Every living cell.
I’m at my caravan, it’s early, the early sunshine is flooding over the field, and the grass is alive with reflected light. I’ve coem here to heal, after a busy couple of weeks, I needed to take time for myself. I realise increasingly the importance of self care.
I’m also aware, while I’m in this blessed spot, that I must not use not my need to heal as an excuse to wrap myself away from the world, nurse my bitterness, and lick my wounds.
The Guardian this week had a story about how self care can be used to silence real issues. I agree that a scented bath isn’t always the answer. Fake self care can make things worse. Being advised to look after yourself can be a way of silencing - it can be used to silence others, it can be used, without compassion, on the self. A frenzy of self care doesn’t heal the soul. Not in and of itself. The outward rituals of self care, such as a bubble bath, need to be received by the self with an open heart, in order to be healing. This means coming from a position that is alive to the world, and alive to the moment. This can’t be forced.
Self care that is charged by self pity or anger, for example, and deadended there, is not life giving or enhancing. It’s too easy, when dealing with difficult emotions, for them to be the cul de sac of thought. The point is to go through and beyond these, to a place where rather than wrapping up defensively, one can be open to receive.
Moment by moment living. I’m getting back to it. I breathe in the pure air of this playing field by the sea, and listen to the seagulls overhead. If I’m to receive, it’s by being in the moment. Every blade of grass, every drop of dew, every little cell before me, is alive, alive, alive.
I close my eyes, and the sun warms my eyelids, I see rosy tints, the world is lit. I resolve to continue to notice the joy of ordinary moments today. This moment - this is enough.
There are so many possibilities. So many blades of grass. So many drops of dew.
Whatever you are doing today, take care of you.