Make Time for Yourself, she said.
After the eggs ‘eggsploded’ all over the microwave and I spilt the kids smoothie (thick with raw eggs and protein powder) all over the floor, I decided to have a do-over.
I went back to bed, got all cosy, and started again.
There have been a few balls in the air over here at The Asher’s this week, and frankly, I’m a bit a’scairt of dropping
one some all of them.
So I did what I always do when the overwhelm threatens to whelm me all over the place: I consulted the Oracle (a Doreen Virtue Daily Guidance book). I flicked and fiddled about with the pages, until my fingers decided on #197. Amongst all the claptrap and hoohar, the affirmation was this: “I make time for activities that I find fulfilling and fun. The energy I spend on myself is a wise investment in my happiness and health. I am a perfect role model of self-care for my friends and family.”
I had a shitload of stuff to get done today. All of it boring and uninspiring. So instead of racing about like a headless chick, and causing the cortisol to course through my vessels, I chose a different course. I slipped on my comfy Saucony slippers (some people know them as ‘runners’ or ‘joggers’, but mine aint seen any of that action.) and headed off for a walk.
Now usually, a walk means a WALK. I’m fast. Maybe as fast as your light jog. And I’m focussed. Maybe as much as your ten year-old kid playing Minecraft. And I’m sweating. Maybe as much as a Sumo in a sauna. Because I am WALKING for EXERCISE. And that means my teeth may be gritted, my fists might be clenched, and my eyes will be looking at some spot in the distance. Somewhere that I will be going TO. I won’t be where I am, that’s for sure. At no point will it be fun. The fun will come later when the endorphins kick in.
I set out on my walk, but as it was a walk under the heading “Make Time for Yourself”, I decided to let my slippers choose the path and the pace. I allowed my eyes to look in directions other than straight ahead.
I noticed things. Like the feeling of the sun on the back of my neck, just beneath my hairline. And the sensation of the wind playing with the tiny hairs on my arms. I heard the squeaky-crunch of the sand under my slippers. I listened to the sea call me, daring me to take off those slippers, and allow my winter-feet taste the cool salt of the sea. I noticed the little pods on the path down to the beach that were usually just an intrusive burr to the soft arches of my feet, and saw that they are really quite intricate and interesting in their construction. I saw the ripples in the sand, created by the wind I usually despised, and saw how something annoying could create something pretty.
After a time, I sat on the seat that the para-gliders use to check that pesky wind, and listened to some music. They weren’t cool songs or new songs or even my favourite songs, just songs that give me feels. Beth, The First Cut Is The Deepest, The Sweetest Thing, Loving Cup.
By and by, some people came past me: some were hurrying with their dogs, others were rushing off to work or some important place, patting their hair into place and squinting against the sun. Most of them were on a mission of some sort. On purpose. And purposeful. But my purpose was to be still. I don’t think any of them even noticed me. I usually like to think of myself as an intrepid adventurer, treading the road less travelled, but today I was like a Hobbit.
The road goes ever on and on, Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with eager feet, Until it joins some larger way, Where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say.
I liked the not knowing.
It may have taken off some years.
Will you do something just for you today? Just because? What will it be?
…From The Ashers xx