THE SIMPLE LIFE

I have been dreaming of a little weatherboard home on property where my daily work is tied into the provisions of my home. Chopping fire food and lighting a fire for warmth, fermenting foods, baking bread, making preserves from the surplus of fruit from my orchard, sweeping the floor, watering the garden with a hand held hose - not those automatic irrigation systems that were necessitated from driving two hours to get to work in a job we hate only to get home in the dark. 

I’ve been off social media for a couple of months and I feel like I’ve missed out on nothing. To be honest, I don’t ever want to go back. And I’ll stretch this thread of disconnection from the un-real world to keep landing in my own sacred world, my home, my heart. 

It’s been a simple time, though at times I’m not sure what to do with myself when there’s nothing to do. 

There’s a simplicity to my life that feels unfamiliar after all the excessive doing and, without the distraction of scrolling through hundreds of reels to satisfy that spike in dopamine my brain is searching for, I feel clunky in the softening into BEing, rather than DOing.

But because of the ways in which the world has conditioned us into working machines, and the conveniences that come with working more than living, all those buttons we can push to do the things we used to do by hand (buy bread and jam, wash the clothes, turn on the heater, vacuum the floor, remove the lid from the can to make the soup), have robbed me of the feeling like there are meaningful ways to spend all this time I’ve suddenly stumbled upon.

I’ve been getting my dose of chemical hits from nature - watching a butterfly land on the weed in my front yard, responding to the king parrot who sings out for his breakfast of sunflower seeds, exercising, and reading books. I’ve watched many movies. I notice when I wander around the house aimlessly and laugh at my uncertainty of how to sit down. 

The spaciousness won’t last long, so I am doing my best to saviour the momentary pause. 

It’s also been a turbulent a time. My work is changing - the yoga studio is relocating and I have no idea if I’ll still be teaching there in a few months. I’m okay in the not knowing. My best friend is breaking up with her husband. Another has been out of work for a few months and is struggling with shame and guilt. Life continues with its twists and turns, its ups and downs. 

One of those ups was celebrating the launch of my writing mentor and dear friend Joanne Fedler’s newest book, The Whale’s Last Song. I’ll share all about it once I’ve read it. It’s her 15th book, unlike anything she’s ever written before, birthed after a break up with her writing and the death of her mother. Being amongst writers, editors and publishers feels special. A magic lives in the air, amongst the words and thoughts and ideas. A knowing of what it takes to write, to craft, to share stories. The very thing the world needs more of. It’s why I’ve written mine.

In a week, my memoir returns from an editor, and I’ll have work to do. It’s the first time anyone has read my book and receiving a message from her saying, “I started reading your memoir last night. You write beautifully”, was an all encompassing ‘heck yeah’. I’m excited for the feedback and the grace of the grit it will take to get this baby over the line. It’s so close now. 

I’ve also had the titles of two more books land in my mind. One of them I’m terrified of what it will take to write it. The other, excited. Because it will be an embodied living of a simple life. Where weeds welcome bees, fire wood crackles and the scent of fresh home made sourdough infuses the walls of my home. 

I’m here for all of it. 

Whatever you’re doing, I hope there are glimmers of peace and simplicity. And, when it gets turbulent, I hope you feel like you have the ability to sit in the discomfort of the emotions that stir. And if you don’t, I hope you have a rich and lively community of support that can be a guiding light back to the softness. 

Everything is fleeting, passing. As this phase of space is about to shift into more work for me, I will enjoy these final few days of no plans and commitments until it wells up into a swell of more doing. But boy, do I like it here, in the being.