Small Accomplishment

I had such plans for today. Chores around the house, yes, but also my own work – I was even looking forward to my morning run.

All of which was effectively scuppered by a total lack of energy, combined with a brain which refused to focus on anything. Even the easiest novel.

I think this might have been a mild migraine. I get them occasionally, and do my best to manage, but …

Sometimes you have to ride the downward waves, of course. So I did as my body asked – and fell asleep. When awake, it was simple TV or dozing. I could do nothing.

By 4pm, this had become actively depressing. A wasted day. I felt bad for not giving my pups the playtime they’d been hoping for (fortunately brief stints of frisbee in the garden were sufficient, I’m glad to say). I had to do something… but what?

Finally, the frustration was too much. Laptop was grabbed, typing began. I anticipated a stream of utter rubbish.

Instead, I blogged – on my ‘main’ page, the original blog that started it all, ‘The Catbox‘. And I’m actually rather pleased with the result.

Writing is my joy. When the words flow, there’s no sensation like it. Inspiration strikes and, if you’re really lucky, begets more – and that’s something to ride, until you physically (and mentally) have to stop.

It’s early evening now and the day is so much brighter. My head feels clearer, I have a little more energy. The pups will be walked as dusk falls when Himself returns from work, and I’ll prepare food for a relaxing evening. On our terms, my little family.

No wasted day after all – because something was created and shared.

Ride the flows, my friends.

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Appreciation

Very ill today, due to intolerances (and sneaky hidden nasties in yesterday’s food). Extreme dizziness, nausea, lack of concentration… now faded, thank goodness.

It may be surprising, but in recent years, illness or incapacitation has actually made me thankful (when I’ve stopped groaning or hiding under a blanket). It forces me to honour aspects of life that I might have taken for granted, by feeling the loss when they’re taken away.

Sometimes it seems that there are few greater joys than a really severe headache finally receding. When the world ceases to sway as I lift my head, or I’m able to focus again. With the severest migraines I’ve ever had, the moment when I can actually see at all, or sometimes even regain the power of coherent speech (a truly terrifying experience).

I know there are so many who are worse off than me – my complaints are comparatively tiny. But we all have our foibles, our needs and reactions, physical and otherwise to varying degrees. We try to get on regardless – or in spite of – because the alternative is to give up, which is no solution. Even if we pause to recuperate or take stock, we hold on to that intention to move again… eventually, once we’re able.

Tonight I was working again, gladly and with many smiles. The sunset as I drove home was beautiful, with the promise of rain imminent. I’m settling down now to rest, with my book and bed a safe haven.

I might whinge… but I’m still thankful to be moving.

Learning

Some days, I just want peace and quiet. On others, it turns out that this is not actually true at all – my brain just didn’t realize.

I’ve been working hard lately to catch up with work (after the usual busy weekend). Currently, my focus is on my students – both the year just gone and the year ahead. My Druidry course runs from/to June annually, so as this one finishes, the next begins.

Sometimes it’s hard to do homework, right? Well, it can be equally hard for the teacher to sit and focus on the marking. Especially with something as subjective and personal as Druidry.

But as soon as I begin, I find myself caught in the words of those who talk to me in their replies to my lessons. I’m told stories of childhood, hopes and fears, rants and personal doubts. While my students have a loose-knit ‘virtual’ group, the core work is very much one-to-one.

Druidry changes you, as you engage with it. I’m sure this is true of most spiritual (and vocational) paths, but I see it as it happens. It’s a privilege I’ve spoken of before, but it is also Priesting in its most basic form – teaching, guiding and supporting as needed, without being overbearing, pushy or judgmental.

Those who’ve stayed the course have been a joy to know, and I do hope that I’ll continue to be in touch with them in the future. For those just beginning, I’m intrigued all over again to see where the journey takes us. Some will find it’s not for them – that’s fine. Others will find it harder than they thought. I’ll still be here.

Some lessons take hours to read and write responses to; others much less. All tie together as a continuous story, a year of someone’s life. The teacher learns, together with the students. And while it is work (ie remuneration and effort are certainly involved!), every time I read those tales, I’m glad and grateful all over again.

Connection and relationship. Honour and joy. Inspiring.

Subtle Tactility

It can be the tiniest things that raise a smile, wandering in the world.

The rays of bright sunshine through stormclouds.
The change in the air as dusk begins to fall.
A single blackbird, singing because he can.
The rustle of brand new leaves in the breeze.

Or, closer to home:

The scent of sandalwood as I walk through my door.
The glee on a puppy’s face as he brings back a cunningly-acquired ball.
The taste of my favourite tea.
The feel of soft yarn through my fingers.
The sound of words in my mind, from my latest story.

This is the one-month anniversary of this blog, every day without fail (albeit some days harder than others). So many things which inspire me – I’ve no doubt I’ll repeat myself, but the perspective will change, as I move on through my life.

Every day, so much is out there. I will continue to share – and be grateful to you for accompanying me on the journey.

Joy in Spring

Walking the dogs this grey and damp morning, a beautiful sight stopped me in my tracks. The first bright flowers of blossom in our wee grove.

You can see the scrub that surrounds the area, before those who look after the land start work to clear it from the winter. But the hardy stalwarts come through each year – and like old friends, I’m so glad to see them.

I do love this hilltop, with the flourishing green and the lambs playing in nearby fields. May that wonder and joy never cease; and may we celebrate those we share our land with, wherever we are.

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