confess that my interest in ghost stories has a danger of becoming an obsession. Not the tacky, predictable, toffee-apple stories of white sheeted apparitions of the last day of October. I have become gripped, as generations have before me, of the supernatural stories that were popular at the turn of the nineteenth century and the two or three decades that followed.
This past week or so, with the continued dark evening’s and time sat in front of the fire of an evening, I have been reading the stories of E F Benson. And have become a bit of an addict. In a similar style to his friend, M R James, he made his stories rich in their connections to nature and the countryside; the people who lived there, past and present and the folklore that passed through generations.
I have just finished the short story ‘The Man who went too Far’. And as the title would suggest it, the main character ‘plays’ with more than he should until forces outside of his reckoning steal him of his life.
But throughout the story, he appears to have everything in perfect perspective. He shuns the modern world (of 1912) and it’s Christian ways for a more pagan appreciation of nature and, in particular, the large woodland that borders his house.
It made me draw parallels with how we (I) have turned our gaze to the beauty of the natural world around us over the past year specifically. The draw of the trees, the sky and the animals that orchestrate the sounds that have become so important to our daily tonic.
In the story, Frank rejects Christ and embraces a simpler devotion of Pan, and he would seem to benefit from it. He gains energy and youth, belying his years, but at the same time concedes that there must be a price to pay for this revelation. A price which he is prepared to pay as he has become closer than anyone to the spirit of nature and his life, soon to be cut short, is better for it.
I find it fascinating how, at our core, we have always bent the knee to the natural world. Understandable really, as we owe literally everything to it. And yet, we seem unaware of the impact we are having on it, or even the apathy we show to understanding it better. Even the smallest patches of green space right outside our doors. Although I don’t necessarily want to dance to Pan’s pipes, I know that my life has been enriched by taking more care of, and interest in, the life and landacape that I am a part of.
The Bald Birder 