Breathe...

... for Knots in the String

Sometimes life is just too busy.

I don’t like busy.

I like things spaced out – time to breathe, to pause.

But just lately it’s been crammed full of this, that and everything else.

This evening, I heard the wood pigeon cooing in the garden and I realised I hadn’t taken the time lately to listen and it annoyed me as they visit every day, and they are one of my most favourite birds. Something about that enigmatic burble calms one immediately. They’re a bit if gift in busy times and shouldn’t be taken so glibly as to ignore their visits.

So I realised I was letting life creep in and over me, and when it does I stop enjoying things and parts of my body start to protest. It’s a sign.

To be quiet, withdraw a little and regird.

I believe it’s the way introverts react and how they work.

Life is busy…

Silence is a resource.

I love the sound of soft silence.

Wood pigeons, waves, the terrier snoring softly, a clock subtly ticking, a gentle breeze blowing. The smallest garden birds chirruping. The sound of a creek chuckling over stones. The muted rustle of the garden trowel stirring the soil, the spasmodic clip as one cuts flowers. The breath in and out as one swims. The wake purling along the sides of a kayak.

Solitary pleasures.

I like being solitary – a walking solitary, a stitching solitary, a writing solitary, a gardening solitary, a fossicking solitary. That’s not to say I don’t love company with my nearest and dearest – I do to the depths of my soul and back.

But space is important. I’m not sure my friends understand because they’re much more gregarious than myself and by their calculation, the world spins in company.

Fair enough, but it’s not the way my world spins.

So later in the week, after the dentist’s (ye Gods!), I’m pulling my head back into my shell – like a little hermit crab.

Sometimes I understand why folk go into retreat. For me it’s to breathe quietly, to walk in nature and not really pay any attention to thoughts drifting through.

To drop back to first gear and glide to a gentle stop in nature.

Sounds good.

My time:

Ballet which is hard work currently with a sore knee and glute from our bike ride the other day. No gardening – the weather is not conducive – it’s as wet as a shag out there. Visits, childminding, stitching, driving back and forth.

Walking but not as much as normal because life is too busy. Terrier and I are not happy about that. See above about breathing…

Stitching – hearts for www.1000hearts.com.au and canvas work – trying to move the sampler onward. I only stitch at night whilst watching TV. For me, it’s meditative.

Reading:

The Shifu Cloth by Prue Batten. Quite enjoying it and surprised I wrote it. I need to read it as background for the new fantasy, The Mapmaker’s Scroll.

The Angry Womens Choir by Tasmanian writer, Meg Bignell. Set in Tassie. Funny, poignant. Enjoying it immensely. Meg’s a great success story in contemporary womens’ fiction.

Audio:

Miss Austen by Gill Hornby and read by Juliet Stevenson. A fictionalised telling of the life of Jane Austen’s sister, Cassandra. Austen-esque, beautifully characterised by Stevenson. Love it.

Substack:

In no particular order after Tom (he’s always the top of my tree) – these are the ones who pressed my buttons this week.

Watching:

The Great Big Tiny Design Challenge on Britbox. I’ve always been fascinated with miniatures and have a small library of miniature books. This series is the fitting out, room by room, of a large dolls’ house. Each room is a different timeframe – Tudor, Rococo, Art Deco, Edwardian and so forth. What the contestants contrive each episode is beyond belief. How is it that their hands don’t shake with such micro-work and under time constraints?

North Sea – an Irish/Swedish thriller. This is more my husband’s cup of tea than mine. I tend to stitch a lot. He says it’s excellent. I may withdraw to the bedroom (aka the hermit’s cave or the reading room) to listen to my audiobook while he finishes the series.

Withdrawing, you see? Retiring to the reading room. Quiet time where a clock might tick and the wood pigeons might sound from the garden. Austen-esque. The Regency period has a lot to answer for.

Sounds perfect to me…

Till next time.