Be Present

Be present, it is the only moment which matters

I do not know where I got this quote or to whom it can be attributed to. It is one of those quotes which has been with me through many journals.

Every so often it comes to mind and makes me stop. It is good to stop and savour that precise moment.

This morning I was busy with lists and the things I “HAD to do.  It was the only thing I could think of.  You may know that feeling, when the rush of life overtakes?

I was hanging out the clothes and suddenly stopped.  It hit me that I was so lucky to have a place to hang out the clothes after washing them.  I was so lucky to be physically able to hang out those clothes.  I was lucky to have clothes to hang out.

I found myself carefully hanging out those clothes and being aware of what I was doing.  It was a surreal experience.  From the mundane to something special. Too often I am caught up in the things or jobs which must be done, without experiencing the joy of being able to accomplish those jobs.

Sometimes, it is good for the spirit, the soul, the person to take time to notice what it is we are doing.

To savour that moment and appreciate it.

Her Garden

The day began to appear and with it a gradual warmth which eventually would raise the temperature to record heights.  But now at six in the morning, with her hands wrapped around the first cup of the day, the early morning hours were hers alone.

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She looked at her garden with fresh eyes.  It was as if she hadn’t really seen the garden before.   Nothing had changed from yesterday.  It was still the same garden.  Or was it?

She wasn’t a gardener.  In fact, she actively detested “looking after “the garden.  It was a chore.  What would be worse than tending the garden? There were few chores which in her mind were worse than tending a garden.  At that moment in time she could think of none.

Her distaste of gardening didn’t take away from the fact that one of her favourite places in the city was the National Botanic Gardens.  An oasis of beauty no matter what the season, what the weather or what mood she was in.

 

She was a city gal even at sixty years of age.  Holidays spent in the country as a child were never ending.  The highlight being mass on the Sunday with a visit to the shops to get the Sunday Paper and a bar of chocolate.  The open spaces of farm lands always felt threatening.  There had been too much open space and certainly not enough buildings for her.

To this day the thought of having a holiday entirely spent in the countryside sent a shiver down her spine.  A planned day trip had to have a stop in a town.  It didn’t need to be a large town, but a town was a must have.  She liked to see and feel hard core concrete.  There is a beauty in the myriad of textures and colours of concrete.

Looking at her garden in the early summer morning sun she realised that the garden had become her garden with the introduction of breeze blocks, concrete slabs, rusty bicycles, tin buckets and even car tyres. IMAG1066

 

 

 

The garden had become her garden with a design which had grown over the years through the inclusion of hard, harsh, beautiful concrete.

With the cup of tea now finished and the list of “things to do” calling to her, she smiled and realised that at last she could now relax her garden but perhaps a few more raised beds of breeze blocks might be a good addition. IMAG1065

 

 

 

 

With a smile she made her way inside to wreak havoc on that “to do “list.