Would you like a cup of tea? How to get through Christmas…

A cup of tea… the panacea for most things in life. 62 billion cups of it are drunk by us Brits each year, so it must help. When we don’t quite know what to say, or when we’re trying to avoid loved ones spoiling for a fight, we go and put the kettle on.

Perhaps you usually get your hot drinks from a local artisan coffee shop, with a Barista who’s part coffee alchemist, part therapist. But for the next 48 hours, it’s family, friends or yourself doling out your caffeine fix.

Over your lifetime you’ll probably have many different types of Christmas. Some surrounded by people, and some alone. Some with family, some with friends. Some at work, some needing care from those who are at work. Some happy, some sad.

You get the picture… and actually most will be a mixture of all of the above.

Throw in a global pandemic, where travel plans are thwarted by lines on a testing stick or government regulations, not forgetting the services cancelled by staff having to isolate etc.

This festive season is still uncertain for many of us, perhaps with loved ones in hospital or undergoing chemo & suffering the side effects at home, or with family preferring not to meet up indoors.

Or maybe this year your partner has the children and the house echoes with emptiness, and even the cat is sulking.

However your festive plans have changed, whether you’re downsizing your Christmas day to a microwaved curry for one, working double shifts to cover for poorly colleagues, or have invited the neighbour you don’t really get along with, but don’t want to see them alone this Christmas day… putting the kettle on might be a useful refuge.

Making yourself a cup of tea, or offering one to others gives you a simple task to do and a few minutes to yourself in the kitchen. Both are useful.

You might find yourself silently swearing with the stress… in which case try going through the alphabet for new words! Or if you’ve got a bird feeder outside the window, gazing at a thuggish robin chasing away a peckish blue tit might give a moment of escape.

You can be lonely in a crowd, and perfectly happy and content in your own company. But if you’re dreading the loneliness of a solo day, then having a rough plan is a good start. Knowing when you’ll wake, shower, put the radio on, eat, go for a walk, and perhaps phone a friend, what to watch on TV etc, can help.

Break the 24 hrs into manageable chunks, and remind yourself that this too will pass.

Some days are like this, and some Christmas days are just like this. Know that you’re not the only one. Behind many other front doors in the street where you live, this will be echoed. Perhaps next year, well in advance of 25th December you’ll have a different plan in place and invite someone else to join you for some part of the day.

Or you may be someone who is perfectly happy all year round, but dreads the forced party time with certain family members or friends who bring out the worst in you. In which case, a few things to remember that can help:

Offering cups of tea, or assorted snacks can help, if there are moments of awkward silence, or when it seems someone is about to burst into tears or start an argument with the same relative that they usually disagree with. It’s like distracting a toddler in a supermarket on the verge of a tantrum…

Like Noddy Holder in that Slade song, you can always shout, “It’s Christmas’ as another way of nudging the family away from cross words or soap opera style fights!

Or try playing ‘Tennis Questions‘. When someone asks you the question you find unbearable… perhaps the same person and question that sets you off every single year.

It might be about when you’re going to start a family, when you’re already on the edge of tears due to failed IVF, or ‘What’s wrong with you, why aren’t you in a relationship?’ when you’re the only single one in a family where everyone else is married before they reach 20.

For any of the above, you can play ‘Tennis Questions‘, where you bounce it right back to the person doing the asking. In the simplest form, this means saying, ‘That’s interesting. Why do you ask that?’

Or if you want another type of tennis move, if it’s a question about why you’re not having children, you can ask that person why they had children. Or when they’re making you squirm asking why you’re still single, ask why they got married.

Or if it’s something you’re fed up of facing every year, and have had enough of, you can try saying something like, ‘I know you love me, and wouldn’t want to upset me… but I find this too upsetting to talk about, so I don’t want to answer that and can we change the subject. Would you like a cup of tea?‘ And we’re back to our saviour, the kettle!

Also, worth searching online for the writer Martha Beck, and her ‘Dysfunctional Family Bingo’ for an idea… but let’s call it Creative family Bingo. Where you guess in advance the particular things that might annoy you about your own family gathering, and put them on a bingo card.

Ticking them off then gives your brain a mini dopamine hit of success, & a giggle, without it making you quite so angry.

For many years, I worked on Christmas day hosting live radio programmes. Often in phone-ins, we’d hear from those with non-traditional festive plans. Some might be feeling sad or lonely, especially if it was a first Christmas since the loss of a loved one. The comfort of a fellow human being live on the radio to talk to, or listen to can never be underestimated.

