Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Time's a Wastin'.

The days are slipping by.

I cringe every time I respond to someone who asks how I am by saying "I'm really good but BUSY."  It's so ridiculous to look back over the past months and beyond and realise that I've been constantly repeating that phrase.  Over and over again.  And then, before you know it, it's been a year.  A year of busy-ness.

And it's not just me, everyone seems to be so freaking busy.  I find myself constantly turning my diary page to the next month to book in a dinner with a dear friend or a weekend away with another.

It's actually really hard to not buy into the societal norms, we are so encouraged to over-extend ourselves, to be everything to everybody.  Leaving very little time for our own self.  And after so many years of working like a maniac in corporate workplaces I still find myself constantly overworking and being constantly available all the time.

Lately I've been trying to get less busy.

It's a process but I'm getting there very slowly.  Today I woke up with morning birds and jumped on a train to my country home; it was my second country train journey in a week - so lucky, I am.  I listened to Sal Kimber and Liz Stringer and The Tallest Man on Earth as the wattle trees and deep green paddocks rushed by before I picked up a car and hit the highway.  My journey took a whole day and it's not even finished.  A journey that I could have replaced with an hour and a half flight.  But that would have been boring.

The slower route is so much sweeter.  A hopeful signal of days to come.  Slow days that can only come about by our individual choices.

I'm making the choice gosh darn it, I'll keep you posted as I go, ok?

A few recent loves...

Your heartstrings may also be tugged by this beautiful little ditty by Lucie Thorne.
I took the pic above in the forest near Whole Larder Love's place when we went mushrooming. His ladylove hellokateberry has just launched a new blog, Lunchlady, and it is pretty darn brilliant.
In keeping with my Iceland obsession I read Hannah Kent's debut novel Burial Rites over the past few days. It's bleak and utterly beautiful.

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