I have at least two draft blogs sitting in my site, ones I start and then find I struggle to finish, or I get sidetracked and end up thinking how on earth can I meet the energy of whatever it is I want to bring, and then I go into ‘performance anxiety’ will it be any good, will anyone even read it…. and then I end up stalling and the moment has passed.
And here I am showing up this morning with no firm “thing” I want to write about, because there is so much… how the season is turning, how the world is burning, how blooming miraculous my garden is, my Autumn offerings, the awesome Cave of Bones in Scotland, how the mushrooms are fruiting, how intense I am finding life, how delicious the woods are, how desperately sad and angry I am about sewage being released into the waters, how tasty the blackberries are – and I could go on and on.
And that is it isn’t it… we do go on, all it takes is for us to do one tiny step after the other, often in blind faith with no clue as to where we are actually going, but we know we are just one small tiny step towards something, an idea, a movement, an offering to something – whether that is just the gift of our breath, an exhalation on the breeze followed by the inhalation of air that is given to us by the plants.
Earth – this incredible mothership we are an undeniable part of offers to us this gift of simply doing the next small step, sometimes it is a dewdrop – often a rainstorm, a cloud scudding across the sky, a sunflower turning and following the sun. Earth grows, blooms, fruits, seeds, turns, drops, rots and composts and with that I give the greatest of thanks for the resilience that she models for us time and time again, for the dedicated life giving awesomeness that is bought to us in every moment.
That no matter how disconnected, apathetic, procrastinatingly out of sorts I feel… she shows up – and all it takes is me to look up, look out or look down to bring me out of my inward looking moment that has bought me to a standstill. That I have forgotten to breath and taken myself out of movement.
So for today I will forgive myself that my newsletter isn’t written, that I am not pushing myself more, I turn instead to the tides within me listening to the ebb and flow of my movement, and I will be with the turning of the season, to late summer, revelling in the blooms that are in the garden, the incredible echinacea that has grown showing me the pure resilience she holds, the rampant growth, the full rivers and the fruiting bodies in the woods.
Go well and above all go gently wherever you are