But we’d also hear from those quite content to be alone, and who would tell us with relish their plans for the perfect day. I’ll never forget one caller.

A lady who’d been widowed that year, so knew about sadness and loss. She said that several family & friends had invited her to join big family gatherings, that she was grateful for their kindness, but wanted to be alone that day.

She needed time and space to herself, and held cherished memories of the love of her husband on a long walk on the Yorkshire Moors with her dogs. Following this with a microwave curry, glass of a single malt & a box set of 24 was her perfect solo Christmas.

She sounded truly happy and content with the day, and phoned us to say how the radio had been on in the kitchen to keep that background noise as well, and thanked us for our company.

As we thanked her for listening and phoning in, and her wisdom. Finding something to be thankful for is a really useful skill at festive celebrations and all year round.

Let gratitude be one of your Superpowers. For waking up today with a roof overhead. For the ability to see the sky, even if we can’t see the sun today. For the love of family & friends, even the slightly grumpy ones that might be irritable today.

Gratitude for those no longer with us. Amidst the sadness at their loss, nurturing a sense of appreciation that they lived and we were lucky enough to love them. Gratitude for a box of tissues when we need to have a Christmas cry. Or for this year’s Covid symptoms.

Thanks for the cards, texts, emails, whattsaps, Skypes & any other ways that we communicate with each other to send our love.

For the tin of chocolates to dip into by the kettle. For Christmas TV shows. For the happy times we can remember, and the fact that we still have more ahead, even if we can’t see it yet.

For everyone helping in a busy kitchen to prepare a meal for a table squashed full of all the generations of your clan. Just taking a split second to notice and appreciate it all, with love.

Or for a Christmas cosy in pyjamas, eating pizza & chips…

However you plan to spend your Christmas this year, I wish you the best for it. Punctuated by several cups of tea, with the kettle as your saviour. Not to mention the mince pies & chocolates.

We cracked open a box of After Eights yesterday lunchtime, confessing this blatant breaking of the rules of the universe (as it was before 8pm) in jest to our pub quiz Whattsapp group.

Pub Quiz Andy replied that we’d been spotted by the Mint Spies!

Take that as your early Christmas cracker joke…

See, it’s nearly 26th December already & time for that first cup of morning tea.

Photo. Thanks to Rumman Amin Unsplash.

Solstice, the gradual return of the light. And chips for breakfast!

Photo from Unsplash, thanks to Niklas Hamann

Wiser women than me state that around 3.59pm today (UK time) is a good time to focus on the Solstice.

To let go of the difficult stuff from this year, taking note of what we’ve learned from it, & appreciate our resilience. Then to focus our intention & attention on the coming year ahead. What matters most for us, the people & endeavours that are worth our precious time & energy.

Change & impermanence are the only certainty; something most of us truly understand as we age. But throw in a global pandemic and even toddlers are fully aware that everything can and will change in a heartbeat.

The world weary 3 yr old daughter of a friend of mine now suggests or blames ‘the Rona virus’ as a potential reason why she can’t have or do whatever she pleases. Why can’t I have chips for breakfast or a unicorn for Christmas? With a theatrical sigh, ‘Oh, is it the Rona again? It’s not fair!’

It’s something that has hurled a spanner into the works of many of our plans & assumptions over the last 2 years. From work, school, family gatherings, holidays and more, so is it foolish or naive to even think about how we want the next year to be?

I’m world weary enough, like the 3 year old, to know that it’s not as simple as wishing or imagining something we want, and in some magical way, it will appear or manifest. Otherwise Jason Momoa, aka Aquaman would be helping with the washing up as I type this.

But aside from all the stuff in the universe we can’t change, and have no influence over… there is the small matter of ourselves. We do have some sway here.

Some.

So we begin here. In whatever small way we can. In some December Mindfulness sessions we looked at the idea of ‘Worth’, the title of the Michael Keaton film about how insurance companies assessed the worth of a life of those lost in 9/11.

But more broadly, considering what you consider ‘worthwhile’ for your time, and what really matters to you. How we spend our days is how we spend our lives, as the saying goes. In 2021, when you look back at the year, as we tend to do in December, what was really worthwhile for you?

