let's soften
+ a warming chai recipe
I’m taking my annual winter break over the next two weeks. If you’d like to catch up on some past letters in the meantime, perhaps you can mull over whether you’re a maximiser or satisficer or maybe you just want to sit with and notice. There’s a post about motivation and one about simple joy (of course!). Are we all thinking about how to stop buying things we don’t need or can we just blame the overwhelm of too much choice? Sometimes it’s helpful to remember the profound beauty of cyclical care which is one way to romanticise life when it feels hard. Mostly let’s come back to the undeniable fact that pottering is always a good way to spend a day.
A reminder that my fourth book, A Brain That Breathes, is available worldwide in paperback, e-book and audio (narrated by me).
A clear sky, dew on the grass.
If I look to my left I can see my washing machine tumble yet another load of clothes around and around again. There’s still no door on my office (just the impenetrable shield of a maternal glare) and I find myself turning to look at the spinning clothes quite often, although the timer on the machine is never an accurate measure of minutes. A load of washing is often finished before I fill a page with words and I remind myself that it’s winter; I am slowing down.
I’ve cooked porridge every morning this week, slicing banana onto creamy oats and pouring maple syrup over the top to sweeten the deal. The washing baskets are overflowing because of the rain and my eco-friendly dryer that wicks moisture from the cotton gently and very, very slowly has been on most days. There’s currently slow-cooked beef in the oven that I will try and stretch into two meals although I don’t like my chances.
I’m reminded of the Zen proverb that a friend shared it with me as we stood under the full moon at the ashram 20 years ago:
Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water; after enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.
All of life contains an unavoidable mundanity.