Slow down

A life lesson that I have had to learn, re-learn and learn again. Slowing down is not part of my nature, it's a discipline I have had to develop. But when you do, amazing things happen. Being peaceful and calm allows you to soak up the things around you - the beauty in the everyday, a reciprocal smile from a stranger, the breeze in your hair, the sun on your skin. Breathing in the moment, in both senses, is a new-found habit which takes me to a good place. Happy. Grateful.

Because it's the little things that make each day count.


If you like this, you might like In Praise of Slow by Carl Honore

the big swim

 

Last Sunday it was very beautiful, warm, sunny, stunning blue sky. Now, I live in Australia, so this isn't all that rare, but as we're now into May and heading into winter, we're all appreciating the last of the warm days. Ok, hot. I am English, so in my book, anything over 25 degrees is hot.

Walking back from a lazy brunch in Manly, I watched truck-loads of surfers pile into the water. Feeling slightly guilty in my long sleeved layers, I promised myself that I would make the most of the ocean pool in Freshwater one last time this season. Striding down to the water in my swimmers and shorts (barefoot. because I live and the beach at that's still a novelty, even if I do get stones in my feet). I'll be honest, the previous summery confidence I felt wrapped in my warm sports lycra had now reduced, along with my body temperature.

But, deterred not, I was going to get in that pool.

I arrived, and of course, the usual scene presented itself before me. Accomplished ocean swimmers cut through the green water with grace in various strokes, but mostly front crawl. The kind where the swimmer keeps their face in the water for several breaths and then skilfully turns their head to take some air from under their armpit. Yep, the regular front crawl that normal people do. But for me, this is not so regular. I usually make an attempt, swallow a lungful of water and then make a scene, coughing and spluttering. Nice.

Despite feeling a wee bit intimidated, I plunged in, bracing the cold, feeling my body slowly going numb to that lovely tingly cold that begins to feel quite nice actually. Head held high (literally), I began to swim my usual granny breast stroke. The kind where I don't really get my hair wet. And yes, feeling slightly silly amongst my fellow swimmers, I swam a length. On my second lap, the wonderfulness began to sink in. The breeze on the water. The smell of the ocean. The salt on my lips. The laughter of kids playing. The sun in my eyes.

I was swimming like a novice. It was a bit chilly. I didn't care. I was frolicking in the salt water and loving every minute.