Month: May 2024

Nectar for the soul

Last week I wrote about the connection between diet and the resulting gut bacteria upon mood, energy levels and body size. It’s not a new idea that what we eat impacts what we feel. However, it may be novel to implement such knowledge via consistent action!

I am grateful that I mastered the art of maintaining a healthy diet (mostly) along with regular exercise over a decade ago. The key has been choosing exercise that I genuinely enjoy – my preferences are changing as part of middle aging – but I maintain movement and I eat food that I find nutritious and tasty. (with a bit of crap here and there too – gotta keep it real).

However, when it comes to consistently satisfying my deeper hungers, I’ve been a bit more sporadic. And less successful. Typically, in January, I have done what most people do then with diet and exercise. I’ve gone hell for leather committing to activities that satisfy my deeper hungers throughout January. But I gradually stop doing these things during February, or maybe March on a good year!  As with many things, this can happen so subtly that I don’t notice it. There is room for improvement!

I’ve been reminded of this again recently while I’ve watched the birds and the bees busying themselves with the business of food. Whether the blue tits feeding their young, the bee’s feasting on flower nectar or even the hummingbird on my screen saver. The bees seem to particularly enjoy the jasmine flowers’ offerings as well as those of a purple flower whose name I do not know. See pic. Answers on a post please.

As I’ve watched the wildlife, I’ve realised that I’ve often treated my deeper hungers like something I can satisfy here and there. When I think about this, I realise it is a bit like having my breakfast on Monday morning and then not bothering to re-fuel for the rest of the week. In other words, completely ridiculous if I’m expecting to experience the benefits of feeding the deeper appetites, in any consistent way. Or to avoid the consequences of not doing so.

I have certainly fallen in to the trap of, ‘I feel good’ (gotta love a bit of Jimbo Brown) so I can skip sustaining all the things that keep me feeling good! A bit like how I used to exercise and diet until I reached my desired weight then revert to old habits which restored my old weight! I was caught in that cycle for many years. But I’ve basically been doing the equivalent with my mental and emotional health.

Cue … time for a different more consistent approach if wishing to experience a different more consistent reality! And a better one at that where I feel good more of the time. I’ll just caveat that with the fact that no-one feels good all the time. But we can do things that support or undermine our experience.

Here’s how I try to commit to maintaining my mental and emotional health. First, I know what works as nectar for my soul. And as one who loves a list and a plan, I regularly write lists about this. My latest list looks something like this:

  • Pray. A lot. (this used to be at the bottom until I realised it helps with the rest!)
  • Nature, Nature, Nature
  • Get to bed early – I’m a lark all the way & a miserable bugger without enough kip
  • Eat healthily as the norm, eat unhealthily in moderation
  • Move; walk, run, cycle, swim (out of desire not duty, mostly)
  • Stretch, breathe, be in my body, aided by Pilates & Yoga, Open Movement/5 R’s
  • Read, write, reflect
  • Sing/dance/listen to music
  • Watch films that move me/make me think
  • Bake
  • Share my heart with trusted friends & respectfully hear theirs
  • Photography
  • Massage/reflexology
  • Rest, rest, rest (still rubbish at this)

I know myself well enough to know what nourishes me – my challenge is to understand that these are not optional extra’s but as necessary as the work of adulting. So I need to schedule times to make them happen with as much commitment as I schedule in my work.

As with all areas of life, if I do not implement what I know I cannot expect to enjoy the benefits of doing so! Or avoid the cost of failing to.

A proactive approach to satisfying the deeper hungers for maintaining good mental and emotional health is essential. And it’s ok to fail or fall short (I’m quite the pro at this!) so long as we’re willing to try one more time than we fail. And it’s important to understand that any prolonged failing to maintain mental and emotional health can cause physical ailments too. The mind and body are linked and the health of each effects/affects the other.

What is your nectar for the soul?

Marley models redemption

Recently my partner and I watched One Love at the cinema (not Cine-yukky- tech-stress inducing-world). What jumped out was how young Marley was when he died at just thirty-six. I still don’t know whether this could have been avoided if he’d got his trotter sorted earlier. The other thing was how broken he was before he picked himself back up to start what would be the last run of his music. The one that resulted in the Redemption song.

