Category: beneath the leaves

Late bloomers

Out on our balcony garden the dahlias brighten my mood as the rain clouds drift by. I love how they remind me that it’s never too late to bloom. Growing up I always looked with envy at the kids who were blossoming; while I felt gangly and perpetually behind. I couldn’t have imaged then that I would be well into my thirties before I’d figure things out. Even as I was writing a PhD thesis on the topic of authenticity, I never once asked what all of that meant for me. It took a rather harsh wake-up call, before I started to build my life around the oak tree. Looking back I feel so blessed by the fact that I found the courage to leave the well-trodden path that others expected of me and to create a life filled with meaning and love. Not having lived a life true to themselves is the biggest regret people have at the end of their lives, as Bronnie Ware shows so beautifully in her book The Top Five Regrets of the Dying. So let these autumns flowers inspire you to be brave and live the way you want to.

Somewhere only we know

In the soft light of the evening sun, we wander around the secret garden underneath the pine trees. We marvel at all the wildflowers and the bees humming around us. It is the sweetest gift to discover the world together with our tiny unicorn. Her joy is infectious, her playfulness and wonder are enthralling. It took me a while to get to a place where things are easy, but it feels like we’ve really settled into the life that we share. People talk about the terrible twos, but I welcome her independence. Sure, holding boundaries is hard sometimes, but isn’t that true of all relationships? As Shefali Tsabary writes in her book The Awakened Family, we’d like our children to be autonomous thinkers and trailblazers, but not while they live with us. Our goal isn’t to raise an obedient child, but one who is firmly rooted in who they are, certain of their inherent worth, able to express themselves with authenticity and grounded in their relationships. Lest we forget, they are the author of their own lives.

Wandering

The world around the pine tree is quiet on this midwinter morning. A clear sky after endless days of heavy rain. Slowly I set out down the hill, breathing in the fresh air. It’s only a few steps before I notice the Traveller´s-Joy climbing over the hedgerow, it’s long feathers swaying gently in the wind. The forest path leads me further down the hill to the the cemetery, where my mum lies buried underneath the grand Magnolia tree. The dark-brown leaves have gathered on one big heap, blanketing her trunk. New buds appear on the bear branches, covered in a coat of fuzzy silver hairs, protecting them from the cold that might still come. Nearer to the river, I listen to the sparrows calling out to each other. Add some wild lavender and I find myself thinking – isn’t this bliss? I learned that walking is one of the best things to do to find your way back to health. Sometimes I chant, sometimes I just listen to the rhythmn of my footsteps… thump, thump, thump. Every step makes me feel a little bit stronger.

Cure for me

Rainshowers sprinkled with some autumn sunshine: a perfect time for homemade cookies. I scoot our little one on top of the counter. Roll out the dough on a floured surface, the recipe says. So I need to clean the counter top then. The thing is, I worry a lot about bacteria, but also about chemicals in cleaning products. Maybe just a little bit then? What can survive 220 degrees, anyway? Right? Never mind, let’s just go to the store! Just take a deep breath, you got this. Looking at her cut out tiny stars, I wonder when something simple like baking cookies became an act of bravery. John Green describes the ever tightening spiral of anxiety beautifully in his novel Turtles All the Way Down. It made me laugh so much, because it is so freeing to hear someone else describe exactly what that feels like. Luckily some days are better than others. Going to the beach – bare feet in the sea, feeling the sand between my toes helps. There’s wisdom in this old recipe for children who are overwhelmed: just add water.

Catching rainbows

I will never forget the day my mum died. Arriving at her hillside home after a tear-filled journey, I passed underneath her beautiful roses and walked into her silent house. As I went up the stairs, the first thing I noticed was all of my silly drawings hanging next to each other on the wall. It struck me in that moment how much my mum adored them. So that day I made her a solemn promise in my heart: to take my art seriously. That promise has been in the back of my mind these past three years. Instead of creating art, I’ve been busy with creating life. After her funeral followed the arrival of a tiny unicorn, our midsummer wedding, and making a new home. How blessed we have been with all of these rainbows! But beside these life events, I have also felt really lost without my mum. She was my ideal reader and without her… whom am I writing for? The answer remained hidden until our little one fell in love with reading books and drawing together, and all of a sudden I´m back in business.