reflections

Emerging from a winter of the soul

Our time comes in yesterdays, todays and tomorrows.

~ John O’Donohue

Waking from a winter of the soul and seeing the beauty around me

We had rain for thirty six hours. The kind of rain you expect in winter, although we are circling into summer. We haven’t had this kind of rain — more than 100mm — in over a year and there were rivulets winding across the lawn down to the road. Spring is over. I missed it and the beauty of new growth it brings because I’ve been moving through a dark time. A winter of the soul.

Have you ever been through a winter of the soul?

It’s a time when joy in life withers, or the warmth of human relationships turn cold, you may have had a tragedy, or your hopes or dreams were dashed on the rocks of reality. There is a sadness, a sense of failure, a loss of energy, loneliness, the inability to find beauty in the world and it feels like there is nothing new to take its place.

‘Winter of the soul’ is a phrase John O’Donohue uses to describe this bleak period and I think it sums up my experience. He says that at these times you should follow nature’s instincts and withdraw, lie low, and shelter until the bleakness passes.

I’m not the type of person who lies low, I’m the one who pushes through. Aren’t we always exhorted to push through the pain, to fake it ’til we make it, to smile even though we don’t want to because it will make us feel better? This time however, it’s been difficult to spiral out of my dark winter of the soul and I’ve been hunkering down. Letting things go. Not doing or being, or seeing.

Until the rains came.

Tapitallee Creek in the rain — Replenishing rain allowing the creek to flow again

The rain cleared this morning and the princess dog and I went for an early morning walk. This used to be part of my routine, but I’ve fallen out of this habit as I have with many things. The very things that bring peace and joy and focus. No photographs, no journal writing, no making plans, no drawing, no following my path to the passionate life I desire. There are many reasons for this but when I think of them now, they feel like excuses. I won’t bore you with the details but suffice it to say, the reasons — which seemed valid — caused me to spiral into deep sadness and discontent with my lot. A dark, cold winter of the soul. But time is a circle as is the year, which cycles through the seasons.

And just as in nature, the seasons of the soul change as time passes, as we grow older, as we learn and have different experiences.

So although I missed spring while I was in a state of melancholy, the seasons continued to turn and we are now on the cusp of blossoming into the richness of summer. It’s nature’s time to flourish and grow. A time of texture and colour, light and arrival. It’s also the time for plans to flourish. John says,

Transience is the force of time that makes a ghost of every experience.

The vibrancy pf summer — I missed spring but I’m opening my heart to the vibrancy of summer – beach walks with the princess dog, blue skies, verdant landscapes.

This morning marks a turning point for me. Walking with the princess allowed me time to reflect on where I’ve been and where I want to go. The replenishing rain, nature’s gift to the parched earth, is an omen. A sign that summertime is on the threshold of my soul. My intuition tells me that it’s time to shake off the ghosts of yesterday’s experiences, focus on today and prepare for tomorrow.

Part of this preparation is to reawaken my senses to the beauty around me. John, in his book Divine beauty: the invisible embrace says that beauty is quietly woven through our days in the simplest things — kindness, tenderness, and care, for instance, bring touches of beauty. For me, there is a whisper of beauty in picking herbs for a meal, seeing tiny grapes forming on the vines, feeling the freshness in the air this morning after the cleansing rain, watching the creek in full flow over the crossing after stagnating in small pools for so many months.

Emerging from a winter of the soul and seeing beauty in small things — My senses are waking up to the beauty in small things

I’ve been moving through the past weeks without noticing the beauty in my world but I now hear it calling me. John says,

When we awaken to the call of beauty, we become aware of new ways of being in the world.

I’m reminded of my to-do list from my wild writing session, which was about the simple things that bring me joy. I want to feel joy again, to be aware of new ways of being.

I have to pick up the pace, I’ve lost time – a whole season! There are seeds to sow, even at this late stage, the cusp of summer. I must revisit my intentions, rediscover old habits, delight in the small details of my life, become aware of new ways of being, and find joy in the ordinariness of my days.

