Wednesday, 20 May 2020

At peace

As soon as I come home I kick off my shoes and my clothes. I put on a flowy dress or cut-off shorts and a light top - no bra, no shoes. The nail polish on my toes is chipped and my legs are bruised, need shaving and have lumps and bumps - but I feel at home in my body.
I open the front door wide to let all the dogs in. While they're nudging my side for ear scratches and lick my hands and play around me I water the plants. I make more nectar for the hummingbirds. I feed my sourdough starter, delighting in its bubbling process of coming to life in front of my eyes.

I prepare dinner for us, finding the cutting of vegetables and seasoning of homegrown meat peaceful in a way I haven't before.
The kitchen is messy, but it's flooded with sunlight. There is a bunch of wild yellow flowers on the kitchen table that I picked on my last hike in the mountains with Lily.
A mood board I'm working on is lying next to the flowers amidst coloured pencils, scraps of paper, scissors and a stick of glue. I haven't done any drawing and cutting and glueing in over a year, and I enjoy it immensely.
The air is filled with the intoxicating scent of the lilac bushes that are dotted around our house, pulling us outside at twilight to sit together with a glass of wine, noses up in the air to breathe it all in.

I'm falling in love with our little polka-dotted mare despite myself. I hug her every day and we work with her, making her slowly trust me. 
I also love Alphonso, our big handsome Andalusian who wouldn't accept even a blanket a month ago, and who now doesn't bat an eye when I awkwardly clamber on to him. 
I'm riding again despite my intention of never riding again, and I'm so grateful for this unexpected gift. Who would have thought? 
I'm regularly talking to a therapist. It's amazing. It's the piece that was missing to make me grow up. I'm choosing to grow up, finally. I'm healing and growing.

I'm grateful for being here on our little farm, for not being able to go anywhere. Without the pressure of being somewhere else I can now freely put all my mental and physical energy into our place and our animals. We are here fully, present, in the place where we belong. 
I'm living in the moment, one breath, one mason jar of hummingbird nectar, one meal, one ride at a time. 
I am happy.


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2 comments

  1. Yes Miriam, yes! So much possibility in the present moment, if we can just keep ourselves there… LOL.
    xox

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    Replies
    1. Isn't that the truth - it's so much easier said than done. But when it happens, it's magic!

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