Moving into the next few years, I’m feeling a huge need to be more still, to connect with the inner me, the one centered in my heart. Trying to quiet my mind. Trying to be aware and identify the ongoing ticker of thought tape, moving across my mind-screen, like a song I put on repeat and forgot about. I don’t hear it anymore, but it’s playing in the background.
I need my space around me to be less busy and cluttered. I need almost maniacal order or I feel agitated. It feels like I want to quickly glide across a room of soft white carpet, only to see a sea of lego blocks, knowing my crossing will be painful, and the cleanup annoying and time-robbing.
That’s the feeling.
I also need more light. Moving a cumbersome sofa and replacing it with a simple table gave me more light.
I feel better now.
I need more beauty, more flowers, more scent, more serenity. More balanced color and order. Less haphazardness.
I arranged my bedding so it’s more pleasing.
It makes me happy and restful just looking at it.
I’m wanting fresher food. I enjoy chopping and prepping fresh vegetables, building simple flavors with simple items. I’ve always liked cooking, but today I want to elevate it into a spiritual practice. Before, it was more of a chore. Now I’m slowing down and enjoying the rhythm of creating something with love and intention. I am slowing down so I can appreciate the food before me. The food that grows for me outside, and the food brought to me by the labors of many other souls. To feel the enormity of what actually is behind every ingredient I’m working with. The salt flats, the transport, the farmer and fisherman. The people in the factories. The support network for those people. All the centuries of people who learned and taught how to use herbs and spices.
Then finally the miracle of the food itself.
It humbles me completely.
Wheat and Poppies
Body and Soul