A beautiful flower, good omen to emerge from a winter of the soul — A good omen, this beautiful flower flourishing – as I emerge from a winter of the soul

I chose the word ‘FLOURISH’ at the end of October as my word through to the end of the year but I’ve been hibernating through this winter of the soul, lying dormant. So now I’m pushing through — it feels like waking up from a troubled sleep. And like the transience of time, as nature has cycled into a new season, my dark winter of the soul, too, is passing.

It’s time to flourish!

As we move into the festive season, a time of vibrancy and light, warmth, ice-cream, and beach swims here in the southern hemisphere, but also cold and snow, warm fires and hot chocolate for you in the north, I wish you summertime in your heart and flourishing hopes and plans.

‘Til next time

PS: I’d love to hear your thoughts on a winter of the soul. Has your soul been through this cold, lonely season? How did you cope? What was it like to come through to the other side? Please, drop me a line or leave a comment. I always love to hear from you and by sharing, we all learn from each other.

PPS: Just letting you know that if you purchase any books mentioned here via a link to Book Depository, I will earn a (very) small commission. ?

To taste life twice – a journal writer’s reward

We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection.

~ Anaïs Nin

journal writing — Journal writing each morning – the opportunity to enjoy a moment of stillness and to taste life twice

It rained overnight. Soaking rain. This morning the garden is showing its gratitude by unfurling leaves, stems reaching upright, flower buds suddenly tumescent with the promise of life. The early morning sunlight is sparkling through the treetops and the grass is glistening. Everything seems revitalised and perky. I walked around the garden earlier, feeling the coolness of the day brushing my face, the air calm. A state of quietude. Even the birdsong is muted. It smells fresh, cleansed of the dust stirred about by the ever-present winds of the past few days.

It’s been a scattered month. Like the dust that’s been swirling around, I feel stirred up and unsettled. I can’t believe that August has arrived already. We’ve been home from Italy for six weeks and the memories of that adventure have taken on sepia tones — the alchemy of the tastes, sounds, smells and sights which were so exhilarating, beginning to fade.Continue Reading

What’s happened and what’s next – reflecting on 2017

I love the outsets, despite the fear and uncertainty that attach to all beginnings . . . I have already begun a thousand lives this way.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke Letters to a young poet

Merry Christmas — From my family to yours, a wish for a peaceful, joyous Christmas

I’m at my desk looking out at the Cambewarra Mountain which is shrouded in cloud cover. The ground outside is wet from the intermittent rain overnight, and the birds have begun their morning song. It’s a good morning to reflect on the year 2017 – what’s happened and what’s next.

The past year has been intense — filled with colour and emotion, activity and tumult. A year of big decisions and big effort. So much has happened. It’s my biggest year since I immigrated to Australia thirty nine years ago. It’s up there with childbirth, going to university as a mature student and seeing my youngest off to study and travel overseas solo for the first time.

The first part of my year was marked by decisions and activity. I answered the declutter guru, Marie Kondo’s call to pare down and discard stuff that didn’t give me joy. For my personal story — deciding what mattered, what was important to keep in the story and what to let go of, was a struggle which required much circling around with ink on paper. But our biggest decision was to sell our house and business. Move to where we could see the sunrise over the ocean instead of the sunset. A decision to change how we work and make a plan for a new way of life that was more wholehearted. Packing up our life set a rollercoaster of emotions in train — anxiety, doubt, disillusion and finally, relief.

We have been in New South Wales for three months now. Sharing a home with my mum while we look for the dream house in its perfect location somewhere along this beautiful south coast, has been a learning curve. Returning to live with a parent — disrupting their habits, encroaching on their space and finding their kitchen equipment lacking (by my standards) — is tricky, especially when you’re used to living differently, with more space and less stuff. It requires compromise and tact, and resilience when you’re feeling vulnerable after a traumatic year. It was a fraught beginning but over time, the three of us (and the princess dog) have found a way to share the space and rub along together reasonably well, and I’m grateful.