Maybe it was the tiny things, keeping a potted plant alive, reading more books, getting to know neighbours or distant family better, baking your first loaf of bread, or growing your first tomatoes.

Or the sustained efforts, like daily 10,000 steps, whatever the weather, volunteering for a local community group, or learning a new language online, even though travel abroad was tricky this year?

Or the bigger things like navigating a divorce, a job loss, serious illness or the death of a loved one. The things that forever alter the fabric of our day to day existence and may have found you sobbing on the bathroom floor at 4 am, wondering how to go on.

Sometimes the notion of getting through the next 24 hrs is overwhelming, so just figuring out how to get through the next hour or minute can be enough. When things are this tough it might seem too much to contemplate what matters to you for a whole year.

But sitting for a few moments, with a cup of tea, reflecting on what your values are, what really matters when things get this challenging can give you an anchor. Or a vague sense of where North is on your own personal compass.

Love & kindness are pretty central to mine. No matter how many bad things happen, and these last years have seen the loss of work & money, the ill health & depression of loved ones and the death of a beloved friend. Love & kindness remain my home base. Almost an act of rebellion!

These things that nearly break us can also break us open with a tender vulnerability that helps us connect with others who are struggling.

I’m nowhere near perfect, like most of us, just a foolish imperfect being who is trying my best. With a lens of love or kindness, I can see what everyone else is trying to do, and know that we’re all just stumbling along, hopefully walking each other home, as they say. With cake and tea-breaks sometimes.

So whilst we can’t yet know the details of 2022, we can start from the tiny centre of ourselves and where we’re going to focus our time and energies. What really matters to us, and to let go of the other stuff as much as possible.

Solstice seems like a good chance to sketch out this line in the sand, and remember the gradual return of the light bringing a little hope even on the darkest days.

Who knows, although we might not get a unicorn for Christmas… we can choose to have chips for Breakfast. Solstice chips… maybe with a fried egg to symbolise the golden sun & the gradual return of the light!

Photo Unsplash, thanks to Scott Eckersley.

Always tuck things in your pockets…

Unless something is about to go in the washing machine, then empty your pockets…

But if you hop off the train after lunch with a friend that went on for 3 hours, tuck the ticket in your jacket pocket.

If you’ve been to the cinema, slip a popcorn smudged flier in the side pocket of your rucksack.

Or keep a scribbled loved-up post-it note from the other half, and slot it in the pages of a favourite book.

Simple things like that.

One day you might stumble on them accidentally, and happy memories come tumbling back.

Like tonight, I just found the receipt for a Thai takeaway & time travelled back to a summer night of torrential rain. (Well it is traditional for a British seaside holiday, and we were in Cromer.)

Drenched by soggy downpours, we stood outside Bann Thai and awaited our order, huddling together under a tiny umbrella and joking about being soaked by more water than they used in the film Aquaman.

Then like a magic spell, our name was called & we dashed back to the Air BnB carrying steaming tubs of ridiculously delicious green & red curries. Wrapped in towels, we feasted & warmed ourselves from the inside out.

Who needs sunshine on a Norfolk beach, when you’ve got the chilli heat of the finest Thai food outside of Bangkok. Free chocolates too.

It’s the last half few minutes of November, I can hear the rain outside now. But if I close my eyes, I’m back in Cromer… wondering if they deliver to the Midlands this late…

Photo thanks to Unsplash, Natural Chef.

Autumn Wisdom from Children’s TV

Do you remember Bod?

When there weren’t endless channels of choice, we had just one programme at lunchtime each day for us kids. Well, that’s how I remember it.

Bagpuss & Pipkins were good, but my favourite was Bod. A triangle shaped person with their own theme tune. In fact every character had their own theme tune. Perhaps you can choose your own theme tune for today?

Anyway, Bod had mellow adventures, and once there was a snippet about trees losing their leaves as the seasons changed. (We didn’t have Mutant Ninja Turtles back then, or Zombie pizza games… )

I remember Aunt Flo was sad about the trees losing their leaves, but Bod offered an alternative way of looking at it. Without the trees losing their leaves, they wouldn’t be able to grow cherry blossom next Spring, or the Cherries in the summer after that.

The nature of ‘impermanence’, and how things are always changing was a simple yet profound insight for someone like me, who’d had something of a chaotic start to life, with 5 different families and homes in my first year alone. Perhaps a first glimpse of the Mindfulness traditions that would continue to be a foundation of my life.

