Slow Sundays

A piece on the seasons, pacing ourselves and savouring fully what each bring

Where we drink our morning coffee, behind us the creek, and above us the birds.

As it’s a Sunday I thought I would write a slower, more meandering read. I write every single day. Even if just a short story or a note. Writing is a discipline, like my daily meditation practice, that is a thread that pulls my life into deeper alignment. Self observation, understanding, working with our creativity and grace, and connecting to something larger than ourselves absolutely deserves our attention. Practices of expansion, that remind us of our humanity, for me are a must.

In Australia, like in many countries, there is a ‘first day’ and ‘last day’ of each season, as marked out on the calendar. Many years ago, we were introduced by our Japanese friends Tok, Hiromi, Hisanori and Naomi to the unique way in which the Japanese experience the seasons of Winter, Spring, Summer and Autumn. When our friends arrived from Japan to visit us in Sydney, we were musing on the first day of Autumn having arrived the same day they had from Japan. It created much confusion for them. The question of how we could possibly know it was the first day of Autumn, unequivocally, was also confusing for us. It was the 1st of April, end of story, it’s Autumn. For the Japanese though, the seasonal shift is instead a feeling, a gradual shift with a number of factors that indicate when a season is upon us. It’s an emotional, physical and spiritual response.

We were utterly charmed by this concept and it spurred further investigation into what the seasons truly mean to us as they shift around with changes in the global weather. We personally adore each season for what it has to offer. We love Summer for all the salt and sun we get to enjoy living on the coast. We are fortunate enough to have many sea side rock pools in which to bathe, the river and the creek that runs alongside our acre. To view the sun rising daily I know is a privilege. Summer is about plentitude, heat, cleansing and a time for of abundance. Autumn with the early morning chill setting in. noticed when we wake early to meditate and the house is so cold it bites (our house like so many older Australian houses doesn’t have insulation). Walking the dog the with leaves beginning to crunch under foot. The local farmers markets offer new produce and Summers bounty comes to an end.

It’s now officially Winter here in Australia, and these past few weeks on group trainings like The Empowered Woman, and in my Coaching sessions, I see people in singlets and sun dresses on the other side of the earth enjoying Summer. I am divided, as there is nothing quite like the energy of Summer arriving, the vibe of it filling the air and everyone’s bodies. But Autumn and early Winter are my favourite seasons. Autumn is a beautiful time for movement, travel, exploration and renewal. Winter, a charming time for slow cooked shared meals, time indoors, reading and rest. Winter is a time for solitude, reflection and minimalism.

Porridge with whey protein, greek yoghurt and a warm berry compote are a morning ritual.

I juiced the last of all our limes before aggressively pruning the tree back. The limes I juiced and make it to firm little jellies, that we eat on greek yoghurt with the last of the fresh papaya picked from the tree, and sprinkled with coconut flakes.

Winter for us is about celebrating the small daily joys, and relishing the everyday. It is about the heart being where the home is. Winter is a time for traveling within our homes, our towns in which we live. Instead of engaging in the worldly delights of international travel, we recommend exploration of what we can experience in our residences. Exploring the places that we think we know, to see what really lies there can be a very rewarding process. We usually are driven on weekends and vacations to ‘get out of town’ and adventuring out. While this can be very rewarding, in Winter, staying home can be equally charming.

So with this exploration on home turf in Winter, let’s also think about internal exploration. Modern life is usually filled with such exciting activity, that it can be challenging to carve out time to really explore within. Exploration within our minds, within our pure Being, nutting out who we really are, and what we want, and do they align. This is the opportunity that Winter presents. It is the perfect season to dive within, through daily meditation, through study of ancient wisdom, by reading philosophy and the great spiritual writings of our times and to ponder.

We have an outdoor fire pit and an indoor fire place, both requiring a tonne of kindling to be picked from the trees, stored in buckets alongside the stacked firewood. Arran has learned a lot about all the different types of wood and how they burn, and has become our household fire master and I am happy to leave it to him to build, and I just to enjoy.

Winter invokes for us smokey fires, of dense books that call out for absorption, of weekend mornings wiled away under thick linen sheets piled high with blankets. Winter is a time for chilly mornings spent at the farmers markets, purchasing root vegetables dug up only hours before with dirt clinging. Where sourdough bread is still warm on the crust and imperfect apples and pears yearn to be baked into a tart. When arriving home with the mornings purchases, the carefully sourced ingredients are popped together in earthenware to simmer throughout the day until thick and sticky. The results of which are a dish that is to be enjoyed in deep bowls with that sourdough loaf slathered with salted butter. All of it is enjoyed nestled on the lounge room floor on cushions, with soft jazz filling the air mingling with the scent of burning essential oils and beeswax candles.

Winter is a time for sitting in the afternoon sun sipping warm herbal drinks in the afternoons with friends. Warming ginger pound cakes and fennel and pistachio biscotti are munched on. Long unhurried conversations occur, as there is no where else to be, no frenetic Summer evenings demanding our being social. Friendships can be nurtured in ways that Summer doesn’t allow. Spring and Summer present weekends full of birthdays and weddings and parties and all the excitement that goes with socialising intensely. Winter on the other hand is for long lunch and dinner parties that start early, in a close friends home. Breakfasts drag as no one wants to leave and battle the rain. In Winter friendships can be lazy, languid and there is no rushing.

Winter is a peroid for nourishment and a deepening care and respect for the body and mind. Solitude presents us with this. When we are alone, when have no external distractions, opinions or influences in which to carry us astray we can really tap into what our hearts desire. We can relish this daily, with 5 minutes on waking each day, simply lying within our sheets, and feeling the energy forming within the body as we move from a sleep state into an awake state. Through hazy and gentle explorations of the beta waves of the mind. Each day we should make a little time in which to just be.

We can also take this a step further and carve out 24 hours, or perhaps even a whole weekend just to ourselves. No digital devices. A pile of well thumbed books and a new one, freshly scented with pages full of promise. A stocktake of delicious foods. Thick blankets in which to wrap ourselves as we meditate. Beautiful paper on which to pen our thoughts. Candles to burn and herbal tonics to ingest, and body oils in which to massage our dry skin with. There is much beauty to be experienced with solitude. At first the experience can feel gritty with emotions running high, and the stresses of daily life expelling themselves through the mind and body. Yet as we settle, and we let that storm pass, there is much beauty to be had in solitude. The calm after that storm is elegant and quiet. We can potter gently through the time, and rest and renew, with no one to explain to as to why we are taking a nap at 11am, or eating lunch at 4pm.

At the moment we are juicing mandarins, oranges and grapefruits picked from our trees. I cannot explain the joy this brings us, and when we can we drink them in the sunshine.

Le Corbusier spoke the famous words ‘Less is more’. And simplicity means our hearts can sing. Tuning into the season fully, means it passes more slowly, with elegance, and deepening appreciation.

With love,

Jac x