Like a lot of us, I love a true story. Even more when people show their real struggles, how they find their way through and how they live with whatever their set of challenges are. Anyone who practises super shiny polished ‘I’ve got all my shit together’ persona’s, turn me right off. Let’s face it, bs stinks; our own or other peoples.

Personally, I love all things music, I just lack musical ability. But I love listening to it, singing, feeling it and dancing. My church very graciously allows me to sing in their worship team. This despite having a deficit of technical skills. I dread the request, ‘Jo, give us a C’, as I have nought knowledge about any letters of the musical alphabet.

However, I do love singing to and about God even if it is with more enthusiasm than ability or finesse. And I’ve always loved to dance. Upon seeing a circular area on the waiting area of Argos many years ago with the music playing overhead, my eyes lit up. When my friend saw me she knew exactly what I was thinking and immediately urged me ‘don’t Jo, just don’t’! I wasn’t as free from people pleasing back then so I didn’t! But these days if the urge to dance takes me, I go with it! It’s no issue for me to hurl myself around a dancefloor completely unaccompanied while drinking nothing stronger than H20.

But back to Bob, who I thought and still think is a legend. I love Bob’s music which has ministered to me at numerous times, in numerous ways over the years. Once when awaiting a plane at an American Airport, I was feeling very distressed. Suddenly, I noticed that’s Bob’s song, ‘Don’t worry’, was playing in the Airport lounge. It made me smile when I feared it would be a while before I managed anything remotely resembling one of those! It was like God Himself drew my ears to the music and my heart to the lyrics. As if wanting to reassure me that I would be ok and I was not forgotten by Him or alone with my upset. God basically used the music of Marley to reach me when I was miles away from anyone else who may have reached me.

As for the ‘three little birds’ song, obviously I LOVE this song!!

Anyway, I’m writing about Bob because during a recent discussion, his drug taking came up. For some, I think this may get him and his music written off as ‘bad’. But for me, whether you approve or disapprove of Marleys leanings or lifestyle, he preached love through his music. And he modelled redemption through his actions. Was he perfect? No, but are any of us?

I’m not sure how accurate the film was but it showed Marley look the guy who shot him in the eye and forgive him. I think the shootee aka Marley was releasing the shooter from any kind of debt. He reminded the shootee that he could free himself from slavery to anything other than love. He had a choice just like we all do.

I’m certainly grateful that God has redeemed me from my many years of messiness. And that within his love, I can continue to seek deeper levels of freedom. This isn’t a place I get to but a commitment to continue learning along the way. Freedom deepens when I recognise what is holding me back, down, or away from the fullest version of this thing called life. (usually me!). And then choose to actively do something about it!

Relentless rain equals reading, writing but no (a)rithmetic

According to my weather forecast there will be rain on nine out of the next fourteen days! For anyone basing their moods upon the weather, it may be time for a new approach or failing that, to move country! But let’s not forget that the weather forecast is open to change and often wrong. This whether the weather is wet when it said it wouldn’t be or dry when it said it would be. The latter is preferable, at least to me.

I certainly appreciated the sun popping out right from the start of my garden party yesterday. This despite ‘she of little faith’ setting it up to be inside! And I appreciated the sun staying mostly out and the Heavens holding entirely back until we were finished. A garden party isn’t quite the same when not in the garden.

When the weather dictates the need to be inside as much as it currently is, I appreciate the outside opportunities even more. This year certainly appears to be excelling in the prevalence and presence of sun obscuring, rain releasing clouds. Not my favourite weather but another of life’s chances to practise how we respond to that which we cannot control.

What I do miss is not being able to have my breakfast outside with the birds, the bee’s, and the ginger boy. Perhaps this is helping however in adjusting to the fledglings who have flown the nest. I became quite attached to them over the previous few weeks. I’ve enjoyed watching the parents busily flying back and forth to feed their growing flock. Such a show of commitment and care.

When I first noticed these blue tits had made their home in the box at the side of my house, I could only hear the baby’s ‘feed me’ chattering’s coming from within. It was their parents feeding them from outside the box that alerted me to their presence. Then I started to spot the baby blue tit beaks poking through their window as they awaited their parents return.

