"May what I do flow from me like a river, no forcing and no holding back, the way it is with children." — Rainer Maria Rilke
I love weekend mornings when everyone is sleeping and the house is still and quiet. I make my coffee downstairs and sit on the couch as I sip the hot, bitter liquid whilst I write in my journal.
In the pause between sips, I stop and listen to the quiet: the magpies warbling, the refrigerator humming, the kitchen clock’s ticks and tocks. Through the Edwardian window, the silver morn brightens, the white birch’s weeping fronds sway in the breeze.
Beyond the brick walls that surround me, the rattle and hum of a passing car and scraping of the plastic bumper on bitumen as it takes the speed hump too fast.
Beyond the neat rows of houses, the steady stream of traffic rolls along the freeway 1 kilometre away.
I listen to the outside for only a moment then bring my attention back inside where I dwell. To this quiet and stillness, a soothing place to rest, savor and rejuvenate.
Sometimes this world is just too busy for me — its rhythm doesn’t match my own. Five days of flowing out into the world with only 2 days to ebb. This imbalance in ebb and flow makes my quiet time so much more important to me. I must drink from it all that I can to recharge my physical and creative energy.Read More