Hello 🙂

Today the kids (as has happened every day since we came back from West Cork) decided that they ‘only’ want to play sporty stuff in the garden with Daddy, not go somewhere further afield.  I am an optional extra to their plans, as Hubby is on annual leave.

I chose to stay in, and journaled around today’s question in Hannah Braime’s book, about how I could be kind to myself…

When I am old

Yes, today may not ‘count’:

The cups of tea I drank,

The songs I sang;

The smiles my husband gave while chasing balls

Swatted back to him by little hands.

In futures hence, this solitude means naught:

The dust motes that I noted

Pages read;

The sunbeams that I savoured just through glass

Yesterday’s hair I still sported in bed.

A busy world undoes the fragile link

One has with breath and thought and calm and peace;

A tip towards the chasm/

Thirsty soul

Has me running for quiet release.

It is a pretzel twist I get into:  I had time to myself and was ‘still’ – but busy – and ultimately have now shared my solitude with the world.

So was Art the point here, or have I missed it?!

Was I being kind to myself letting the poetry come through me, or was I just dwelling on things as usual…?

😉

[Pic is from here]

[I am currently journaling (and writing poems) around prompts from The Year Of You: 365 Journal Writing Prompts For Creative Self Discovery by Hannah Braime – Kindle ASIN: B076Z6Y5L9]

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