As a grown up, I notice on a sunny Autumn day how you can see more of the blue sky with fewer leaves on the trees. Nearer winter, you can even see the birds more clearly on sparse branches. I practice this stubborn optimism to nudge out the winter blues!

It’s all about where you focus your attention.

I later discovered the creators of Bod, Joanne and Michael Cole had Taoist beliefs. Bod has a slight look of a monk, now I think about it. Serene face, bald head & a stubborn optimism.

As a kid growing up in Birmingham in the 70’s I’d not heard of Taoists or Buddhists, but this stuff made sense to me. Perhaps I was a ‘Bod-ist’ long before I set foot in a Buddhist temple years later. (Excuse the pun!)

Finding the wisdom in the everyday is where the gold in life is. It could be from Kids’ TV, a line in a favourite song or film, something your 6 year old says when the cat gets sick, or watching the dog relish every sniff on a morning walk, discovering the same park anew; all things can remind us of these simple but profound truths in life.

Seemingly endless huge changes in all of our lives over the last 18 months for sure, but hopefully if we look up, still some glimpses of blue skies to tide us through the colder months ahead.

Having changed the clocks last night, tonight’s earlier darkness will be noticeable. But we can keep our focus on the light, whether it’s candle lit pumpkins for Halloween, or scouring Youtube for a clip of Bod, perhaps that Cherry Tree episode…

Photo thanks to Unsplash, as our pumpkin is already roasted & half eaten!

Soap malfunctioning & a belted laundry basket.

Did you ever hear of soap malfunctioning?

Maybe that conjures up images of soap refusing to lather into bubbles… Or being so slippy that it keeps sliding out of your hands & onto the bathroom floor, resistant to any attempt to pick it up again.

To be precise, it was the soap dispenser that malfunctioned.

I know, I know. You’re right. Why do we need a soap dispenser, when a bar is the natural way for soap to dispense itself?

Well, mostly we do just use bars of soap the traditional way, in our ongoing attempt to use less plastic. But we’d got the in-laws staying recently, for their first visit since the Pandemic. And I’d found an old plastic pump bottle of liquid soap in the cupboard, and thought as all four of us would be using the same bathroom for the weekend, it might be a good time to use it.

So I put it out on the sink.

It worked just fine for the weekend, and about a week beyond that. Then it started sulking. Requiring several pumps before any actual liquid soap spluttered out onto my hands.

Then it retired as a useful means of getting the soap out, and just sits on the sink shaming me for the needless plastic. Mocking any thought that it might have saved me a few seconds with that pump action.

So we’ve returned to the bars of soap we’ve been happily using for the last few years. You know, the kind of soap that doesn’t malfunction.

Meantime, the plastic bottle glares at us. Daring us to use up the liquid soap inside it, and challenging us to repurpose the container.

Any ideas? Like most of us, we’re not perfect, and do have plastic things in the house. But, like most of us, we’re trying to reduce them, and not buy more.

The laundry basket is proof of this. Handles that broke years ago were first replaced with some old luggage ties. Hooray!

Then further cracks appeared deeper down. Boo!

They have been threaded through with an old leather belt that holds the basket together, and becomes a new handle. Hooray!

I love the ingenuity of my beloved, one of my favourite things about him. Never throws things away.

He looks at an old bed base, and sees kitchen shelves.

A broken suitcase, and sees a courgette planter.

Sees his old belt as a laundry basket handle.

I’m curious now, what will he see the plastic soap bottle becoming?

Give him time… he’ll think of something.

Meantime I’ll apologise to the trusty bar of soap. Sorry for doubting you, and thank you for never malfunctioning. Simple is often best.

Simple soap, I’m sure we’ve got one of those in the cupboard.

Tutu & Wellies, a Hand fasting & cups of tea.

What to wear for the last day of July, an outdoor celebration & a mixed weather forecast? After life on endless Zooms, we’ve forgotten what to wear.

Tutu & wellies was the brilliant choice of a practical little ballerina today. Five year olds are so smart!

Wolverhampton & Essex’s finest were all dressed in their most glamorous outfits. The first glimpse of a party for over 18 months was something to relish.

The occasion was a Hand fasting & Broom Jumping for a phenomenal couple, who’ve had to postpone their wedding three times.

But they haven’t postponed their love!