As they grew, I could see their fluffy little heads popping out to check out the world around them. I have found watching the parents’ dedication to their baby’s growth utterly mesmerising. They were flying back and forth all day long. I feel quite sad now that they have gone. I can only pray that their fledglings made it.

Back to yesterday’s garden party. Aside and on top of the reprieve from the wet stuff, it went well. Apparently, it was my Victoria sponge that came out in top cake spot. This earned an 11/10 from one friend who was a chef in a previous life. High praise indeed! And it gave me great pleasure to see strangers connecting and conversing. Equally I loved hearing the sound of laughter regularly filling the air. In my books, these indicated success meaning it is time to plan another.

While laughter is my second favourite sound, birdsong remains in pole position. I may be missing watching the blue tits, but the other birds remain present and tuneful. Nothing dampens their songs. I’m particularly grateful for the black bird who keeps coming back. He literally sings from the rooftop of my house or sometimes from the tree’s. I spot him at various times of the day or rather I usually hear his loud, clear song before I see him! At times, he has even been known to serenade my clients into my cabin from his perch on the tree above. Not a bad USP to have!

And, I still regularly see my robin couple who love trawling for treats under my tree. At times, the odd magpie pops by, several pigeons, starlings and all sort of other birds whose names I don’t know. Google helped me to identify a goldfinch once which I was very excited about! And the odd squirrel scurries along the fence or in the trees.

Witnessing these wonders of wildlife all around me, is the stuff that stills my mind, fills my heart and calms my body. A holy hattrick of happy hormone releasing goodness! I thank the God who cares for us humans even more than these birds, for it all.

I call bullshit

Yesterday while scrolling on Facebook I read something that activated my bullshit detector. It was something about what’s important in life. Most of which I agreed with. However, one line jumped out at me. It turned me right off and I stopped reading immediately. It read something like,

  • ‘most people don’t have jobs they love, they have jobs they sometimes like, that pay the bills’.

At first glance most would probably agree. I call bullshit. Quite often untruths parade about the place with a kernel of truth that gets accepted as the whole truth. Nothing in this life is all true or all untrue but a mix of both. What we refer to as truth is rarely the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. You’ve only got to look at our justice system to see theatrics in action around the concept of the whole truth. (and of course some good cases of justice, somewhere I hope). What things look like often gets accepted as truth if it’s presented in a convincing enough manner. Or like the quote above, if enough people accept it.

Anyway, back to this idea about work. Let me be quite clear – I love my work whether writing or counselling, with all my heart, mind and body (we really can’t separate these).

On the counselling front, it is a massive privilege to hold space for people with the courage and commitment to grow despite the growing pains involved. To watch people benefit from the fruits of their labours makes my heart skip for joy. I have on occasion even been known to jump up and do a jig in response to a client’s growth. I did ask their permission first as I didn’t want to totally weird them out! But I do get very excited about this work which can at times even incorporate play.

It would be remiss of me not to add that the work is also tiring which translates into lots of breaks and time out in nature.  As for admin and accounts, what a yawn. When it comes to tech, don’t get me started. And, counselling others can be extremely difficult when I am going through a difficult phase myself. Hence my ongoing commitment to my own counselling when required. (which is quite a lot!). But, all things considered, I love this work.

As for the writing, this has always been my play but can also be work. I’ve been working on my first book for forty-eight years so far! This definitely feels like work. When I don’t write enough to balance my counselling work, I become a much grumpier version of myself. And so I try to permit myself the play of writing as much as time and energy allows. For everyone’s benefit.

Therefore, this notion that we cannot do work that we love does not fit my lived experience. I need to point out that this job that I love so much didn’t fall out of the sky into my lap. I spent a decade training, volunteering, sacrificing holidays and cars and moving house or rather room/bedsit, eight times. During which I worked in a secondary school and I cleaned people’s houses. Financially I pretty much lived off fresh air and prayer. I can subsequently testify that God did provide while I was developing the desires He put on my heart.

Suffice to say this was not an easy decade in any way, yet I’d do the same again. That’s before I factor in the family stuff – surviving this remains my biggest achievement to date.

Anything worth having in life requires work to make it a reality. No one gets to avoid that. Except maybe the super privileged. However, the school of hard knocks teaches lessons in character and attitude that entitlement can’t.

