It's a big yawn. A soft exhale. A carefree squawk of laughter.
This year has been utterly different from what I hoped and planned for at the start of the year. It's brought many challenges and many unexpected gifts - more often than not out of those challenges. The end of the eternal winter and the start of the spring found me very low and I reached out for help. Antidepressants and counselling. Life rafts that have helped me float on through a year where the physical constraints of my knee injury had taken away two of my greatest balancers: regular yoga classes and long, wonder full rambles. They continue to help me now as I wait for an operation on my knee. Wait and unravel. Slowly slowly. No matter how slowly I think I am going there is a level beneath that my soul craves. Not a standstill but ponderous, languid, incremental.
I write this from my room of my own. Feeling a pull back to this virtual space as I seek to kindle sparks of inspiration. The eternal building project has a last few nails to be banged and walls to be painted but I am here in my very own space. Den. Studio. Nest. Craft room. Burrow. Study. Container of joy! It makes me feel like a teenager again, fussing in my bedroom, the rearrangements of furniture, pictures, books helping find a sense of who I am. Though teenage Sarah would have had her eyes on stalks at the range of fairy lights available.
Who knows what crafts will actually occur in here. At the moment the sheer pleasure of grouping like with like and dreaming of being able to lay my hand on the exact desired supply are enough.
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