With most of our belongings in storage, we are learning to live with fewer clothes and books. Items that we previously thought were essential we are able to live without. And even though I miss some of my beautiful things and especially my kitchen and all its accoutrements for creative cooking, I still manage to produce meals that pass my critical muster. The trauma of relocation has faded, replaced by a nostalgia for familiar places and experiences — the beautiful parks for our walks, my local library, the convenience of living in a city, seeing foreign films . . .

Beaches on the south coast of NSW — Beautiful beaches in our new environment

But there is much that is beautiful to occupy us in our new surroundings. We have a new rhythm in our daily life. Hikes in the bush and along the river with its clear water, walks on beaches with the whitest sand, paddles in a lagoon, and shopping in interesting villages, are part of our regular routine. And yes, we miss some of the conveniences of city living, but we now have vineyards and paddocks with cows grazing as our passing scenery on our neighbourhood walks. But it’s not just about leisurely pursuits.

Eggplants growing — Eggplants forming in our vegetable patch

We’ve worked hard to restore the neglected garden which has enough space to grow flowers as well as vegetables. Tomatoes are growing, eggplants forming, cucumbers ripening and there is fresh lettuce to be picked for our lunch. Dahlias are bursting forth with their showy blooms in time for Christmas and the roses have just finished their first flush of flowering.

My creativity is also flourishing. My writing, which was erratic for a long time is now an established practice every day. I’m learning to draw as you know, and although I don’t practice as often as I should, I really love this expression of my creativity. Amore is relaxed and flexing his own creative muscles — experimenting with designs and contemplating his future of work.

Promise of a bountiful harvest — The promise of a bountiful harvest

And as we near the end of 2017, we are on a hiatus — not waiting, but pausing. Life is tranquil, and although we’ve had moments of doubt and flashes of regret, we have our hearts and minds focused on what’s next.

One of the things at the top of our what’s next list is finding a place to live. Not just a house, an environmentally sustainable dream house in the perfect location. We’ve been thinking, talking, making plans and pasting ideas into our inspiration book for more than a year. We have a tall order, and so far in our explorations the ideal package is illusive.

Not so illusive is a plan to travel to Italy. It’s been more than a year since our last visit and we hope to have an extended working holiday in the beautiful country. We are in the planning stages of dates, flights, arrangements for the princess dog, and investigations into Italian internet service. We have been offered an apartment for our stay in Genoa for which we are grateful. It’s a highlight in our 2018 calendar to look forward to and work toward.

I have other work to complete. A list of to-dos regarding my website has been neglected as is my my goal for publication of my first travel article in a magazine. Procrastination and resistance have reared their ugly heads and even though there are completed articles waiting to see the light, I haven’t hit the submit button yet. What holds us back sometimes? Fear of rejection? Perfectionism? I suffer from both these afflictions and they can be difficult to overcome. But I know the solution — break the task down into manageable chunks, put one foot in front of the other, one word and then the next, and work on it consistently, EVERY DAY!

The Cambewarra Mountain looking spectacular in the sunshine

The sky has cleared and the mountain is now in full view. The sun is out and the cicadas have resumed their cacophony from the grove of trees opposite. It’s been good to reflect on 2017 —what’s happened and what’s next in 2018. I’m happy to leave the rollercoaster of emotions behind. I’m also grateful for the roof over my head, achievements small and large, and the simple joys in my life. I can see that our 2018 calendar is marked with some exciting things and I look forward to a creative year.

I hope that when you reflect on the past year that you recollect many joys and achievements in 2017 (it’s so easy to remember the bad things, sometimes we need to pause and refocus our attention on the good things that happen to us).

From my family to yours, a wish for a peaceful and joyous festive season and may 2018 bring you all the best things.

The space between: journal reflections

Now and then it’s good to pause in our pursuit of happiness and just be happy.