So after reading what I read yesterday, I felt very sad that the majority seem to accept this nonsense about work being merely a means to an end. There are times when this is true (see above) but as a lifelong philosophy? It makes me conclude, rightly or wrongly that if people accept this as truth, this is what they will settle for. I’m not imagining that everyone has huge passions in life. But all have a unique set of strengths and weaknesses as well as benefits and challenges. I believe that life and work is about bringing our all to the table to do the best we can with what we’ve got. I’ve come to believe that when my heart is no longer in something whether a relationship/job/church/whatever, it’s time to get the rest of me out.

And wherever I go in life, those individuals that put their heart into their work stand out in the very best way. Certainly they are in contrast to those whom everything is too much for them to do. And I do say this as someone who was once told by a colleague my epitaph would read, ‘Jo cba’d Loach’. This was fair and true while stuck in corporate captivity. We all have jobs that bring out the worst in us (I felt like a caged animal) and those that bring out the best, as well as all in between. It is our responsibility to choose which we will aspire to, settle for, or take steps towards.

It’s important to acknowledge it’s not always easy to seek the path of fulfilment. And we all have bills to pay. But, I honestly believe that if we seek for what our hearts desire where this brings enjoyment to us and others, there is always a way.

We don’t have to settle for the lie that work cannot be enjoyable, fulfilling or enough to pay the bills. This is of course easier for those like me who are happy to live out of charity shops and Lidl’s!! The chains and trappings of success are not for me; not at the cost of my time, energy or lifestyle.

Work can be a source of enjoyment and fulfilment as well as a few unavoidable stress evoking bits, for us all.

Massage or non-sexual masochism?

Today I tried a Thai massage. Or should that read Thai torture session?! I thought I would like it given my positive experiences many moons ago while travelling in Thailand. What I noticed was some striking cultural differences between delivery of this as opposed to a massage from an English person. For example, the English enquire as to what kind of pressure we want and ask us to say if the pressure needs adjusting (knowing we’re often far too polite to do so leading to regular check ins). Upon completion we may also be asked how it was for us.

On this Thai front, things were done differently by the one delivering it. The pressure was such that at times a few involuntary groans/whimpers burst out of my mouth. This despite an ability to bite down the words or sounds that could make matters worse, being learned at a young age. But even this entrenched grinding/clenching manoeuvre was overridden by the extraordinary level of pain experienced!

Now, I’m the first to admit I am very wimp-esque when it comes to physical pain. My feet have bled in response to a Thai pedicure before – I see a theme, is this a Thai thing? But this did evoke next level pain which took me way back to similar endurance type massages in Singapore and China. I wondered back then if I was being tested to see at what point I would break (or part of my body would) by asking them to stop. No need to wonder this time as the response to my spontaneous groans and gasps (not of enjoyment) was, ‘breathe’. It was bad but I wasn’t about to stop breathing having survived way worse! It wasn’t a response of recognition followed by any appropriate adjustment of pressure though.

I could of course have spoken up and insisted in a gentler handling of my sensitive self. But as there were also moments which were nearing enjoyable, I persevered. One always feels like an endurance of such discomfort must be doing some good. I’m not sure if the ‘no pain, no gain’ motto is simply a masochistic lie we’ve been sold or how much truth is in it, if not. I guess like all things we are each different and responsible for what does or does not work for us.

Throughout I was aware that any fleeting relief upon moving away from one part of my body was quickly replaced by pain from another. Yet I also felt an unusual but good feeling in the parts of my body that had been battered/massaged. I was torn between thinking it was making me feel good and at times being more painful than I wanted to endure. Especially when paying for the privilege.

Towards what I hoped was the end, I noticed myself start some plea-bargaining style prayers to God. You know the type, ‘Please God, if you make it stop, I’ll be a nicer Christian’ type stuff. But I quickly realised I wasn’t even fooling myself let alone Him! And besides He has given us free will to own our choices and I chose to have the massage and I kept choosing to let it continue. I was thrilled/relieved/grateful when it finished though. On my way back through reception, I grabbed a sweet.

“I think I deserve that for surviving the experience”, I commented to the person sat there. They were too English/reserved/disinterested to reply.

And as I wasn’t asked how my experience was, I couldn’t release the words desperate to escape my mouth,

“I am grateful I got out alive”.

