Yes, No, Maybe

Today, a journal entry indeed. A moment, like no other. the forces of pressure have finally landed. Overwhelm. It’s 6.52 in the morning. I got up found some grounded coffee, poured in the hot water, lit the gas and got the Moka Pot (Bialetti) going. Boiled the kettle, made a herbal tea too. I always have both. One after the other. Walked up to the cottage and sat down stared out the window, six degrees, blue sky, sun across the street, shade on the grass, it is going to be a perfect spring morning. Yet I sat there, coffee in hand and just felt heavy.

There is this beautiful photo I found of my kids, it was a long time ago, it was after my Grandpa’s funeral and we were all wandering on the beach at Vincentia, NSW. This beautiful place where the water laps, where you can wander on chalky sand until you get to the rocky edge at Plantation Point and then keep wandering to the next beach. This is a stone throw from where my grandparents lived. And it is a place I love to go back to.

When I was a child, my brother and I bored of the small talk that adults make, we would run across the street and down the path to the beach, free to wander and explore. I love to take the girls there now. And it is funny while in lock down (another month!) I have been just wanting a day at the sea, one day that is all.

A sea cure, is that what I need? I always felt when the kids were little that was the easy part, when one or two started to enter there higher years in high school (one is there now and one is out) that is when I started to feel pressure. The pressure to get it right, the pressure to expect, to ask, to show. And now this Covid business has really rattled my bones. They are all artistically inclined, and what has been more rocked than anything else with this pandemic, the artists. But we need artists, we need to be transported and we need to be who we are, but I cannot stop the forces coming in front the outside. The expectations of people, grandparents, the one’s who question, and who watch waiting to judge on your merits as a parent.

And that is why this morning I sit a little heavy. It was easy then. I always knew it deep down even if people complained of the physical punishment of child rearing, I never cared, I just went with it. I cherished it, they were with me, I was with them. And yes, they are still with me, 21, 16, 12, but how to move forward, how to dream? Is it my worry or there’s? Is it societies, the noise filtering in?

And so I contemplate this for now, grateful to be here no less, staring out to the garden and the hellebores and the golden yellow pansies, the buds on the trees. Just stay present, is that the key? Yes, I guess it is.

Post Script:

I have been thinking about this little post this week, wondering, and have noticed that perhaps it was time to just to go slower, really slower, to make an hour a day just reading time was my thinking. This idea arrived in the middle of the night awake trying not to think - to read Monty Don’s A French Garden Journey. It turns out to be the perfect remedy since the podcast is in France it is great to reference, but also it illuminates some thoughts on gardening, travel and art. Monty is a fan of Cezanne and Van Gogh, he visits both of their homes in the garden series he made for television and talks about them in this book. And then something else, going slower means that whatever happens happens. Of course I am not a lay about so things strangely get done and in random way my writing has become a priority. I make more time to write in the mornings, and have finally started to edit a long overdue book I have clearly not made a priority to rewrite. So now I am. Yesterday I went and listened to Sarah Wilson’s Podcast Wild, again. It is the perfect antidote when life gets blurry, when things need changing, when you get low on energy or worse your health starts to get in the way, something that has been on my agenda. Her conversation with James Hollis reminded me about everything that does indeed matter to me. This morning I started listening to her book This One Wild and Precious Life. Something has shifted in the process, read the book or re-read it, it is a worthy companion I must say.