family and friends. health and wellbeing.
the ability to travel. living pain-free. goodnight kisses. waking up every morning. the honesty of a child. creating a future with someone. food on the table. sunrises and sunsets. eyesight. a roof over our heads. plants and animals. the fact that each day is a new chance to begin again. there is so much to be grateful for.
forever grateful for you two.
3 days left in the semester and 2 exam left to take! Before the final exam, I have to study for tomorrow's unit exam which is on elimination and fluid and electrolytes. Can't wait for the semester to end, I need a break! 🤪
I find myself rushing down the street: rushing to conclusions, rushing to the future in my mind, rushing from one opportunity to the next. Rushing, ultimately, to this body’s inevitable end. Life is a memento mori in motion.
I am walking homeward, fishing in the rush of my mind for some words to share what I am feeling.
My attention casts about but I come up empty. The words have not yet arrived. I’ve been rushing. I cannot force language: expression grows languidly in my daydreams.
I slow my pace at this and begin to let my gaze drift upward toward the buildings above me. Apartments and offices. The offices are busy, hectic, the apartments quietly collect dust in streams of light.
Hush instead of rush.
Stop quietly with me on this street corner. Here is true intimacy. Can we be together in this deep and gentle progression? Can we let the world pass us by?
I resume walking, but this time slowly. So slowly. When I let myself go slowly, it seems I am in greater rhythm with epiphany. I feel as if every moment is stretching into one.
Time is not a resource but a waveform which responds to my resonance. Time is as allowing as I allow it to be. It is as driving as it is compressed.
I respond to many rhythms, but this slow one is the beat of my heart, my resting pulse. When I move from this place, my own pace, there is pleasure in every step, every kiss, every taste. I allow myself to see the details: the moss between paving stones, the way the nape of your neck nuzzles against your winter jacket.
Natural time is love. And like love, the natural rhythm moves each in its own way. To me, it is eternal youth rapt by the wisdom of the elder. When I move with/in natural time, I am moving through a honeyed life. The way the light reflects into my heart and out of my eyes makes everything gilded, beautiful.
There is no worry when I do not hurry. I am able to let go what cannot or will not match my pace, knowing, implicitly, there is a greater harmony among frequencies.
I become, but slowly. So slowly, that my life might be a chosen life. Slowly, so I might be present to each step on this long walk home.
Touchstones: ‘things’ I love, in no particular order and by no means exhaustive.
A flower in bloom
A decent cup of coffee
Looking out to sea
Mark – always
An almond croissant from @pumpstbakery
It doesn’t have to make sense, it doesn’t have to be a set amount of ‘things’, it’s jotting down the things that bring you inspiration. Some of the highlights in your world. I spent a lot of time on Sunday doing stuff that drained my energy. I knew it would, but carried on. Like some maniac on a self-destruct mission. We all do it. It reinforced to me that you should – as much as you are able – shut down the stuff that brings you ZERO inspiration – or at least, list your feel good things, and if Soul Music is on there, turn it UP and whistle while you work.
Inspiration as a life strategy. I’m working on it.
#touchstones #inspiration #soulmusic #littlefrogyoga #lists #artistsway #premenstrual #hashtaghashtag #hashtaghashtaghashtag