All this makes me think of my clients. Quite often the process of therapy feels painful and unpleasant yet yields an improved experience thereafter! Perhaps whether physical or psychological we all have different tolerance levels. Important to check in with the individual in question and hope that they will be honest with themselves and the one asking. This whether the asker or askee.

Anyway, I didn’t mean to but I took myself for coffee and cake to recover from the experience. And I thought this probably defeated the object of self-care but then remembered my moderation rule. It was only one cake after all. (so far today).

My partners response to my experience was,

“ … deep tissue massage is no joke, JoJo”.

Well, there was no laughing involved and there was almost some crying. All of which means I won’t be subjecting myself to round two.  Some massages are relaxing and soothing but leave me feeling like I’m still tense inside. Others leave me feeling way better once they’re over than while they’re happening. And some hit the spot which releases tension without annihilating me in the process. Hurry up and come back regular massage lady, is what I have concluded.

Hopefully I won’t awake covered in black and blue bruises tomorrow! And no, I am not being dramatic!

Rainy days invite indoor play

As a self-confessed fair-weather walker, I’ve cancelled today’s walk, in favour of all things indoors. As my regular massage lady is currently out of massaging-action, I’ll be sampling a local Thai massage. I’ll report back but I’m hoping for an enjoyable experience.  

This relentless rain has redirected my focus to inside matters; inside me or inside elsewhere. There are so many things I don’t want to be doing when the sun is shining so I’m keen to utilise the day. Part of this involves an article I read recently about the latest research on aiming to eat 30 different plant-based foods per week. There has been so much recent research surrounding gut bacteria and the impact on the mind/body. As a perimenopausal women, my moods have often been at the mercy of my fluctuating hormones. (Thank God for HRT to settle this). This can be further aggravated by drops in blood sugars or the inhalation of high sugar, highly processed, low nutritional content foods. The old adage,’ we are what we eat’ is true. Not just that if we overeat rubbish and under move, we will become larger in body. But also, the quality or lack thereof of food going into our guts, can also have a detrimental effect on mood. I’ve always been prone to becoming ‘hangry’ if I go too long without eating. My moods can also suffer if I don’t put enough quality grub in my body. As the owner of a very sensitive system, I must be very careful about what I put in it to maintain optimum health.

Fortunately, as a lover of food/baking/new recipe creating, I am naturally fascinated by food. Not only am I interested in the impact on physical health but also on mental and emotional health. I’m naturally drawn to the Mediterranean diet in that I love fresh fruit and veg, poultry, fish, nuts and seeds. The article I read recently flagged up thirty food groups required to cultivate a healthy gut. Not just in size but the makeup of bacteria. I can’t pretend to understand the science of this as I don’t appear to have a science chip in my brain. At GCSE I only took biology which I got an F for! (the other 9 were C and above in case you’re wondering!). However, what I do understand about gut bacteria/grub partnership is similar to what I understand about cars ie primarily what colour they are. With grub, it is apparently good to aim for as many different colours in your diet as possible.  Whereas I’ve learned too late that white is not a forgiving colour for a car.

At first glance this goal of thirty foods may seem intimidating. However, I was encouraged to discover that even coffee, that great firer up of my system of a morning, counts as one of these. Result. Ditto green or black tea which I’ve broken through my resistance to upon hearing the lack of caffeine equates to fewer trips to the loo. Win, win right? As for the rest of these thirty foods, it’s basically fresh is best. And variety really is the spice of life as herbs and spices count too.

As with everything else in life there is no point in finding this interesting if I don’t put it into practice. I have discovered that I can achieve this with a bit of creativity and a lot of planning, organising, and preparing. I know myself well enough to know I’m unlikely to cook anything healthy after work. Instead, I’d grab rubbish, therefore I am a committed batch baker of soups, salads, curries, or chillies. And cake, because I still believe in all things in moderation. (I don’t always practice the moderation part in this respect)

This aiming to achieve thirty foods malarkey can be do-able. Here is an example of my start to today:

  • 2 small cups of freshly ground filter coffee – after a glass of water to wash down the vits and mins – apparently we need daily vit d supplements even on those days when the sun does shine            1
  • Bowl of frozen mixed berries (defrosted!), full fat Greek yoghurt, sprinkling of flaxseed, sunflower and pumpkin seeds and oats                          4

That’s 5 before adding a mid-morning snack of almonds to make it six!

