A Foot in the Slow Lane
And a jam jar of flowers. And classes, of course.
It is 9am on a Friday and I am still in bed. For someone who is usually up at dawn, feeling the need to steal away with the day, this is quite unusual. Especially in the summer. But I am trying to gift myself the odd slow day; ones ring fenced in the diary by their empty lines, lines that only get filled in as I go along. No plans. Just whimsy.
It is a luxury, I know that. And there’s a part of me that thinks I should be getting on with work. That inner school teacher voice who always feel the need to find a retort to rest. As though it is somehow lesser. But I have learned, or am learning, that the teacher is not always right
I am determined to keep a foot in the slow lane. At least one. I have surprised myself with how much I have liked being there. Loved it even. The resistance I have always innately carried to shifting down gears is fading. Probably with my oestrogen levels. And to be wholly honest it feels like a blessed relief. Like an exhalation. Or how acceptance might feel in the body.
So I am still here, in the cool of my sheets, one cup of tea down, contemplating stretching things out with a second. And I am struggling most to pull myself away from the smell of the roses that are in a jam jar on my already overcrowded bedside table, dropping their petals onto my summer book pile. They are dying, which is why they are giving off the headiest of scents, so strong it woke me up, or at least it felt that way. I am intoxicated. I can’t leave them. Or at least thats my excuse.
For years I didn’t know that it was in the decay that roses best smelt. That that was why those horrible tightly budded ones that come wrapped in cellophane, mass produced goodness knows where and bred to live for seeming ever, never give off any smell. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, I am sure. Something about decay and beauty and impermanence. About the price to be paid for immortality. But I am too foggy headed still to conjure it up with any fluency. I am not yet thinking in fully formed prose. Just snippets of idea and memory and conversation that are pinging off the sides like pin balls, or shooting stars. It’s a happy mess in there this morning. One that I know will only be resolved by movement; yoga maybe, or a walk by the river. Which I suppose will be the next thing on my non-list of things to do. Maybe. Depending. Depending first on when I can tear myself away from my roses. And whether I indulge my thirst for more tea. Let’s see.
PS Just a small extra. I would highly recommend having a jar of flowers by your bedside table. It’s a very simple thing, but one we rarely do for ourselves I think. Guests often get a pretty bunch, and maybe the living space downstairs, the loo even. But our own bedside tables, like ourselves, are often the last to be treated to anything. It is a small thing, but one that punches above its simple weight as far as joys are concerned.
Anything from the garden will do, a rose or two, or even just foliage. Or for those who live local to here you can treat yourselves to the new and very wonderful Pick Your Own field at the Chippy Flower Farm. Buckets of flowers to fill with whatever is in bloom and then take home & scatter liberally across the house, bedside included. An easy delight, from start to finish.
CLASSES NEXT WEEK
I am away Sunday and Monday this week, celebrating the end of my youngest son’s GCSEs with him and his brother. Hence the earlier weekly musing ( today), and call to class. So book now and pop it in your diary. Because classes are on as usual next week. And it would be lovely to see you there. Or to send you a recording.
Details and booking links are below.
Tuesday 28th June Zoom Class 9-10am Live Online or Sign Up for the Recording
Wednesday 29th June In person Class at Enstone 9.30-10.30am
Bookings for BOTH are via my book when page.
https://bookwhen.com/nicolecroftyoga
For those who still want analogue you can of course just turn up on Wednesday, sign your name in the trusty purple book, and pay cash. Or if you get to Thursday and suddenly fancy the recording just message me and I cna ping you something.
Just to say that we only have two more official weeks of classes before the summer break. If you haven’t yet resurrected your yoga, now is the time to remind yourself how much you love it, so you can weave it through your summer. Yoga is great at any time of the year, but the body is especially responsive in these warmer months. Its worth making good use of the natural space we have at this time of year, if you can.