Tsunami...

This week has been somewhat of a tsunami, physical and emotional things happening non-stop and culminating in an ankle surgery booked for early September. I feel vindicated with the idea that when waves threaten to break over us, the cottage is the only place to be, because problems shrink in size and life is more like a box of chocolates; one is at liberty to choose the bitter and dark or the sweet and milky as one wishes.

As I drove back to the cottage after the surgeon’s appointment, the trees still glistened with a myriad of diamonds and pearls and wisps of river mist lay in the folds of valleys and around tree canopies as the sun began to dissolve their softness. How could I still be so caught up in my head when with some mindfulness, that sight was there for the taking? My shoulders dropped, I rolled my head and stretched my neck, anticipating beaches to be walked as soon as I was changed from city clothing to coastal rags.

Other things:

The dog and I walked through the pine woods – petrichor was strong but intertwined with the fishy aroma of seaweeds and sea air. ‘They’ say that the smell of the sea reduces stress by 17%. How do ‘They’ know this? And how do ‘They’ measure it? I read the percentage somewhere online many years ago, no idea where, and the figure has stayed with me so that I look at the sea and mutter ‘17%’, like some mad old biddy. It’s rather like when someone dispiritedly asks you the meaning of life, the universe and everything and you chime loudly, with pure positivity: ‘42!’And really, do read the link – it’s funny and fascinating all together.

In the spirit of funny, I watched the divine Tom Read Wilson interviewed by an Australian morning TV show

and it really just took my fancy. I adore him!

Not funny at all, I made soup too, this week, from leeks and potatoes. It tasted bland after blending, so I googled how to improve. Google said with lemon rind, juice and grated parmesan. So I added the bits and we had it with crusty bread, quince and pear chutney and delicious pepperberry cheese and it wasn’t too bad. But on reflection, I wish I’d avoided the parmesan and just added a good handful of fresh thyme and dill. Tonight we’re having what’s left over and so I stirred in a big mixed selection of chunky, herby roast veg, topping the ensuing casserole with flaked almonds. And because this week has been a tsunami with little time to cook, I dug round in the freezer for a cake and found a banana and sour cream job which I then coated with chocolate icing. Very moist, very yum! I think I may have made it for the shearers but we didn’t need it.

I counted 8 weeks until surgery, so The 7 Week Challenge (now at week 2) will be extended so that by the time I go to hospital, I hope I’m relatively fit for a septuagenarian (according to my son!). It’s a homemade thing of 10,000+ steps at least 5 times a week (if I can get more, good-o!), one or two real cardio hills weekly, ballet, a cold-water swim weekly or more, plus anything else I can throw at it. The Challenge worked a treat for the huge bowel op two years ago so here’s to its efficacy. I’m disappointed that I won’t be able to dance for 4 weeks after the op but I can swim in the ocean in 2!

Bearing that in mind, I swam this morning in a gentle swell and with fine sunshine. The water temp was 13.6 Celsius at 11.30 AM, there was a snickerty southerly breeze but the water was bearable in a wetsuit. I swam back and forth – breast stroke with a freestyle kick because the wetsuit buoyancy floats my legs too high. The kick keeps the legs exactly where I want them in the water. Not pretty but who cares?

Later, The Womble and I sat in the sun, breathing softly and watching the birds feeding. A little bit of peace…

Before I go, husband took this last evening on our walk at about 7.30PM. Lovely, isn’t it? No tsunamis there.

Over the years with emotional and physical tsunamis, I think we learn a lot about ourselves. I learned that sometimes I pushed myself too hard, too intent on trying to be the perfect everything. A bit woebegone around the edges, I would clear a patch on life’s foggy window so that I could look out longingly and see the life I really craved.

Bit by bit, word by word, paragraph by paragraph and meditating every day, one window after another cleared. I could garden if I wanted, dance if I wanted, gosh, even be a published writer if I wanted. Even be an introvert. I could learn from an excellent teacher on how to float mindfully on the crest of a tsunami and not be frightened of or drowned by it. Of course, I would take in water, cough a lot, would have to work hard to stay afloat, but I could ride the wave, ride the progression…

Music? The brilliant Kelly Boesch:

PS: Please note that my Instagram account has been hacked by @PrueBatten77. They have taken my image, some of my pics and stories and my followers’ list. I’ve reported them to Instagram and apologise to any friends/followers who are being stalked. I am changing my password, AGAIN, and possibly my account profile pic. Thanks for your patience.