It was my pleasure & honour to be their Celebrant, delivering a ceremony I’d written to celebrate their love & love story so far. And a great excuse for a party to bring the two families together.

You could sense the deep love shared by the couple and their families & friends gathered in the garden, and the love was matched by the laughter. Luckily they giggled at all the jokes I’d written, as well as the ad-libs. We all used to work together, so there was plenty of ‘material’, and the sun finally peeked through the clouds to shine. The groom had faith, as he kept his rock n roll shades on for the ceremony!

Such an uplifting afternoon, where we celebrated the love of everyone present, as well as the happy couple. Concluding with a ‘Jumping of the Broom’ by the couple, followed by jumps from friends, family & all the little ones who’d behaved beautifully throughout the ceremony. Like a mini Olympics with Wine Gums for medals.

Then before heading home, I met up with a lovely friend & former colleague. Over a few cups of tea we caught up on the last few years. Toasting her success finishing a degree in lockdown.

It’s important it is to have these ceremonies & celebrations, big or small. The bigger dressed up ones take a bit more planning, but worth it for the shared happiness.

The smaller ones, like meeting a friend for a cuppa are every bit as treasured. For many of us, something we’ve not done much of recently. Perhaps we can elevate them with a mini ceremony of our own? Even a simple ‘Cheers’ to signify the occasion.

We can remember to tell the other person how much they mean to us, how we’ve missed them and how good it is to see them.

We can wear a tutu & wellies. A cup of tea & a dance in a back garden, the simple pleasures.

Kissing, as a Mindfulness Practice?

Can you remember your first kiss?

Maybe it was a poster on your wall, or someone in your class at school?

Or maybe you’re thinking about your most recent kiss? Or your next one, given that the Pandemic has delayed many things, and dating has not exactly been easy for anyone…

Is there a significant kiss that springs to mind? A memorable one, such as the first one after proposing to your loved one, or just after marrying them? So significant, that we even make that part of a traditional wedding service.

Or that tender kiss on the forehead of a newborn baby? Or perhaps it was a gentle kiss on the forehead of someone seriously ill, and you gathered up all your love and meaning into that precious moment as you connected with them.

Anthropologists are about 90% sure that kissing is instinctive behaviour, but the other 10% (the unromantic ones) believe it to be learned behaviour.

But another way to look at kissing, is as a naturally mindfulness practice. Something we do with care and attention for the other person means being present in that moment without distraction. This is a perfect and pleasurable practice of mindfulness.

Mindful kissing. Wonder if that’s what the Prince song was really on about…

If you’re distracted by watching television, scrolling your phone or making breakfast, then it’s not the same. Still lovely to have a quick kiss when things are hectic, not complaining about those.

And we’re not just talking romantic kissing, but those affectionate kisses to beloved relatives of all ages. Maybe you’ve missed the slight bristle of stubble & aroma of freshly doused Lynx, as you greet teenage nephews or grandsons, or a hint of ginger biscuits mingled with aniseed balls from a great Aunt, as she pecks you on the cheek with such care.

But when you consider the memorable kisses in your life till now, they will be the ones where you’re fully in the moment. Maybe eyes closed. Yes, that’s a great way to focus the senses on a good kiss.

A wise Zen teacher, Frank Ostaseski talked about kissing as a way to explain mindfulness to teenagers in a school, and he’s right. Mindfulness isn’t just something to do for a set time each day, sitting cross legged on a meditation cushion, or on a retreat in the Himalayas.

And it doesn’t have to be practised with an incredibly serious look of concentration or frowning. A relaxed awareness is a good thing to aim for, while paying attention to the present moment.

So you might notice this when you kiss someone you love. Or it might be when you’re baking a Birthday cake, fully focused on weighing ingredients, & stirring it with love, or when tending your garden and gently weeding around thorny rose bushes. Or when taking your ageing dog for an evening walk and noticing how you’re both getting a little slower, but still relishing the fresh air and exercise.

A kiss may not last for hours, but with mindful attention, and hopefully with love, it lingers. Maybe even for years. Like a photograph, the memory can be conjured up years or decades later. Perhaps you can enjoy thinking back over an early kiss. Or three… Wondering where that other person is now, and remembering the details of that moment.

