This morning, I was roused from my dozing slumber by a long, resonant rumble as a gentle thunderstorm passed by. Lulled by the rain pattering the pavement, sleep took me back into her arms once more until I was ready to wake for the day, enveloped in silence. Despite living so close to the railway line and a busy arterial road my home is surprisingly quiet at least when my housemates and their two-year old son aren't home.
Spring and Winter continue their tug-of-war. A few consecutive days of expansive warmth is now replaced by rain, wind and cold until Spring can find her feet once more. I observe how the weather affects my own moods with interest. How the warm breeze and the scent of fresh blooms pulls me out of my shell and into the world then how quickly I contract and retreat with the onset of cold, grey rain.
Today is Friday, the start of my four non-office days. These are the days I don’t earn a living but when I do my real work.
I write. I dream. I sit in stillness. I unravel. I integrate.
Some days this is a tug-of war as part of me resists what I most long to do. I breathe and bring myself back to the page and to my intention for that moment. Or I cut myself some slack and allow my wandering mind to indulge and follow its own thread knowing I will find my way back.
I am learning to be kind to myself, to allow myself to be perfectly imperfect. I have no greater judge or critic than myself. I can be my own best friend or enemy. The choice is mine.
Today I choose kindness.
I sleep until I am less weary. I move slowly as I shed the corporate cloak I have worn for three days. I cleanse and tidy my small sacred space. I savour my coffee. I read words that inspire. Then when I am ready, I begin.
Today, I dream.
For years, I created a life based on practicality, safety and security. I dreamed and lived a life that I thought would make me happy. It did, for a while. But those dreams were from my head, not my heart. I didn’t know any other way.
I became an adult, young, a co-carer for my disabled mother when I was eleven years old. Almost overnight life wasn’t carefree anymore. Yes, there were gifts from such an experience but weighed down by sickness and a turbulent relationship, I saved myself by creating my own inner island. Life was hard and it hurt. Surviving was the only dream I knew.
Then three years ago, I left the life I had created as my restless heart lead me alone out into the world. I discovered that there is a simpler way to live that doesn’t involve an office 9 to 5 and 4 weeks annual leave. I discovered wordless beauty and meaning in those moments I watched the sunset, floated on the sea or was held neutrally buoyant in the ocean’s depths.
My heart aches for what I touched and left behind. I discovered who I really am and that I yearn to live a life that is in alignment with my true nature. This longing will not rest until I dream it real.
|Books and journals, part of my sacred space|
|Good morning outside world|
|Rainy day, winter rears its head during Melbourne springtime|
|A rainy walk into Richmond|