I used to worry.
What will the neighbours think
if I do tai chi in the garden?
This summer I tried it.
What a gift,
being present outdoors
at the end of the day.
Robins, blackbirds,
the wind in the trees,
flowers, bats, hedgehogs, owls,
the moon, clouds, rain,
the setting sun,
a scattering of stars,
mars, even saturn
have been part of my practice this summer.
Who cares what the neighbours think!
Unexpected flashes of white
Egrets flapping homewards
across clouds full of rain
Finding peace
in the space between
thoughts
I’ve been in this peaceful corner of the internet for nine months now.
I wanted a place to write, to explore ideas, to experiment, to see what this blogging thing was all about. To share, maybe, if anyone found my blog.
I started out thinking I’d write about creativity, and how to fit it into a busy life, about nature, and the importance of connecting with the natural world.
I ended up writing poetry. Poems about everyday life; the first snowdrops of spring, anxiety before a hospital appointment, the first canoe trip of the year, tai chi.
I luxuriated in language. I wrote about things that I don’t usually talk about, feeling safely anonymous among millions of bloggers.
I haven’t been trying to promote my blog, but somehow I now have some followers.
I follow some of the people who have commented or followed my blog and now every weekend my inbox contains poetry and stories. Some of my favourites so far:
The Cedar Journal – adventures of a Cedar Canoe
Elle Guyence, who writes a beautiful poem every week
So, I’m going to keep on writing, exploring, experimenting and reading and see what the next nine months bring for Life In The Fresh Air!
Here we are,
the sea pilgrims.
The wanderers,
the seekers,
the beachcombers,
the sunset-catchers.
Not many of us tonight.
A damp evening,
dark before its time.
Thunder rumbles in the distance,
water mirrors grey
and turns it into silver,
alchemy before our eyes.
An infinite supply of treasure
for a sea pilgrim.
We leave the shore,
turn inland,
the light darkens,
sky lowers,
but inside us the sea shines silver,
and fills our hearts with light.
A robin hops around the lawn
scooping up insects disturbed by
the recent passing of a lawnmower.
Not wanting to interrupt his feast
with tai chi,
I sit on a nearby bench
watching.
My practise becomes
simply sitting,
breathing,
relaxing,
focussing inwards,
as blackbirds
scold the approaching darkness.
‘Isn’t this hot weather amazing’ I say.
‘We will pay for it later’ you reply,
as if nothing good can happen
without a bill being presented.
Sunshine now
means suffering ahead.
But what about all the storms
we’ve already weathered?
Don’t they count,
like money in the bank?
I am taking this hot summer,
banking little pieces of
happiness.
Memories to unfold later,
to be viewed through the glasses of age,
rose tinted or otherwise.
I will save up some of these rays
and let them warm my future self.
I will not live my life in debt,
with good times bought on credit.
Instead I will believe
that I deserve happiness now.
Getting close to nature.
Evening tai chi practice
interrupted by a hedgehog.
11pm in the garden,
the air like velvet on my bare arms,
unexpectedly warm.
A soft breeze caresses the leaves.
Two owls squabble
under an orange moon
as I savour the silky night.
Nights like this belong to other places.
Reluctantly I return indoors.
The owls sing me to sleep.
We think we know the ‘why’ of anxiety,
Spiralling up from all those things we fear;
pressure; external and internal,
death, deadlines, illness, perfectionism,
unemployment, failure.
So many ‘whys’
–
But what about the ‘where’?
Where is it?
–
The geography of anxiety is within the body.
Our bodies become shaped for anxious feeling,
the hunch of a shoulder,
the jutting forward of a chin,
the clenching of a jaw,
the tightness of a belly,
the holding of a ribcage,
like contours on a map.
Anxiety roams this bodyscape,
energy in a landscape of tension.
–
It lives below awareness,
coming to the surface occasionally
like a fish, silently swimming, unobserved,
leaping suddenly to catch a mayfly.
–
We hold our bodies in preparation for an unwelcome guest,
trapping it’s energy within.
Not allowing the natural progression of emotion and energy
to ebb and flow and dissipate.
–
We hold ourselves tight within our armoured castles
in the mistaken belief that we are protecting ourselves,
until the anxiety spills out without a reason
in quiet moments and times that should be happy,
and we feel out of control,
scared of being scared.
–
Next time the storm arrives, let’s watch it, feel it
let it be the map.
Let it guide us to our tensions,
sherpa-like.
Focus on those sensations and they will pass.
Not easy, when caught in a whirlwind of worries,
and dread.
But worth it.
And eventually, over a lifetime maybe,
relax so the inner landscapes are so calm,
that anxiety can flow straight through
like a river of energy,
leaving us unperturbed.
Life in the Fresh Air 