I laid out on the mossy earth staring up through a network of winter-withered branches and felt myself withered too beneath the weight of a grey, duvet-piled sky. Life is not always a bed of roses. Sometimes it throws challenges and nature knows that only too well, I think, as I shift my gaze to the fallen branches—snapped and broken remnants of the storms she frequently faces.
Rest into these challenges like nature, Alice, I hear my voice say out loud.
Breathe into them.
What would it be like if we were to truly lean into the wisdom of nature? If resting into the challenges looked like being able to step back from the overwhelm, choose our choices carefully, allow in only what we know we can handle, and slow down—be quiet—so that we can know what we can handle.
It seems this life—this material life we humans have created and nurtured—demands more of us than weathering the storm quietly atop the moss-covered ground. Instead we must go out, work, buy food, put petrol in the car, see people, show willing; be willing. And all the while the clock of progress ticks as we scramble to succeed, the constant influx of gizmos and gadgets to speed us up under the illusion of giving us more time, bombarding us from every angle.
Sometimes it feels that the very essence of true connection—with self, with others, with the earth—is being swept away right beneath our noses and yet we are so strung up and strung along that we have lost even our sense of smell.
Some days I wish to stop the clock.
Some days I wish to do nothing but stare out of my little caravan window across the Highland Glen where I now find myself, empty my mind of all the expectations, all the responsibilities, and let that be enough.
‘How long can I live on my lentil supply and carrots and potatoes from the winter-produce store here on the croft,’ I muse, pursing my lips and furrowing my brow, lost deeply in thought.
In a course I’m currently attending with Professor Edwin Bryant: the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, a text roughly 2000 years old, we are reminded frequently that as yogis we aspire to be Free of Desire and yet, as Professor Bryant himself highlights, this is in conflict with the consumer culture within which most of us are living; within which we are all pulled and pushed and, at times, too exhausted with all the pulling and pushing to fight against, it seems.
And yet, here in the Highlands of Scotland, beneath the winter-withered branches and grey, duvet-piled sky, I find the space to step away just a little bit more and question just a little more deeply and I feel my desires waning…but then I ponder whether the longing to step away even more is, afterall, still a desire.
⭐️ NEWS for February ⭐️
🙏🏻 Slow Community
If you would like to experience a little more of the Highland home where I’ll be staying for the next couple of months, I would love you to join me for this 👉nature-infused guided meditation and (re)connect with your truest self.
As a Slow Member you’ll receive several practices like this each month, plus access to member-only chats and live Zoom gatherings. I hope to be a gentle reminder in your ear to slow down... breathe deeply... and make time for yourself.
Last month I offered a 👉winter-inspired journalling experience along with a 👉Sleepy Sunday 40-minute restorative yoga class, which included Tibetan Singing Bowls and some Sanskrit chanting with my harmonium. I would love to welcome you into this community of gentle folk seeking calm!
🧘 Yoga
My 👉February/March Class Schedule is now LIVE! I’m going to be leading a four-week YIN experience and a ME TIME gentle yoga and meditation class. I hope you will join me so we can connect and support each other! (Remember: A perk of being a Slow Member is that you’ll receive 20% off any of my four-week online LIVE yoga & meditation experiences.)
✍🏻 Writing
It was a delight to interview Floating Our Boat in the most recent issue of Towpath Talk. Fran & Richard live a truly simple, slow life aboard their narrowboat, Laura Maisie. 👉Read their story right here!
In the Arms of Nature