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  • Writer's pictureLuke Dowding

Inspired By The Movement

I have that feeling that only appears when I’m on the move. It is physical, in that it seems to give energy to my hands so that I can type – corresponding with a swirling sensation in my chest. It is also emotional, as it prompts excitement at the prospect of what might come from the tips of my fingers – no plan or sense of direction.

Today I’ve spent the majority of the day in one seat, travelling from Napoli to Palermo by train – this has only briefly been interrupted during our ferry crossing in which the entire train is shunted onto the boat, and when I’ve occasionally needed to make use of the train’s spartan facilities. Otherwise I’ve worked on emails and finished a book I only started 24 hours ago. It is ironic then, that with 25 minutes to go until we arrive in Palermo – it is only now that I felt this spark, this urge to write.

Perhaps that says something about me, about where to find the source of that which drives me. Or perhaps it could be the time of day, watching the sun slowly lower in the sky and change the harsh bright light of day into those subtle and seductive evening hues – that golden hour light that everyone likes to harp on about so much.

We’re all a product of the internal and external after all, the physical and emotional, the practical and the spontaneous. It’s likely that the equilibrium of those elements was just so, prompting the flame to burst into life and for me to write as if someone is whispering the words into my ear: freely, and with little pause for thought.

Finding something that brings life, that doesn’t just spark joy but causes flames to erupt, that brings the seemingly conflicting parts of us into balance, that is what we all need. Since leaving London some 52 hours ago, not even 3 days, I have managed to feel both exhausted and wide-awake, drained but full of life. I am on the move again, and it is that feeling of movement – to be in pursuit of something even if it remains unknown, that brings the parts of me into balance.

The words are beginning to dry up, the whispering in my ear is slowing.

The train keeps moving, the light on the water continues to glow.

Travelling in balance; inspired by the movement.

Post Script

As I closed my laptop the train began to slow on our approach to Palermo. The words had run out just in time.

The ferry crossing from mainland Italy to Sicily, 24th July 2020.


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