I remember once walking past a teenage couple on a canal towpath. They were engaged in full on snogging and one shouted out ‘sorry’, as if I’d be offended. I reassured them that it seemed like the most wonderful thing to be absorbed in on a grey Tuesday, and to go for it! I may also have mentioned that I was a teenager myself once, many years ago…

Do you remember your own teenage kisses? Late at night, with a salty tang from the shared bag of chips, on the night bus home? At the back of a gig by your favourite band, when they played that special song? Or at a train station or airport saying goodbye, or hello? Those Richard Curtis moments from ‘Love Actually.’

It might be a golden seal of protection that we feel we’re wrapping our loved ones in when we kiss them goodbye. Imprinting them with a homeopathic hint of our love to keep them safe and well until we see them again. That visceral sense of touching their skin and connecting our separate selves as one for a brief few seconds.

That’s something we’ve missed so much with Lockdown. Zooming, Skyping & Facetiming are the most amazing inventions that have kept us all feeling a sense of closeness despite the lengthy isolation.

But we can’t kiss or touch on a screen. Although many of us may have had to wipe lipstick or tears from a screen, having tried.

The isolation has added to the sense of loss for many who couldn’t be with loved ones when they died. It felt wrong or cruel, and unnatural. That primal longing to touch had to be denied, when countries, cities and hospitals all had lockdowns at various times recently.

Something we can never underestimate or forget.

So perhaps that’s the most precious freedom for many of us at the moment. Not the opening up or restaurants & bars, but that chance to get closer to our loved ones, gradually. Perhaps waiting to make sure we’ve been double jabbed to protect those most at risk, and then finally being able to get close and hug those we love. Before keeping a safe distance apart in the garden while sharing a cup of tea & a ginger biscuit.

Maybe a gentle kiss on the forehead, or cheek of relatives & friends we’ve not been able to touch for over a year.

Eyes closed, and paying attention with a relaxed awareness of gratitude. We’ve missed those Lynx or aniseed ball whiffs, and that connection to those we love.

Enjoy the precious chance to add a new memorable kiss to our list… happy Mindful kissing x

(Kiss sign photo thanks to Tim Mossholder on Unsplash.)

(Kissing Otters photo thanks to Ryan Hyde on Unsplash.)

When did you last…

Photo by Arno Smit on Unsplash

When did you last sit underneath a tree full of blossom? Preferably with a picnic and maybe with a few of your favourite people in the universe… as you gaze up at the flowers in awe?

Hopefully you’ve been able to do that in the last few weeks, or if not, that you can find an hour or two next month to squeeze in this delight. In Japan they have the Sakura festival – the festival of Cherry blossom. A time when no matter what else is going on, however busy or stressful life can be, the effort is made to spend time wondering at the majesty of a tree in blossom.

In fact they even have a word for this most essential centuries old activity – Hanami. This means the act of observing the flowers. Preferably also eating, drinking and even barbecuing whilst relishing these transient flower displays.

Poets have referred to blossom as Spring snow. Deliciously pale pink or blushed white petals of ‘snow’.

Cherry blossom is revered as a symbol of renewal and hope, hence the urge to spend time near them and treasure them. The time in flower is brief, perhaps only a week or two depending on the weather. And it varies.

In Birmingham, Oozells square outside the Ikon Gallery in Brindley Place has a few of these exquisite trees. Last year they were already in blossom as the first Lockdown was announced. A lovely friend who works nearby vividly remembers gazing at them as she left the office with a bag packed, stumbling into the unknown.

Quite literally, as she tripped down a step while unknowingly performing ‘Hanami’ and enjoying the blossom. Maybe this is why a picnic/barbeque with friends is the tradition, safety in sitting down to gaze up above. (As someone who is incredibly clumsy, with the co-ordination of a tipsy baby giraffe, I’ve made a note to stop and stand still next time I attempt Hanami, just to be on the safe side.)

The anniversary of Lockdown this year, and no sign of a flower on the same trees. Perhaps they’d missed the human connections we all have, and that may have combined with the weather to delay exuberant flowering this year?! Eventually they did blossom with jaw dropping beauty…

The transient nature of blossom makes it all the more precious. Knowing it won’t linger, we have to take ourselves outside and look up to notice and appreciate it. Or if you’re not able to be outside, maybe friends and family can bring the blossom to you, with a phone video? Or Google will find you countless hours of the world’s most aesthetically pleasing blossoms to enjoy.

Or maybe it’s not Cherry blossom, but Lilac on a tree near you that is just getting ready to burst into flower. Or a tulip bulb or rose bush in the garden getting ready to splash full colour and bloom radiantly?

