12 Sep 2013
This week has been a slow one. Each day drips into the next with no definitive beginning or end. The babies and I have taken a long tumble into the land of fevers, watery eyes and general malaise. A change of season flu to rival all has brought my Spring cleaning frenzy to a dramatic halt but with the risk of sounding melancholy, perhaps it's just what I needed.
Our favourite books have been read and reread and lay in leaning piles all about the home and my knitting basket has never been far from reach. Lemon myrtle and tea tree oils have been burning constantly and for once I have stopped to deeply inhale their vapours. Whilst coffee is calling to ail weary eyes and limbs, ginger and lemon tea has been my beverage of choice; I listened to my heart. We haven't stepped foot out of the house for nearly a week and time has been spent lounging about in the fresh air under the trees and sleeping. Time has slowed.
Usually I operate like a wooden spinning top all speed, teetering balance and efficiency as I carve giant slices out of "to-do" lists. But this week I've toppled off my axis and have found an unsuspected nourishment in stilling myself. Lying in shavasana for quiet moments throughout the day has led me to my breath and it's ragged, hurried nature. At first I struggled to keep my body still for any period of time and my thoughts were a raggle taggle bunch. With practise I have enabled my mind to slow somewhat and breathe healing oxygen deep into my lungs. Although my body is convalescing, the grinding halt that has fallen about me has brought a certain peace. I feel more in tune with my body and have learnt a little more about slowing it.