A wet and gusty campervan morning this morning. The rain is intermittent, but when it does fall it’s relatively heavy, the wind blowing through the oak, showering the grass and head with rain, to the point that I have retreated to the van. Much subdued and indistinguishable birdsong. The cloud bright, but solid white as far as the eye can see. Damp under foot, on the air and playing on the sides of the van. The full rain sensorial experience, not a great combination when fighting off a chesty cold. Also the senses fell just that little more acute and a tad more overwhelmed. The pause continues, no sign of abatement, so no choice, but to sit and be, warm myself with my coffee and watching the day play out once more. It’s a massive challenge on so many levels. Not a good one at staying still, an awareness of things to do, people that I have let down, but as I say the pause button has been pressed and that’s what I have to do. As Longfellow wrote in his poem ‘A Rainy Day’
“ Be still, sad heart! and cease repining, Behind the clouds is the sun still shining…,”
A few lines later he writes ;
“ Into each life some rain must fall …
Interesting thoughts around the refusal to accept the pause and still feel I have to be productive in some ways. My mind searching for things to do, usually means turning to reading, journaling and sorting stuff out. A single failure just to sit and be, accept the pause and heal and the lost art of recovery. Gavin Francis a Scottish doctor wrote a whole book on the subject ‘ Recovery, the lost art of convalescence ‘ and his exploration of the same and a rallying call against the productivity culture. He writes ;
“ Give time, space and respect to convalescence if you can. It’s an act that we need to engage in, giving of ourselves; a work of effort and endurance, and to a certain extent of grace.”
So let’s help ourselves be human by trying to accept the pause, work on the convalescence and rally against the insane need to be productive even when ill. Lovely days people.
“ Habit is habit, and not to be flung out of the window by any man, but coaxed down-stairs one step at a time.” Mark Twain.
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