Since the beginning of this year I have been on a six-months long hiatus from work, a sabbatical of sorts, a leaning inside quest if you will. It may not have been a book-worthy one: there were no exotic travels, I rarely even left the town I live in; my Zen teacher’s surname starts with van der and the main male character in my story is still the same. But oh, how worthy has it been to me.
So what have I been doing these past months?
I have been breathing, literally and figuratively. After the whirlwind of the past few years, two children, two juggling careers and little sleep, I really needed to catch my breath. I have spent more time on the yoga mat abdominal breathing, deep throat breathing. I have been trying to regulate my breath so that I could run ever longer. I have learnt to use breath as an anchor to be mindful, stay present in the moment.
I have been playing, literally and figuratively. With the important people in my life, in random situations, with deep entrenched truths. On the floor, in the sandpit, in the kitchen, in my mini-garden. With paint, sand, flour and soil. With ideas of space, easiness and courage. I have learnt that with deep trust, courage of acceptance and a pinch of hope life in itself is a playground.
I have been loving. Not much to say here. I have learnt that love is not attention, is not effort, is not time. It comes before all of it. Before any doubts, fears and questions, in the very core of me. It just is. And this, perhaps, has been the biggest revelation of all.