A time for quiet contemplation and coming together.

We’re fortunate to live 10 minutes on the tube from the centre of London and 10 minutes walk from quiet marshland and wetlands that make up this area of the Lea Valley. I love that contrast of the busy and the quiet, the urban and the natural.

I had a break between meetings on Tuesday and the sun was shining. With autumn closing in, it felt important to get outside. A feeling that this might be the last nice day.

I have a tendency to plug in when I walk. I’ll listen to a podcast or some music. I picked up my headphones but never turned them on.

After a short walk down the River Lea and over the bridge at Springfield Park, there is a small wooded area on Walthamstow Marshes. It is often a good place to see a range of small birds that enjoy the undergrowth.

I took my normal route over a small bridge and into the most dense area of trees. I reached a point where the path splits three ways. A few metres along one of the paths was a man from the Haredi Jewish community, looking into the trees. He was an older man, with a long grey beard. He didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular, just taking some time to contemplate. His hat was resting on a nearby tree, his head slightly bowed.

I paused for a moment. He seemed aware of my presence but didn’t look up. I briefly thought about talking to him but I decided to keep moving and leave him to his thoughts. He seemed aware of my presence but didn’t look up.

I continued walking on my loop to the wetlands. A few people walked past with buggies, other people out running. I turned into the Wetlands and began walking along the reservoir, it was warmer than I was expecting. A yellow wagtail was hopping around looking for food, while coots chased each other across the water.

I went to a spot where you can often see kingfishers and saw one flash past. I tried to follow its path but my view was obstructed and I lost sight of it.

As I made my way through the marshes I saw more people sitting alone. A white man in his 60s was sat with a book that he wasn’t reading. In the hide was a young woman with a notebook and pen, looking out the window. Further along, another person was sat by the water with their bike parked against a tree.

It may have been a coincidence, or I was projecting my own feelings but it felt like a day when people needed some time to be alone. To be with their thoughts. To stop and reflect on all that is happening for them and in the world.

This afternoon there is a soup festival at our daughter’s school. Adjacent to the school there is sheltered housing and a number of residents will come along and spend time with the families from the school. A chance to come together as a community, to share our food and our experiences.

I‘m grateful for both the quiet and the busy, the chance to be alone and to be connected.