I don’t know Colin. I never have and never will because he’s not living anymore. He is remembered by the seat I’m sitting on. It’s not one of the wooden benches with the commemorative plaques that have become a popular memorial to lost loved ones. Colin’s seat is a black metal frame with his name painted underneath, there is no back rest which forces you to sit upright. I like it simplicity.
It offers bikers and walkers a rest and a sandwich stop at the top of a short, steep bank on the coast to coast cycle route and overlooks part of the Derwent valley. On one side you have a rolling green valley and on the other there’s a moor laden with heather. Behind the seat is a small copse of pine trees on an otherwise open stretch of the track. It’s a busy route and doubtless thousands of sweaty bums have parked themselves on Colin’s seat. Mine included.
For a while I thought about trying to find out who Colin was. I had no second name to go on, just Colin. I asked around but no one could tell me who Colin might be, most people I asked hadn’t noticed his name on the seat as they puffed and panted up the hill to get there.
But I realised it wasn’t just the who I was interested in. It was the why. I wanted to know why Colin came here, how he felt when he was sitting or standing in that spot? Did he find peace there? Did that spot retain any of his spirit, his energy?
I imagined him escaping to the countryside much like I do, I wondered whether he was happily retired and whether the walking was part of a daily routine, maybe with the dog, a terrier or spaniel perhaps? I wondered whether he took time to reflect on the goings on in his life, whether it was a place he could shed his anxieties and recover his vim. Did he close his eyes and feel the sun on his face? Was he someone who liked his own space, preferring to walk alone to walking with friends? Was it a vantage point from which he’d observe the seasonal changes, the growth of new life and did he share the satisfaction I felt in being able to witness it all?
Did he stick to the path or cross some of the more demanding terrain which cut him across the valley? Did Colin feel a sense of freedom that allowed him to wander or did he prefer the structure of his journey, the certainty of paths? Was he more of an explorer or was he an observer, or both?
I guess I hoped he was both and that his connection to the place meant something to him as it did to me. I hoped that now and again he’d climb a fence he wasn’t supposed to and that he’d stumble across a hidden pond or place where he could sit with his lunch box. Maybe he’d take off his socks and shoes and put his feet in a stream. I hoped he’d find a nest or a sleeping tawny owl tucked up against a tree trunk.
I hoped that if he was feeling anxious or worried about things in his life, he could find some peace and give himself a chance to recover, to recharge his energy, to navigate away from dark places so he could again be strong and resilient. I want to believe this was a happy place for him which is why his family and friends placed the bench on the hill. Colin’s bench.
Since I began to write this blog, I have learned that Colin was in fact Sergeant Major Colin Wall, one of three men military policemen murdered in a drive by shooting in the Iraqi city of Basra in 2003. He was 34 years old and a father of three. RIP Colin. There is also another wooden bench further along the cycle track which is dedicated to Colin. His family visited this bench in 2011.
Mindful of Change
I’ve struggled a bit of late with anxiety. It’s the first time I’ve really experienced the symptoms of it. Shortness of breath, heart beating like a rabbit’s and a constricted feeling in the the throat,chest and stomach. Deeply unpleasant and quite worrying as you think you’re about to have heart failure. Even more worrying is that they seemed to have come out of the blue. On reflection, I have an awful lot going on in my life and things, in some ways, are coming to a head, so I think this has been my body’s way of saying, your mind is overloaded, give it a break and ease off a little.
Having spoken to a doctor and climbed a pretty steep mountain, I’m feeling ok about my heart and lungs which in turn has eased my anxiety. I know I’m one of millions of people who have experienced these symptoms. Whilst getting to the route of the anxiety is essential in controlling it and ultimately eliminating the physical effects, I’ve used two strategies for easing it over the past week or so which have certainly helped me get things back on an even keel.
Mindfulness
I have spent some time trying to relax the mind and control my breathing. Mindfulness meditation helps you do this. I know a lot of people incorporate it into their daily lives and use it to relax themselves, improve the pathways of thought and reduce stress and anxiety. Over the years people have mentioned many fantastic exponents of mindfulness and whilst I’ve scribbled things down, I have never really committed any time to it. However, over the past week or so I have listened to the following link that my brother recommended. It has been pretty helpful. It’s only around six minutes and I’ve tried not to do it when I’ve been too tired. Like anything you need to practice and find a programme that is right for you.
Green and Blue
I have also tried to walk wherever it is green and with the emergence of something like a summertime, the trees are greening up everywhere. Green exercise is known to have mental health benefits and it gives you that feeling of space which counteracts the constricted feelings associated with anxiety. With space comes that feeling of having time. Whilst you’re walking you can reflect, think things through or close yourself off to the pressures and just focus on what’s around you. At this time of year, this is easier as the colours of spring and summer provide a sensory overload which again can detract from internal pressures.
Being around water has similar calming effects. From the lapping of waves to the trickling of streams. The sounds played into many a spa treatment room. Whether it’s gazing out to the vastness of the sea or skirting the shoreline of a lake there is an almost hypnotic pull towards it. The cold clean air can only be a positive and time beside water it often leads to better sleep as the mind begins to settle.
Anxiety,stress, depression are constant companions to many in the modern world. We need tools to look after ourselves. Some of those tools are freely available, in us and around us but we have to make use of them. This year has reminded me our lives are short, time is finite and we never know what is around the corner. I think of Colin the soldier and realise we all have to battle on.
