Skip to main content

The Sage Routine

Words on Self Care in a Shifting World



[Diary extract]
Continuing to feel calm with undercurrents of dread. This is the new normal.

I have had plenty of after work dips at Carlyon Bay, easily picking spots away from the gathered youths and the lone figures a-fishing for sea bass. The bar there is open now, neither busy nor empty. I can’t hear the music from the sea, only the waves.

Last time I swam a school of sand eels swarmed me, leaping out of velvety turquoise water in little flexes of silver under a sky smudged from mauve to orange.
Gaudy in a good way.

I floated back and berated myself for such luck, though I have put intention and action into curating this, because this is how I honour life. It is important sometimes to chastise oneself, to shake out the demons of laziness and complacency.

But when the dread seeps in it is necessary to change this tactic, to follow the sage routine:
allow it,
see it,
know it as part of the flow of change.

Give yourself the love you need. Small things are best. Small actions are fine. Remind yourself that it is not your sole responsibility to save the world, and that you will not be saving anything if you don’t take care of yourself.
Build from love.

Labels:

Comments

Elephant's Child said…
Poignant and true.
I find myself envying your immersion in those beautiful waters too...
14 July 2020 at 23:46
The Armchair Squid said…
Wise words.

I would have loved to see those eels! I won't deny it would have creeped me out but I sure would have bragged about it anyway.
15 July 2020 at 12:58
Lisa Southard said…
While I envy your 2020 reading list - that's impressive! xx
18 July 2020 at 09:00
Lisa Southard said…
Sand eels swim in mass but individually are small - I could have been severely tickled :-)
18 July 2020 at 09:04
The Armchair Squid said…
Tickled sounds alright. Better than being stung by a jellyfish, no doubt.
20 July 2020 at 02:11
Lisa Southard said…
Jellyfish season is just beginning, so hopefully I won't be able to make that comparison. Mostly we get mild stingers here (fingers crossed)...
21 July 2020 at 07:52
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

There is weather today, I do note it: take a few moments to reckon the size of a cloud (big) and the frequency of rain (sporadic.) Centre of my interest though is a stack of magazines. Not the fashion kind. This is martial arts research. I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, but intuition calls loud. A range of old adverts skew some amusement. Contact pants, for example. Pants are not trousers where I come from. They are underwear. Professional contact pants: improved smirk value. But why would a person be likely to purchase a grappling hook and a lock pick set? For specialists and hobbyists only, the blurb assures. Guidance on the pheromone spray that attracts women against their better judgement? I doubt it works any more proficiently than the mysterious potion that defines your muscles while you sleep. But, then: I wonder is some sprayed on this paper? What was my intuition thinking, making this ghastly shout… Tea break time. There's a lot of words...
2 comments
Read more

Back From The Future Blog Party

Another joint blog adventure- if you want to see who else said what the list of participants is here . The premise is this: 'You're up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven't brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you ... from you. You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox -- sent from ten years in the future -- and it's filled with items you have sent yourself. What's in it?' Here's how I imagined it: Before dawn? Shadows outside, first forming. Sleep has gone, I don't know where. Coffee I can find. All the way from Machu Pichu, this fair-traded pack. Scissors are in the drawer, which ...
26 comments
Read more

Hometime Foam Time

It was hot outside, cold indoors. When we were freed from the hall I opened my car thinking oven gloves might be required for driving. I was weary. I was lined up for a row of shifts- but the evenings are lighter now, and the beach was calling. I drove a wiggly route to Veryan (the road I chose was closed) and down to Carne Beach. Since I had checked the weather the wind had turned easterly, and the tide was in. There were waves smacking over a disappearing line of fine sand. Undeterred I wriggled my swimsuit on and went to play in the foam.  Neither air nor sea was particularly cold. Blue and cloud patterned sky, blue and turquoise patterned sea, flowers blooming and swooshed by the wind, and the warm brown crags of rock: to be here was to be directly connected to the source of all existence.  Home time was foam time, and vice versa. Afterwards I sat in my car, door open, eating a square of dark chocolate, watching the white flecks and trying to work out if the dark dot was a...
Post a Comment
Read more