Or wild primrose, bluebells or dandelions that spark joy, as they carry on doing their own thing, modestly flowering closer to the ground. Still every bit as beautiful once we notice and appreciate them.

So this Spring, Hanami is the way to go. Noticing and appreciating any and every flower in your garden, your neighbours, or your local park. Watching Gardener’s World and seeing Monty, Carol and the gang of experts tending and nurturing seeds, cuttings and plants to spread beauty throughout coming months.

It might even be getting the brightest colours from your wardrobe and dressing yourself in the radiant colours of these blooms to feel that pop of colour cheer you up, or liven up the next work Zoom meeting. Or slicing fragrant mango for breakfast to add a burst of golden sunshine to porridge.

If Hanami and Sakura are about making a little time and space for beauty, colour and nature, then we can do that throughout Spring in a myriad of different ways. My partner is colour blind, but has trained himself to notice or remember colours in the garden.

I point out which flowers are peeking out this week and remind him which colours are where, as we share a cuppa in the garden. A goldfinch lands in the birdbath, showing off the red and yellow feathers that look as if they’ve been coloured in by a child in a drawing book.

Hanami might refer to gazing at flowers, but we can echo this sentiment by gazing in wonder at the birds. Or worms. Did you know that worms can ‘taste’ sunshine? Since I read that, I’ve been marvelling at the humble worms as much as the robins do when we’re digging up the garden. Although I’ve not been eating them, as the robins love to. Well, just the sweet jelly worms they sell in the local shop. They are bright jewelled colours, one as pink as cherry blossom…

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

Lessons from the swing…

(photo thanks to Justin DoCanto at Unsplash)

This afternoon I had a long to-do list, on the last day of a hectic March. It was sunny outside. People say if you put your laptop in a cardboard box, you can still work in the sunlight, without it making the screen illegible.

But that hasn’t worked for me yet. Squinting through my varifocals, I still can’t see the screen clearly.

And did I mention it was sunny outside?

I’d already put the washing on the line, a simple Spring ritual I relish. Living in a flat for most of my life, with no garden, means I still love the novelty of a peg. Pegging clothes for sunlight & fresh breezes to dry is still a joy. Even when the entire wash seems to consist of 137 socks, I love to peg. One sock is always hiding, ofcourse…

After the washing, I should have been getting on with my to-do list. Emails to reply to, emails to write, emails to send, articles to write, sessions to plan etc. But it was sunny outside. And the forecast for tomorrow didn’t have big yellow cartoon sun symbols on it, so it probably won’t be sunny tomorrow.

So it would be rude not to go outside, wouldn’t it?

I wrote a funeral service last week, for my work as a Civil Celebrant, and wrote a line about how important it is sometimes in life to ‘turn our faces to the sun’. And right now, so many loved ones are struggling with all sorts of things, and life in 2021 is far from simple for any of us at the moment. We’re all just doing our best.

Sometimes we really do have to turn our faces to the sun. Not just metaphorically, although that is certainly true. When things get really difficult, stressful and broken, sometimes we have to remind ourselves to try and find that chink of light that Leonard Cohen wrote about. ‘There is a crack in everything… that’s where the light gets in.’

Over the last year of lockdown, many of us have had to repeatedly remind ourselves, or nudge ourselves to turn our faces to the sun, to try and find some light in the darkest of days, as that is the only way we can keep going. Finding our way out of the dark one tiny bit at a time.

And sometimes you just have to go and sit in the sunshine in the garden, on the swing and enjoy the sun. It can be rare in the UK, so if it’s at all possible, when we can, to go out and relish and appreciate it. Even just a half hour break, with a cup of tea.

Humans are a lot like plants… some sunshine, and water helps us grow in places where we’re welcomed. Just sitting in the garden, hearing the chattering of bird song, watching robins, blackbirds, sparrows and blue tits at the bird feeders and then splashing around in the bird bath.

Seeing the signs of new leaves growing on the lilac and blackberries, and last year’s chard getting a spurt of new growth. Gazing at the cuddly furry bees waggling around, and spotting butterflies just doing whatever they were doing fluttering round our little garden.

Bliss. Utter bliss.

I’m not so important that my to-do list couldn’t wait till tomorrow. Sometimes we just need to sit and do nothing at all, other than observe what is going on around us. Notice the world carrying on quite happily in spite of whatever dramas are currently consuming us.

