It happened so slowly that I can hardly say when it began. As is usually the case with these things, one thing simply followed another, and another, and another, until it hit me. Life had become too fast. Too full of worry, anxiety, new jobs, alarms, deadlines, appointments, rushing, working, guilt over projects and people I didn't get to simply because there were just not enough hours in the day. There is a German saying that everyone has the same number of hours in the day, we just prioritize them differently. I realised that the jobs, the chores, the work, it had crept in more and more until I was no longer prioritizing any time for myself, for the things that I love, the things that make my life fulfilling.
It had crept up on me, life had become too hectic. It was time to slow down.
I turned inwards to find the things that really matter to me, and how I could bring them back into my life as well as keeping on with the necessary grind required to survive in this society. How to do this without feeling that the things I love had become another list of 'things that have to be done' intruding upon the freedom and autonomy of my life?
I concluded that it's about being present in the moment, and deliberately organising life to contain windows of freedom, creativity, and self-love.
It's letting go of the anxiety that maybe everything won't get done.
It's quelling the fear of what other people think.
It's choosing to say no to some things, and choosing to say yes to others.
It's slow mornings.
It's using a teapot, and taking the time to enjoy each sip of tea.
It's lying in bed until half past 10 on your one day off because that quilt is just oh so snuggly.
It's taking the time to breathe.
It's stopping to feel your body, to feel how tired it is, and letting it rest.
It's taking the time to give yourself a nice time, instead of just what's next on the agenda of the day.
It's stopping to feel the life running through you, and the life inside others.
It's less phone, less Facebook, less worrying about getting the washing dry, and more life.
It's taking your 15 year old dog to the beach to slowly walk along, basking in the pale glow of the weak winter sun.
Taking an interest in what the sea has washed up after a storm...
...and noticing the galah foraging amongst the seaweed - odd.
It's laughing at your old dog's refusal to climb the steep sand cliff to return home, and carrying her up.
It's looking down the picturesque track, taking a deep breath of that cold fresh air blowing straight in from Antarctica, looking at your dog and feeling blessed to have shared this wonderful moment in time with her.
Happy living! :)
