New snow blankets a wall
which is the summer home
of one of the garden slow worms.
And right now, somewhere deep
in hidden parts of the garden
slow worms are curled up,
hibernating.
Do they switch off like a computer
one cool day in autumn
and switch back on in spring,
unaware of the passing of time?
Or do they slumber,
conscious of the seeping cold,
burrowing further below rocks,
pulling leaves over like a duvet
before sinking deeper into winter sleep?
And do they dream?
Snowdrops punctuate the January gloom.
Each year I am lifted by
this ordinary miracle.
I wrote this a few years ago. This year the snowdrops are even more welcome than usual.
I bob along on a stream of days
which blend and blur and
disappear
into the past.
Days without shape.
My normally tight grasp
on the calendar
slips,
and I am prone to moments
of disorientation,
wondering
‘Should I be working today?’
‘Am I supposed to be in a meeting right now?’
‘What exactly did I do last weekend?’
The future is full of haze and mirage,
the horizon obscured by fog.
More than ever,
the only thing that seems real
is this one
peaceful
ever present
moment.
A parcel I ordered arrived today
full of vegetable seeds
and hope.
I am enjoying planning what I am going to grow this year and really looking forward to planting those seeds. Not yet though, it’s too cold. 🌨️
The first few
white buds
of snowdrops
emerge
from frozen ground,
as lengthening
hazel catkins bring
a touch of yellow
to the hedgerows.
The evening stretches out
just a little,
and on those days when
winter cold recedes
slightly,
the birds sing
a different song,
louder,
livelier,
a prelude to spring.
It takes a while after the shortest day before I start to notice the light returning, reflected in the first few snowdrops and the changes in birdsong.
Snow, frost and silvery light have been a feature of my local walks recently. Now we are back in lockdown I’m walking the same local routes daily, and feeling grateful to live in such a beautiful part of the world.
No need to remember a technique,
fire up an app
or take a class.
Just go into the garden
and do what needs to be done.
A bit of weeding,
tidying the greenhouse,
watering tomatoes and cucumbers,
(there is always something
that needs attention).
Simply do the work,
at its own pace.
When the time is right,
find a spot to rest,
perhaps with a cup of tea.
Thoughts come,
(summer fresh butterflies dance between flowers)
thoughts go,
(there are a lot of dewy cobwebs around)
thoughts come,
(the asters are starting to flower)
thoughts go,
(I can still hear the swallows).
‘Cloth ears’, my mum used to call me
when I got selectively deaf about an instruction,
or when I was absorbed with my nose in a book.
‘Oi, cloth ears!’. I’m talking to you.’
And it’s only recently I realized
where the phrase came from.
Mill workers, deafened by the roar of machinery ,
young ears, damaged beyond repair,
cotton cloth in exchange for hearing.
–
I am thinking of all this
as I trudge up the steep slopes of Ingleborough
on a path made of old stone slabs
taken, I’m told, from the local mills
when they closed down,
repurposed, protecting
feet from bog, and bog from feet.
–
For a moment my feet
connect with those
who trod these stones
over a century ago.
Day after day,
year after year,
toiling at the loom.
–
The wind sighs and a raven croaks,
the path twists through a soundscape,
that they could only imagine.
For a few mesmerising moments,
as the sun sets behind the beech tree,
leaf shadows dance on the wall.
Recently, I find myself paralyzed by uncertainty, weighed down by the weight of my own expectations.
These really are strange times. Even though here in the UK the lockdown is gradually lifting, there is so much uncertainty about what will happen next. With the virus, with the global economy, with life as we know it.
I am actually finding this stage harder to deal with than the full lockdown! So many ‘what ifs’. So many parts of life that might not get back to normal for a long, long time.
The strangeness of having family or friends to visit, so wonderful to see them, but they have to sit in the garden (in the rain on one occasion!) and I have to think twice about offering them a cup of tea.
The sense of almost-back-to-normal when I meet with friends for walks, and the difficulty of remembering to walk 2 metres apart when we have 3 months worth of catching up to do!
Skyping family and friends on the other side of the world and wondering when I’ll actually be able to see them again – could it be months? Years?
Hearing that I won’t be able to go back to the office 6-12 months. I really like working from home, and I normally work from home 3 days a week anyway, but I’m starting to feel a bit isolated without my weekly trips to the office to chat (I mean work).
Uncertainty and worry over work, the pandemic, the economy, the future…it is paralysing! It stops me from doing what I need to do and what I want to do.
It stops me from writing.
It stops me from painting.
It makes me agonise over decisions – or not make decisions at all.
It makes me want to lie on the sofa and scroll through the news AGAIN, as if the answer is there somewhere if only I scroll further.
The uncertainty is not going to go away anytime soon.
I’m the one who is going to have to change, to learn to live with it.
Adjust my expectations about what I can achieve during this time. Find a way to move forward, to make choices, even when I don’t know what is ahead. Enjoy what I can do instead of focusing on the things I can’t do. Simply enjoy the summer.
What about you? How are you coping?
Inspiration
seeps through
the cracks
like rain
on drought parched
soil.
Today, I sat down to do some work and I ended up taking a tour of some of my favourite blogs. I visited a Dutch garden filled with flowers and kindness, and followed the first post-lockdown journey of a canoe down Dutch canals. I read about walks in Lancashire, not far from where I live, photos of wide-open spaces, flowers and birds. I read about a coyote, emaciated and struggling in the desert in the USA, and the writer’s response to that struggle. I was taken step by step through the artistic process of collagraph printing meadow flowers and grasses (by an artist in Yorkshire whose courses I’d like to take when face to face courses eventually re-open).
I have been so busy recently that I have not had much time to visit these blogs, or to do lots of other unproductive (but enjoyable and inspiring) things. Actually, I don’t like the term ‘unproductive’. So many so-called unproductive things are actually the starting point for creative work.
I like the idea of ‘filling the well’ which comes from Julia Cameron’s excellent book ‘The Artist’s Way’.
In order to create, we draw from our inner well. This inner well, an artistic reservoir, is ideally like a well-stocked trout pond. We have to maintain this artistic ecosystem. If we don’t…our well is apt to become depleted, stagnant or blocked. We must become alert enough to consciously replenish our creative resources as we draw on them – to restock the trout pond, so to speak. I call this process filling the well. Filling the well involves the active pursuit of images to refresh our artistic reservoirs. In filling the well, think magic. Think delight. Think fun. Do not think duty. Do not do what you should do. Do what intrigues you, explore what interests you: think mystery, not mastery.
Julia Cameron
For me reading, walking, canoeing, being in nature, being with friends, gardening, cooking, listening to music, visiting a museum or art gallery, travel, walking on a beach, these are all ways to fill the well and get my creative juices flowing again.
How do you fill the well?
And now to do some actual work and tick something off my to-do list 😉
Career, work life balance and creativity coaching – my coaching website is now live!
The focus of the next few months for me is all about growing my coaching business, now that I have a little bit more time to take on more clients. I’m not sure if it’s the best time to be doing this, in the midst of a pandemic, but I’ll find out!
A favour
I would like to start to spread the word about my coaching services beyond my immediate networks.
If you know anyone who might be looking for a career change, wanting to improve their work life balance, to have more time for creative projects or generally looking for a new direction in life, then please could you share the link to the coaching website (www.sarahwisemancoaching.com) with them.
And of course, if you are interested in coaching, I’d love to hear from you.
Thanks very much!
Life in the Fresh Air 