88/365


always going somewhere this one
89/365


i love all of her, even those beauty spots she already says she doesn't like. she's eight.
i've been a bit slow getting back in the 365 saddle. a week off turned into two. maybe it's the post holiday come down where i find myself back in the familiar landscape of my everyday, which has of late bordered on the prosaic side. or perhaps it's the energy of autumn that brings a certain slowness to the days. i've been thinking a lot about happiness lately and then i came upon milla's words. they struck a cord. from this i realised i haven't been noticing the small things. those moments of pure contentment where everything is ok, no matter what is going on in my life, where it all just falls away and everything is good and well and ok. i don't know if i just haven't been noticing those small, seemingly inconsquential things in the rush of everyday or if they just haven't been happening at all. so the past few days i've been taking it slow, taking it in, simplifying and noticing. noticing myself mainly, a little self reflection. how i go about my day, the first thing i think when i wake, the last thing i think before going to sleep, how i move, what i say, how i say it, body language, thoughts, dreams. taking stock of where i'm at. the first thing that struck me was how long it's been since i've reeeally stopped and just, you know, sat with myself. it almost feels like a luxury these days. second to that i started compiling a mental list of things that i used to do, that i loved doing, that i haven't been doing recently, for lack of sleep and time and energy. simple things like reading in bed before lights out or first thing in the morning, letting my body wake by itself, listening and dancing to favourite music, journaling and walking in the bush. i long for these things, simple as they are, and i'm making a concerted effort to bring them slowly into my day again. i remember reading once that being a mama to newborns and very little littles it's akin to being cast adrift in a boat. you're far from the shore, just you and your babe. you can see people standing on the shore, your partner, friends family, waving to you. but they're beyond reach, you're beyond reach. essentially it's just you and this little person drifting together until such time as the boat slowly comes to ground, as it will. while you're out there alone with this tiny being you lose part of yourself for a time, because it's all consuming. there's little time or space for the small things that make you who you are, bring joy to your day, fill you up, so you can keep on waving back at your partner and friends with a genuine smile playing on your lips and resentment for losing yourself for a time, playing out far, far away in another land. i then realised how important these small things are, their cumulative effect, their contribution to keeping everything ok. and then i'm wondering why it's taken me ages to realise this. probably because i'm so busy waving and trying to smile. mental note to self: don't dismiss the small things. oh and letting go, letting your sea legs take over, as imperfect as they may be { because there's beauty in imperfection} also helps. i'm so conscious of how hard i find putting my feelings into words. taking them from the feeling realm and translating them into something slightly comprehensible to others. it's something i aim to be better at. and gosh, if it means i have to wear my heart on my sleeve here from time to time i'm going to do it darn it, for the sake of self preservation and that never ending journey of a lovely thing called self development. really all this means is that my sea legs are wobbly, i'm going to pick up a book every other night before my eyes close involuntarily and i'm gonna get my groove on. as for the waking gently with the sun, that will have to wait a little, while my little is sorting out her sleep.