I remember that I was out walking shortly after my friend Oli had passed away, there was an underpass on the route I regularly took which had been painted with a beautiful piece of graffiti art, the painting consisted of a boat in the harbour and the sun emerging in the distance, above it read ‘hope is on the horizon’. I remember reaching this underpass, looking at the painting, and as I did so the clouds opened and one of the heaviest rain storms I had ever witnessed took hold. Sheltered in the underpass something told me that I needed to walk into the rain, I felt stupid for doing so at the time, I could have easily sat under shelter, admiring the painting and seeing out the storm. Instead I felt compelled to walk straight into the heart of it. Less than thirty seconds later, pushing through the rain and walking round the corner I was confronted with a burst of sunshine between the clouds and the most incredible rainbow emerging on the horizon. Take from this what you will, whether it be a beautiful coincidence that took on extra significance in a moment of grief or a sign from something greater than ourselves, who knows, I’ve never attached an explanation beyond a knowledge that it was exactly what I needed to see in that moment. A lesson in not shying away from the difficult and uncomfortable and being rewarded with life’s treasures in amongst grief. I’m currently reading Viktor Frankl’s book ‘man’s search for meaning’. In it he describes the incredible ability of human beings to find meaning in the most horrific and seemingly desperate moments. Himself having lived through the war in German concentration camps, losing his wife and being subject to some of the greatest crimes in human history, it is incredibly inspiring to hear of his ability to avoid the nihilism and despondency that one would expect from someone who has seen such brutality. Frankl believes that we always have something we can choose to live for, something that imbues our days with meaning. For him he had a book that he wanted to write, a book he had already written but that had been burnt by the Nazis when he was taken prisoner. He held onto the hope of getting out alive and being able to re-write the words that he felt compelled to share. I think this meaning can be hard to find but I think it is available to all of us. It doesn’t have to be grand but I think if we’re honest with ourselves and if we’re able to sit and listen there is something that our souls are crying out for. That may be something that is never shared with the world, it may be poetry that you write for yourself that will never see the light of day, it may be a skill you wish to learn just for the joy of the craft or it may be screenplay you always wanted to write but never thought your talent justified the effort. The end result is not the point, it is through allowing ourselves to indulge our yearnings that allow us to find meaning in our existence. I say this as someone who often feels stuck and unsure of my path but I do know that when I’m doing the right things my whole being lights up. That’s what I try to follow these days as much as possible, those little sparks of joy.