Filming a local 3½ mile loop through the fields of Horton Kirby and South Darenth.
Do you ever get that undeniable feeling that some things are just not meant to be? That no matter how meticulously you plan, how eagerly you prepare, an unseen force seems to be gently – or sometimes not so gently – nudging you in an entirely different direction? It's a feeling as frustrating as it is oddly liberating, a quiet surrender to the flow of life's unpredictable currents.
Such was the morning I embarked on what was meant to be a tranquil, picturesque walk – one designed not just for personal enjoyment, but for capturing some peaceful footage. My rucksack was packed with essentials, my camera charged, and my spirits high as I left the house promptly at 9 am, ready to immerse myself in nature.
My chosen starting point promised serenity, a gentle introduction to the day's adventure. But upon arrival, the universe offered its first polite, yet firm, suggestion: "Not today." Instead of the quiet rustle of leaves, I was greeted by the deafening cacophony of power tools, as construction workers industriously chipped away at a flint wall. Filming anything here would be an exercise in futility, a soundtrack of drills and hammers replacing birdsong.
Undeterred, and ever the optimist, I continued down the path, hoping to outrun the mechanical symphony. Perhaps a little further on, peace would prevail? But the trail merely led me into another unexpected throng – a bustling parade of exuberant dog walkers and lively children, their joyful shouts and playful barks echoing through the narrow pathways. While delightful in their own right, this was hardly the tranquil backdrop I needed for an uninterrupted recording session.
It was at this point that Plan B was quickly hatched, a testament to the importance of flexibility. Instead of battling the noise and the crowds on foot, I decided to drive part of the route, aiming to leapfrog the problematic sections and find a quiet haven further along.
And what a fortuitous decision that proved to be! This brief detour revealed the true, unspoken reason why this particular walk, on this particular morning, was destined to be aborted. I hadn't considered the season. It dawned on me as I drove past fields of verdant green and golden yellow: the wheat and corn were not just tall, they were over 90cm high! The narrow paths I'd envisioned winding through these fields would have been completely swallowed by the towering crops, making any attempt at capturing good video footage nearly impossible. I would have been battling an impenetrable wall of stalks, my camera lens perpetually obscured.
So, just like that, the decision was made. The walk, at least for filming purposes, had to be aborted. It wasn't a defeat; it was a realisation. A moment of clarity where the cumulative signs – the noise, the crowds, and ultimately, nature's own overwhelming growth – converged to deliver the clear message: this wasn't the day for this particular adventure.
Sometimes, the best-laid plans unravel not because of a lack of effort or enthusiasm, but because the timing, the conditions, or simply the inherent nature of things isn't aligned. It's a gentle reminder that life often has its own agenda, and our ability to listen to these subtle cues – to pivot, to adapt, or to simply let go – is a valuable skill.
This unexpected morning taught me that embracing the "not meant to be" moments isn't about giving up; it's about acknowledging reality, saving yourself unnecessary frustration, and opening the door for a different, perhaps even better, opportunity down the line. There will always be another day, another path, waiting to reveal itself when the time is truly right.
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