Sarah’s Journal

24 Nov

Posted at 17:57h in Sarah's Journal by

My life changed when I learned how to regulate the pattern of my energy. The key for me was rhythm. I now try to follow a daily schedule of waking, walking, working, eating and sleeping. When I’m tired, I need to sleep. The energy drink has become a necessary boost for many who work too hard, too long, in irregular patterns then play hard too. I feel sad that the loss of self-regulation has become so normalised. Our circadian rhythms dictate brain waves, cell regeneration and other autonomic body functions. A life with a good balance of diurnal activity and nocturnal rest creates a foundation for healthy body and mind. I see the havoc played in those close to me who juggle shift work. The lift and subsequent blood sugar post Taurine drop of energy drinks are symptoms of a disregulated cycle, a different kind of disconnect from nature. I wonder who drank these – the workmen on the near-by building site, or self-medicating occupants of the church gardens?

22 Nov

Posted at 17:04h in Sarah's Journal by

Always too busy, with self-imposed deadlines and unreasonable expectations of myself, today I have come to a standstill. My energy is low and concentration poor. I fitfully sleep then read. I am marooned on the sofa with the animals for comfort and company. Gigi uses my immobility as a chance to cuddle up and share warmth. I have slipped into a state of exhausted helplessness. A cold has delivered me briefly to ‘the kingdom of the sick’*. This is a temporary visit, but it’s a familiar place that I have spent long bouts of time in…I fall away from my engaged active life. My vision shrinks as though I am looking through a macro lens at my surroundings in close up. My eyes swim with the magenta of my shawl, my hands drink in the soft velvet of the cushions. A trip to the kettle seems an epic voyage. From moment to moment I track the aches and pains that circulate round my body – sore throat, swollen glands, headache, blocked nose, sneezing. I notice the heat ebb from my feet, squeeze knots of tension around my neck. I let myself off the hook, give myself to rest.
*from ‘Illness as Metaphor’ by Susan Sontag.

20 Nov

Posted at 21:52h in Sarah's Journal by

Here I sit, right now in time. I feel the reassuring support of this seat and my breath spiralling in and out. I also notice how much the present is coloured by responses to my lived experience. In grief rituals that connect body with feelings and mind there is the possibility of surfacing some of the old emotional deposits  stored in our cells in order to clear them. One reason is to be more available to live fully in the present. In my psyche and in the context of grief rituals the future looms large. The present era with all its injustices, inequalities, floods and raging wildfires will give rise to what comes next. Being here now is a worthy starting point, but I am wary that without a more intentional framework, without a commitment to being of service, to fulfilling my highest potential to be fully me, it might be another kind of disconnect.

19 Nov

Posted at 21:45h in Sarah's Journal by

There it sits, nestling on a rail between drab coats and no-longer-treasured jackets. It has been waiting for me. Like a glass slipper, it fits perfectly. Today my prize is a pink fur jacket with illicit micro-fibres. I try to reserve my fashion purchases to the pre-loved, or organic eco-cotton. Like a well-matched blind date, we tentatively introduce ourselves, but notice the chemistry between us. I imagine how we will be years into our relationship – partnering with dresses I’m already intimate with. I glance coyly in the mirror as we snuggle behind the too-tight-fitting changing room curtain. If the universe has sent me a jacket in dusky pink with the softest touch, it would be churlish to reject it. We leave the shop together, my purse lighter, to get to know one another.

18 Nov

Posted at 17:13h in Sarah's Journal by

As we leave Union Chapel, the shadow of the gate plays on the wall. We have been to ‘Breathing Space’, a night of meditation with Boe and Bilal. Given space to honour our pain for the world, we discuss ‘the great unravelling’ as Joanna Macy names it – the shadow consequences of ‘business as usual’ caused by the industrial growth economy. The acknowledgement and naming of the shadow, the unseen, brings power through seeing the whole. Everything has a shadow. “That which you do not love regresses and turns hostile to you”, states Jung, whose wisdom illuminated ‘the shadow’. I sit today with my own dark side – the imposter, the incompetent as well as the righteous. Pickle (aged hound), now fairly deaf and near blind moved toward my shadow, which was skulking on the stairs; he then jumped to find my body behind him. I observe the play of light and dark, see the beauty in the shadow curlicues on the wall. The next evening in the series is ‘Active Hope’.
www.unionchapel.org.uk/event/11-12-19-spirituality-in-powerful-times/

17 Nov

Posted at 16:59h in Sarah's Journal by

The party has waves of activity. The highlight for me is watching Dex on the decks. His hands pause limp over the mixer, waiting to bounce the next tune into the mix. I love to watch as his arms, cast adrift, throw the energy of the tune into the room. His gregarious enthusiasm and geek-tech side come together here. Like a map, young people cluster around the house in continents. There are the dancers downstiars, the smoking talkers around the fire bowl, the chilling-outers upstairs, the shouters on the stairs, and the unwell on the floor. I hide in my garret unable to rest, unable to dance on my crook knee. Occasionally I creep downstairs, recoil from the swill of beer on kitchen surfaces, the disregard for proper recycling, and return to my private haven. But my nervous system registers each excited screech, each loud knock on the door. I recognise the time and energy I have put into learning how to party well over the last twenty-four years. There is a narrow edge between enjoyment and hedonism, which I hope they navigate successfully.

16 Nov

Posted at 21:39h in Sarah's Journal by

There are some jobs which can be done quicker, faster and more efficiently with a cable tie. In an ideal world there will be no unessential plastic. In the meantime, I would like to praise the re-usable cable tie. This packet cost just a little more than the disposable single use cable ties in the DIY shop. The word ‘reusable’ on the label is easily missed. They look almost the same as regular ones, but a clever flange allows them to be closed then released to open again. Be a connoisseur; when rope or string just won’t do, invest in re-useable to make essential connections.

15 Nov

Posted at 21:45h in Sarah's Journal by

A nature table was a regular if dull part of primary school. I remember a much more interesting one being a holiday project age eight while staying on a farm with my cousins. I have forgotten what we collected, but recall my excitement and muddy boots. Now I live in the city, yearn to be surrounded by nature. Instead I see moss growing in concrete cracks, trees struggling through pavements and brambles creeping out of the woods. We make a nature display to bring tiny microcosms of this wondrous natural world inside the house. Increasingly I see how disconnection from nature is at the root – or should I say, ‘rootlessness’ of everything. I believe this disconnection commonly cuts us off from our source of power and earthing.

14 Nov

Posted at 21:28h in Sarah's Journal by

Visiting a friend, I see their garden gratefully swallows every morsel of food waste. Nature reappears inside the house as blousy perennials set on tables in vases. A bunch of celery sits on the kitchen table. Plants are revered inside and outside for taste and beauty. The allotment, tended regularly rewards the gardener with organic produce. This one small bowl of compost is the key to a whole set of domestic priorities and a productive eco system.

13 Nov

Posted at 15:29h in Sarah's Journal by

I stand looking up at this mature London Plane tree. Its bark is mottled and knobbled with cankers. Two arms reach out as though about to bend and gather me up. Its leaves are yellowing, thinning on top like the mullet of an ageing rock star. In the midst of the rush and busyness of freelance life, this is a moment of pause. Calling Charles Eisenstein to mind, I embrace this still centre of Hackney Downs as an antidote to “the Problem of Urgency”, that “struggle may itself be part of the problem”. Instead I dwell in the calm of tree time. I breathe; spend just a few minutes not racing to the next destination.