This topic is one with which I have a real feeling of ebb and flow.
Recently, I asked my mum to come and visit with us for around two weeks. Normally when she comes to stay, it is for around four days and I always feel like it is not enough time. I do not fully relax when she is here. I want to ensure she feels cared for, my way of doing this is to cook great meals which invariably take a considerable amount of time to prepare. I am happy to do this, but by the time I do this and spend family time together, I do not feel like I really get to enjoy the experience of her being here or the extra time it affords me.
A while back I ran into a friend who owns some restaurants in London. All of the continual change in managing her businesses had left her feeling frazzled and burnt out. A long weekend was planned for her and her partner, which they were both excited about. My friend said that she had been so absorbed in her work life and endless to-do list that they had not had an opportunity to ‘just connect to each other’. I nodded and told her I felt the same way, I too wanted some time to connect. We said farewell shortly after but I realised in our exchange that I meant I needed time to connect, to me.
Over time, details of my wildly varied, adventurous and often entertaining life shall emerge. For now, trust me when I say, I have been very full on for the past five years. Full on, in ways I did not know were possible. During this time I did not focus on what I as an individual entity needed. I did not slow down to connect to myself or spend time in quiet reflection. I needed some space down to the pit of my being. I am an expressive soul, as those who love me would attest, but I do mean I was weary to the depths of me.
I reached out to my ever-loving mother and asked if she would please come to stay for a while so I could get some space in my life, for me.
In the time that she was here I did connect with myself. I did the sort of things you would expect: sea salt bath, face mask, tidied the garden, read a very long book, drank gallons of herbal tea, ate great food and went for walks in the morning.
This was all wonderful and I did enjoy it. I was glad of the time I had to reflect and for all the help with household tasks and such.
After some time getting headspace, I found myself in the park and I planned to go away to do some work. My little one was not interested in me embarking on alone time and asked me to stay in the park. Earlier that morning whilst walking, I noticed that there were a few bits of the park I had not really looked at fully before. I was slowing down in my head and body and saw that the leaves were changing a little and the shape of the ground was not just flat. Then I spotted what was almost like a secret little cove in plain sight of the main walkway going through the park. I looked like a little snug somehow and I thought it would be great to be there for a while one day… So when I found myself held captive by my small person (who we refer to as Napoleon at times, due to strength of character) I knew just where I wanted to be.
The three of us; mum, Napoleon and I, wandered over to the little cove armed with coffees, nibbles and blankets. After a time, the swings beckoned (to mum or Napoleon one cannot be sure) and I found myself alone, with nothing planned. I did have a book in my bag, so I pulled it out and tried to get comfortable. Shortly afterward, I rolled on to my back and became aware of how bumpy the ground felt, and how pleased I was that I had on a chunky jumper so it made things a bit more comfy. Whilst I was contemplating how warm it really was and how far we were into summer I looked up at the sky to check out the weather, and that’s when it happened.
I looked up at the sky to get an idea of the weather and it looked so far away and vast. The clouds were in an unusual pattern that reminded me of how the sand makes ridges on the beaches back home and the waves settle into those ridges. The sky was so blue, it was as if I could fall into it. I could see so much of the sky, it felt like my eyes were gulping it in as if to take all of it inside me. The sky contained so much freedom, so much space and light. I had not looked at the sky whilst lying down for I could not tell you how long. The tree near to where I lay curved up and over me a little so that the green and yellowing leaves were in my peripheral vision and it made for an interesting perspective comparing the two. I felt assaulted by the stunning old tree towering above me with the sparkling greens next to the azure depths and cotton fuzz peppering the sky. It felt like everything had just stopped. Some part of me returned and I felt still as I just watched the sky. I was doing nothing else but watching the sky, it felt wonderful.
By slowing down and taking time to pay attention, I was able to witness all of the wonder surrounding me. As I looked up I felt joy and was thankful to have a quiet space in which to settle. I could rest my body and bring my awareness to the sensation of the ground supporting me. I felt truly thankful to have a space like that just moments away from my doorstep. At the centre of all of this, I had people who love me playing nearby, returning to me with warmth, laughter and light in their eyes.
I slowed down in those days and I found joy in the simplest tasks. Since that moment, I have been more connected to myself. I have found more and more things that I am truly grateful for. I live in London, I have commitments, responsibility and all the stuff adult humans need to do to make life work. Yet still I am finding that I am living with a willingness to find more things that make me laugh or to be enjoyed.
I am thankful to have had the time to connect to myself and to deeply appreciate the experiences which spontaneously arrived. Considering what you need and making that a priority is wonderful, the gratitude that fills you when you meet your needs creates more.
The interesting part for me is that as I have been cultivating an ‘attitude of gratitude’ I have found that more things keep arriving for me to express thanks for.
