Saturday, 23 March 2013

Finding your way home.

When I was about five, one of my Christmas presents from my parents was a little black screw-top pocket compass made by the toy company Merit. It went absolutely everywhere with me. I loved it.

When I was forty I spent a year travelling the world and the pocket compass went with me, tucked into my wash bag. While it was hardly practical (it was just a toy, for goodness' sake) it symbolised something important, for I believed that if I ever became lost, it was a reminder that I could always find my way home. Now I'm in my fifties it's beside the computer as I type this. I still treasure it all these years later. Isn't it odd that an inanimate object can offer such reassurance?

I bet there's something you own which may have a similar effect on you, and if it's not already to hand, dig it out and leave it somewhere so you'll see it from time to time. It can be a real comfort.