A January week

Let us imagine care of the soul, then, as an application of poetics to everyday life. Care of the Soul - Thomas Moore

A regular week and an irregularly momentous one. Play and work. Work and play. Plenty of rest. Full in the flow of the remarkable and unremarkable. My basic routine has space for quiet ritual, for time in nature, for movement and stillness and space to do what my heart calls for in the most playful of ways. The simple everyday is so very good for me now, care fully curated, and I reap the rewards of that in health and energy even in this fallow time.

More particularly there have been delicious moments of note. The weekend brought time with friends, talking about the things that really matter and just being together - that amazing gift of time with people who really see you. This Tuesday I had one of my fortnightly coaching calls with Jen, we're just sprinkling magic on the mundane, recognising the sacred or as the oh-so-eloquent Mr Moore would put it applying poetics to everyday life. On Wednesdays I work from home for half the day, bringing me a little respite from the hurly burly that feels like a balm that should be prescribed for every introverted office worker! I had time in the afternoon to break ice on bird waters and sprinkle food on the hard ground, enjoying the sparkle of frost dusting the garden still. Yoga last night left me physically spent but feeling like I'd opened more than just my joints and the revelation that is being physically emptied, then restored by a good night's sleep is a feeling that will never get old for me. Today has brought playful time alone, an adventure poking around a library and a discharge from my ME/CFS talking therapy - part CBT, part mindfulness coaching - all kinds of 'finally well done the NHS' awesome. So kids, I've done it, closed the healing circle and I have sufficient confidence in my conscious recovery to say I'm staying the right side of healthy. Today, from that side of the fence, I can say without doubt it has been a privilege to walk this path, to be brought so low physically that I had no choice but to wake the fuck up to my life. I'm living in full colour now and that feels really rather good.