Playing around with how to get these different foods into the weekly scoff fests can be fun. And a constructive use of wet days like today. I can focus on finding, planning, and prepping interesting new recipes as a way of looking after my body/mind and the connection between them.

We really are what we eat.

And if we eat bland, boring, colourless, highly processed rubbish, our body’s and minds will pay the price in size, energy and, or moods.

What makes you feel alive?

Last Saturday I cycled to the local shop which I entered still wearing my cycling helmet (not just this).

“Aah you’re doing things that make you alive”, remarked the assistant.

“What do you mean?”, I asked.

“When you do what you are passionate about, like cycling, it makes you alive”, he replied.

Quite right, I thought as I left and jumped back on my bike. Cycling through picturesque places with the breeze whistling past me, the sun sometimes shining on me and the scenery wowing me, makes me feel alive, happy and free. For me, there are so many activities that I find enlivening and enjoyable. My personal challenge remains in limiting such activities to a level that enriches rather than exhausts my body. There is always a line and I regularly cross it!

In this life we can easily become so consumed by work that we forget to balance this by prioritising play too. That which makes us feel happy and alive helps to carry us through the menial and the mundane.

On Friday night when my partner and I discussed the week he suddenly announced that his learning take-away was,

“I need to spend more time doing things that make me happy”.

This was music to my ears as the observer more able to see him overdoing things than to see this in myself.

Adulting can cause us to lose sight of the role of play and rest in sustaining a sense of aliveness. We must actively address this imbalance or pay the price. For overdoing anything or under doing rest and play can have a draining, deadening, stress enhancing effect. And life is definitely too precious to settle for some half-arsed stress filled substitute.

I was reminded of this again today when I attended a funeral of a wonderful woman. Her life and faith touched many hearts including my own. And as I reflected on her life through the beautiful songs, psalms and stories of the service, I laughed and I cried. The death of a fellow lover of Jesus brings a powerful collision of emotion, both sadness and joy. To lose one we love brings sorrow but to know where they are going is a cause for celebration (and cake obvs). Even more poignant when it brings an end to any form of prolonged pain on earth.

Life is a full bag mixed with joy and sorrow, happy and sad, exciting and boring, from the moment we are born until the moment we die. While culture sometimes encourages us to stuff down our sorrow or focus so hard on work that we forget the joy of play, these emotions are a package deal. By allowing ourselves to honour them all; sadness, joy and all in between, we retain our aliveness. To block out one is to lose both along with our vitality. Life is too precious to settle for a death-in-life experience.

Whether we are grieving, celebrating, laughing, crying, working or playing, our corresponding emotions show us we are still ALIVE.

Respite

Last week I enjoyed a hattrick of spontaneous, plan free days. My break from work enabled some respite from running around like a knackered-arsed-fly. It was delicious. Not dragging myself through the never-ending to-do list of adulting but just being.

I was most grateful that the sun shone all week which assisted me with my quest for swopping doing for being. Somehow, I find it easier to stop and be when I can do so from the comfort of my outdoor lounge. It was the first time I was able to dust down the garden furniture ready to use. I probably should have cleaned it properly, but I figured that 1) I was practising staying unchained from the to-do-list and 2) the inevitable rain would hopefully do it for me. Given that I am way too old/menopausal to sit in the sun or want to chase the orange, leathery look, I also wrestled with the parasol. And even won (eventually).

I used the week to practise listening to my body and letting it do what it needed. Generally, after being still for a while, a spontaneous urge to move, then arose. Whether to walk, cycle or run, it was a joy to do this naturally rather than cramming it in, in between everything else.

Respite is essential and doesn’t have to be costly. But it certainly will be if we don’t make it a priority. This is equally true within our working days where breaks away from the desk/workplace are vital. We all need daily respite breaks from whatever responsibilities we have, as well as longer breaks throughout the year.

The only downside to my week of respite was realising I could have done with two! To that end, I have now planned in the next two breaks. If I don’t plan them, they don’t happen.

