A few questions entered my mind the other day as I walked around a pond on the outskirts of Dublin.
The first one was a strange question: ‘Where do swans go to die?’
I have never seen a dead swan before. Are they that graceful that they go somewhere out of sight? They say a swan might live for 30 years. But do they? Or do they actually live forever?
A magical place all fluffy and white is what I like to imagine.
The other question was deeper still: ‘What will they live through?’
These two young swans have yet to earn their beautiful adult plumage. The world around them may be moving fast but they remain slow and steady.
Do they even care that the Republic of Ireland is watching on nervously as the UK start to wave goodbye to an increasingly fragile Europe. Scotland sitting on one of England’s shoulders whispering words like ‘independence’ and ‘referendum’, whilst on the other Northern Ireland is building up the courage to do the same.
Will these two swans witness a united Ireland in their lifetime?
Will they care?
I shouldn’t go for relaxing walks around ponds too much, it leaves me mentally drained. Maybe slow and steady is the answer. Or maybe that allows for too much over-thinking and not enough listening and reacting and dreaming.