Not much begins at the beginning. {30 days 30 posts 1/30}

This morning I indulged in the guilty pleasure of crawling back into bed with my coffee. It's school holidays and the children have been sick the whole time, and while I haven't had to do the grueling school run, my mornings have been marked by getting up to see who was sick in the night and to get the fire blazing so they will be warm. This morning though, they are on the mend and the winter sun is heating our loungeroom.

I'm always amazed how much creativity flies when I allow myself this "indulgence". I had my sketch book handy and before I knew it I was busily writing down notes for my next e-course, one I plan on starting to video next week when the children are back at school. Ideas I've been scrambling for for weeks are gently gifted to me in the space created when I stop "doing". Why is this such a hard lesson to learn? To stop calling "doing nothing" indulgent, to allow myself to loiter, to just be, to open? That work ethic dies hard, as does the sense of self that is tied to doing rather than being. And again and again I am back at this lesson...

"The night has eyes to recognise its own"- Whyte

Meanwhile, there are muffins baking in the oven, pumpkins roasting and the winter sun is beaconing me into the garden where the lavender awaits some care. This journal ends back at the beginning as so often is the case, not much begins at the beginning.