~ Guillaume Apollinaire

Golden Rose — Last chance to enjoy my Gold Bunny Rose, one of the first to flower in my garden

For the first time in my new temporary home I find some time to be here. It’s been a tough relocation — filled with complications, challenges, and situations that have set my teeth on edge. My first thought on opening this page was to write about the process of our relocation, but I found this post which was written about two weeks before we left our home in Adelaide. It was titled The space between what’s done and what’s yet to begin, and it reflects my thoughts at the time and brought to mind some lovely moments of just being.

I’m sharing it without editing as a journal reflection on that liminal space and as a small tribute to the final days in our old hometown. . .

Otters at the Adelaide Zoo — Saying farewell to the otters at the Adelaide Zoo.

. . .In two weeks, we will leave this place called home. We are packing up, closing down and getting reading to move on. And in this liminal space — between what’s done and what’s yet to begin, I’ve been busy with the practicalities and technicalities of integrating my work life and my passionate life story.

The busyness of finding solutions for integrating all of this into a neat new package —website, social media, a new sense of identity — has been consuming. So much so that I was forgetting to just be. The things that matter, the most important things, were taking a back seat.

What matters right now is to enjoy our final days here. In the midst of preparing to leave, there are still walks in nature, reading, and of course writing. Not the About me page or the list of services I’m offering or whether I should pin this blog post to a Pinterest board, but finding pleasure in the work of writing my story and being present right now in my life.

The Lane Vineyard — Vines ready for pruning at the Lane Vineyard, Hahndorf. Lunch in the Adelaide Hills with my best girl and amore mio

I understand that the practical aspects of how I will present myself to the world is important, but at the moment, it seems like it’s too much, too difficult to think about. So I’m taking a pause — crazy though it sounds with the movers turning up in thirteen days.

Serenity in the Himeji Japanese Garden — Tranquility in the Himeji Japanese Garden. A favourite place which always holds the space between

David Kundtz, in his book Quiet Mind stresses that stopping — whether for a moment or a month — can be the difference between simply surviving and thriving. To me, it’s like taking a deep breath, in order to remember who I am and what I want. I wrote a blog post about taking a moment to be still a while ago, but with all the activity (mind and body) happening at the moment, I lost sight of the benefits of what David calls ‘still points’. He says:

More than anything, one should have a feeling of freedom, a feeling of having no pressing needs (even though there are often pressing needs), and as complete a state of relaxation as is possible right now.

So the agenda for the next two weeks has been cleared of the technical, practical stuff that I know will be there, waiting for when the time is right and I’m stopping for a moment to regain my equilibrium. I’m going to focus on what matters right now.

West Beach, Adelaide — Beach walks in old haunts with Lily the princess dog

Some of that is to bid farewell to familiar haunts — walks in my favourite gardens and the beach, and as well as packing my precious belongings, finding time for writing and reading, as well as practicing my drawing and photography. Finding joy in being present in this space between.

The space between, — The space between what’s done and what’s yet to begin. Adelaide Botanic Garden wetlands looking serene

With the trauma of moving, I have only now come to appreciate the moments taken and enjoyed in that brief time before our departure. I hope that you too can find some stillness in your life to just be. Sometimes, doing nothing is the best thing to do.

Thanks Adelaide for some of the best moments of my life!

Continuing the journey…

It’s been an hiatus of almost a year since my last post (yes, it’s been that long since I was in bell’Italia). I was feeling sorry for myself, thinking that I couldn’t write about Italy without being there to experience it first hand − and suddenly, the light came on! My Italian journey is ongoing, albeit in Australia! Italian language lessons, culture and food still are a big part of my life.

For now, it’s about the memories of my last Italian summer…

With the backdrop of an Adelaide winter − cold and wet with mostly grey skies − I remember my summer in Italy last year. Under a hot Italian sun I swam in the ocean in Liguria, sweltered in the humidity of Verona and found tranquil moments in beautiful places with Italian friends. These are some of the memories!

The beautiful Ligurian Riviera