Pause

The irony of wanting to write about time and then not finding any going spare has not been lost on me, so in an attempt to rectify things I am, today, going to make time - or rather take time.  I can't make it, I can only choose not to do something else with it, in this case the monthly delve into the finances, and let's face it - who wouldn't rather write?!

For a while now, and particularly since the start of the year, I have been watching a tree.  Actually, I do more than watch.  I photograph it, talk to it, and yes, have been known to hug it, but mostly I just stand with it for few moments, my hands resting on it's trunk, my fingers tracing the scars where the bark has split in order to grow, my eyes scrutinising it's branches for signs of life.  And, in my ignorance, I am somewhat surprised that it takes until mid April for the first of this year's leaves to open. (But I'm getting ahead of myself, let's pretend for now that it's still March, and I'm becoming increasingly fascinated by how long it is in the waiting, biding it's time for the right moment to flourish).  There is a peace to be found under this canopy of bare branches and I find myself increasingly looking forward to my (almost) daily visits. Thus when the inevitable question of "What are you going to do once the art exhibition is over?" arises, I find myself saying "I'm going to sit in the pause".

Learning from the wonders of the natural world around me, there is nothing natural about leaping from one big thing to the next without a period of reflection, contemplation and preparation, and I find myself being called to slow down, to soften my gaze and quieten the chatter in my head so that I might recuperate from this period of intense activity.  I appreciate that I am fortunate to be afforded this luxury of choice, and yes, I intend to make the most of it, but there is little risk of me being idle.  Before the art was off the walls, I have already begun facilitator training with a program called Active Hope - which focusses on taking positive action now, in the belief that it will make the hoped for outcome more likely, in particular when facing concerns about the future regarding climate and ecological issues.  Meeting fortnightly over Zoom, with a paired practice in between, 16 of us from across Europe convene to learn from the authors of the course and each other, ways in which we might play our part in making a difference.  And for me, a lesson in just how lazy I am in my choice of vocabulary, especially when speaking, which is generally fine until you're paired with a wonderful German woman called Yasemin, who isn't going to let you away with verbal diarrhoea of any kind!

Thus, my somewhat throwaway, but yet still heartfelt comment about being grateful to the tree and nature for showing me that there is a different time scale to things, comes back to bite me on the backside when later in our gratitude practice I am asked "And what are you actually going to do to honour that gratitude?" Whilst she makes a note of my answer, lest I should try to squirm my way out of it later!

Thinking on my feet, I blurt out "Park time!" Which, I think you know by now, requires some further explanation and I find myself committing to unplugging my headphones and not checking my phone from when I enter the country park on my dog walk, to when I leave, in an attempt to enter a different state of time, or a different feeling of it at least.

By and large that part of my walk takes me an hour, we walk a similar route at a fairly consistent, if slightly Nash hampered, pace (Nash being the dog who doesn't walk anywhere in a straight line).  I can spend that hour, thinking about all the things I should be doing, slightly anxious about there never being enough time to do them, or I can switch off and immerse myself in the nature that surrounds me, open my eyes and my ears and, without altering my pace, just slow everything else down.  Suddenly my walk includes an hours open focus meditation.  Thank you tree, thank you Yasemin, and thank you little snail who I spotted on the path in front of me, the perfect reminder and photo opportunity in one.

Except it isn't the 12 April anymore, it's the 9 May and much like the tree that has burst into leaf, 'Thrutopia' has begun and my life has just gone Boom! Which is a tale for another day, but perhaps if I wanted to use a tree as a symbol for slowing down and taking my time, I should have paid greater attention to the season first!