How absurd to allow oneself to become so anxious over a medical appointment.
Perhaps it was that the doctor has a “scary” sounding name and looks like a potential terrorist.
Or like not a few petty officials who sought to ruin my day in the past.
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But surely I know better than to generalise or to make assumptions? After all, a much vaster number of men just like that doctor were congenial.
And in fact the doctor himself is perfectly nice, not at all intimidating.
Thinking about it, I realise my anxiety was nothing at all to do with him.
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It was all to do with my terror of public speaking. Any kind of public speaking.
For the whole of my 38 years with the airline, I was afraid of looking like an idiot.
In my college years I dreaded having to speak or, God forbid make a presentation in front of a class.
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It was an interesting occupation I chose for myself, considering I would likely be dealing with the travelling public a great deal of the time.
Perhaps I’ll come back to this.
But I took some photographs of our trip, to Queensbury this time.
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The sky seemed to promise more rain
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Turning off the main road in Greenwich, the driver lamented when a truck load of lumber got in front of us.
“Oh no!” he moaned.
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But that driver was in a tearing hurry.
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Like he was driving a getaway vehicle.
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Speedy soon shot off round a bend,
and disappeared from view.
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Then we had the road to ourselves.
Our route took us through open countryside where the sky seems to touch the ground.
On windy days, you feel that you may be blown off into Space. I can understand kenophobia, though luckily I do not suffer from it.
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Are all these empty roads I photograph a metaphor?
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An un-hampered journey
to an unknown destination?
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What we are drawn to is evidence of what we feel, what we care for.
My road through life was often cluttered with difficult people and complications.
How I yearned for a certain destination and a clear route.
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There were some quite dark times.
What was the light that kept me going?
It was never one single bright light but more a series of sparks.
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And sometimes a sudden conflagration, like the Sun chasing a storm cloud.
Along the way I was helped by a whole series of people who probably never realised they mattered so much. It was small kindnesses, a moment of attention when I needed it, a word of encouragement.
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Never discount the smiles you give, or the word of thanks. Those small gestures you think are insignificant can make a greater difference than you might imagine.
If my road was sometimes rough, it wasn’t always. Portions were smooth going.
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Those times were enough to boost me, to keep me going toward the next beacon.
Also, along the way I learned valuable lessons.
Appreciate those good things in life.
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Perspective.
Seeing a subject in a different light:
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Being able to find my horizons.
While I am not seriously claustrophobic, I always need to know where the exits are.
The value of elbow room!
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By great good fortune, I found my horizons.
And, not that I had ever doubted its value, I made a connection with Nature.
See, down in the field, on the right?
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Days may go by, weeks even, without spotting deer but I enjoy knowing they are around.
Each sighting something special.
Yesterday provided an extra treat.
As we drove slowly past the pond:
Not wanting to scare them, we did not stop but I was granted a couple of photographs.
Good snapshots
Thank you, Carolyn, for your philosophical musing, and excellent, as always pictures.
Joanna
I really love these moody shots, whether deserted, or occupied!
Oh my, if a doctor looks like a terrorist – I don’t know if it’s funny or scary!! I love your road trips … and even more so when I saw the lovely deer. From a very young age, my mother taught me that a smile and saying thank you can mean something to someone else. For me, smiling comes very easily … and I always hope other people will see it’s genuine. Thanks for the new word – kenophobia. I certainly don’t suffer from it 🙂.
You are indeed lucky to have such empty roads. I always think the country roads around Beetley are very quiet, but compared to those in your photos, they are obviously nothing of the kind.
Best wishes, Pete.