When I returned to work yesterday, I found myself flat out playing the catch-up game. I don’t find this anywhere near as much fun as the time out/respite game. But worth it, nonetheless. By 8pm last night, I realised I had fallen into that annoying trap awaiting us busy people. The one where the never ending to-do-list can squash self-care/exercise out. I definitely hadn’t managed to get outside or move enough. As the day wasn’t over, I fought the pull of the sofa and went for a walk across the fields instead. The sun kindly rewarded me with a show on its way down. Not as good as the Northern Lights but no matter how hard I tried to stay up for them, the need for sleep was stronger. Gutted.  

When our jobs are sedentary, we need to move by standing up and stepping away from the workstation. And if we manage no other form of self-care or exercise within a busy day, at least try a walk. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a lark or an owl, walking is great for the mind and body at any time of the day. Even better where there is scenery to feast the eyes upon. And it’s also my very favourite thing; FREE! As well as giving time out/away/respite from everything else. By getting into our body’s for something as simple as a walk, we can give ourselves a brain break.

My plan to limit my plans

At the start of my week off, I was asked by a fellow church member what my plan for my break was.

‘To have as few plans as possible’, I replied.

‘I think that’s really under-rated’, came his response.

As humans, we have a propensity towards filling space. The emptiness or void like qualities of space can see us avoiding them by mindlessly filling them. In the physical realm this ranges from filling storage cupboards to sheds, lofts, wardrobes and anywhere else. In the psychological realm, we may equally mindlessly fill time and air space. This is usually to avoid being still and silent in case we notice or feel something we don’t want to.

During this year of learning to rest better, I am practising being stiller and more silent. I do this by not asking my mind or body to do anything much. It goes entirely against the grain of my history but I am determined to do things differently.

To this end, this morning, I forced myself to sleep in until 8.30am. Not extravagantly late I realise but when I’m in a creative phase, my mind starts buzzing the moment I wake up. I am learning to quieten it back down to give my body the rest it needs. Following this lay in, I took my coffee out to the garden. Here I could take in the sun and birdsong along with my Monty cat.

How I love the great outdoors; it was my safe space as a child where our garden conveniently led to a large green field. Here and now, nature remains my place of wonder and comfort. As I sat drinking in the surrounds as well as the coffee, a peacock butterfly fluttered by, landing right by my feet. It stayed a moment allowing me to admire its colourings and patterns before it flew away.

I moved to my now parasol covered table and chairs to continue watching the wildlife. It wasn’t long before I spotted the robin who has recently taking up residence here. He dives down from his position on the fence to whatever edible treats await it under my tree. Most days he pops by for a visit. If it is a him.

The other day a beautiful delicate blue tit landed on the fence nearest my conservatory where it caught my attention as it peered in the window. These are the moments I relish most when I remember the importance of sitting in the space of rest. I notice the beauty and wonder of my surroundings as well as all that wishes to present itself from within; beautiful or otherwise.

While the world will always be full of strife and suffering, there will equally always be moments of magic awaiting us when we become still enough to notice them.

This rest malarkey is way under-rated and under-practised, at least by me! But my commitment to re-dressing the balance is becoming stronger all the time.

Yay for holidays.

This rest malarkey

Rest is actively engaging in being inactive.

R is for resisting the mind and body’s desire to be active.
E is for energy saving and restoring by actively choosing
inactivity in mind and body to allow essential internal repair
work to be conducted
S is for space to practice being still in mind and body;
noticing the desire for activity and letting it go
T is for time to master the art of ‘being’ over ‘doing’ to
restore balance, unity and harmony within

Typically, we tend to be prone to either overdoing or underdoing. Those of us prone to
overdoing can feel as if we are being lazy when we are simply allowing ourselves to
overdo, less. Those prone to underdoing appear to have mastered the art of this
without any such concerns.

While those of us in middle age and beyond tend to fall in to the first category with the
younger generations tending to fall into the other category, this is not definitively so
either way! There are I believe, as many under-do-ers in the older generations as there
are over-do-ers in the younger ones. Wherever we find ourselves, cultural changes
between generations tend to come about by swinging from one extreme to the other
before settling into some healthier midway point.

Only we can really know what we need to do, or not do, to re-dress our own imbalance.

That’s all for now because rest is calling me, you and us …