I was listening to the news on the car radio as I drove over to my friend’s house and there were reports of nuclear threats, financial crime and snow in England, in spring. There certainly was snow, falling in hurried flurries – a strange mix of spring and winter, for which I’ve found a new word: Sprwingter.

To get to my friend’s house I passed through the cemetery, which was peaceful as ever, despite the sound of police sirens in the distance.

I walked along the winding path toward the sweet little cottage, hidden in the beauty of the West Sussex countryside and with thoughts of the train we were about to catch to London floating through my mind, I caught sight of a blackbird just a few feet away. I stopped and looked at the bird. It looked back.

We met in the immediacy of the moment and I somehow knew that the blackbird was living in utter truth. The truth of this moment, as it is.

In the midst of chaos and disorder, the blackbird spoke its silent message.

‘Look! There is no death. There is only life. There is nothing to fear… not even nothing. Look and be! Do not see with eyes alone.’

And with that, the blackbird was gone. And the snow fell, following it’s intuition.