Then I went for walk and called a friend who is still recovering from surgery. She sounded a lot brighter and much more herself than when we last spoke, and is able to go for short walks or hobbles. This is the good stuff. All part of that sunshine we turn our faces towards, with gratitude. Finding the cracks where the light gets in won’t always involve actual sunlight. Although on days like today it does.

I took a book outside, ‘The phonebox at the edge of the world’, which a friend had kindly sent as a gift. One of those exquisitely written books that you want to read just a few pages at at time and savour each phrase like a morsel of the finest chocolate truffle.

So after a few pages, I marked the page and tucked it in the shade under the swing and savoured the last few minutes of sun. I had to move the swing around a few times as the sun moved, or tucked behind buildings. This reminded me of that phrase ‘turn our faces to the sun’. Sometimes it takes a bit more work than that, like getting up and moving the swing, or chair.

Sometimes it takes walking to the local park, or driving to somewhere open, or flying off on holiday to be in the sun… maybe one day in the future we’ll be able to do that again. But for now, if you’re lucky enough to have a garden, or local park, and we’re lucky enough to get some sunshine through April… we can turn our faces to the sun and let it shine on us.

If you take your chocolate eggs with you, keep them in the shade, or you might need a teaspoon to enjoy your chocolate smoothie!

Firsts, Lasts & Mini Eggs. Not quite that Barry White song, although ‘My First, My Last, My Mini Eggs’ could be a karaoke classic this Easter…

As Winter gets ready to exit stage left, the last week of February brought a sneak preview of Spring. Sunshine. Warm enough to close the laptop & eat lunch in the garden while gazing at the first bees nuzzling the crocus flowers. Happily pegging washing on the line for the first time this year, as a ladybird landed, enchanted by my partner’s Star Wars socks. You’d love the films, I thought, while gently moving the tiny spotted one away from Chewbacca & onto the daffodils.

Bliss.

Rehearsing these Spring rituals of outdoor ‘firsts’ lifted the tail end of February. Particularly welcome, after a long winter lockdown that saw many of us weary and fed up. Longing to meet family & friends for lunch & hugs and all the many things we’ve missed for the last 12 months.

We can never be so sure of the ‘Lasts’ in life. Whether it’s smaller things like the last time we went to a cinema, gym, or hairdressers. Although a quick glance at my recent home haircut tells you it’s been far too long…

Or the bigger things, like the Last Time your youngest child wanted a bedtime story. Or the last time you held their bike seat until they could pedal off independently to freedom, leaving you trailing behind in the park. Or the Last Time you juggle ‘home schooling’ in lockdown. Something difficult & challenging now, but in years to come you might remember with fondness & even nostalgia.

Or the Last Time we got stuck in rush hour traffic heading to work, only to be made redundant. Or the Last Time we took our health for granted, before that hospital diagnosis that changed everything. Or the Last Time we saw a loved one. The minutiae of daily life that precede major life events acquire added significance.

First Times & Last Times, big & small mark all of our existence. As we’re nudging into Spring, ready to let go of Winter losses & restrictions, we try to focus on the optimism of the ‘First times’. Practising what Liz Gilbert describes as ‘stubborn gladness’; we can see clouds in the sky, but continue to tilt our heads towards glimpses of sunshine.

It doesn’t mean we’re ignoring the losses wrapped up in our ‘Last times’ list. By fully acknowledging the sadness of them, we eventually find an impetus to savour the details of these ‘ordinary’ moments that become extraordinary with hindsight.

David Kessler’s book about the 6th Stage of Grief notes how the vulnerabilities of loss can ultimately lead you to you find extra meaning in the everyday. Moving through intense pain & suffering heightens sensitivity, but can also attune you to appreciate the sweetness of a simple moment.

You may know this already. The loss of loved one highlights how precious other family & friends are, and you prioritise time to cherish them. Or a serious illness helps to shift priorities in your daily life. Following months in hospital, the gratitude of waking at home to greet another precious day, where just watching the cat yawn seems wonderful. Literally full of wonder, in our new state of gratitude.

All of us will have serious losses to deal with in our lives at some point, as well as the Pandemic experience, which has been likened to a form of bereavement. The loss of those everyday freedoms we took for granted, and to be with loved ones. As Winter fades away & we welcome Spring, let’s learn to trust in First Times again. Notice & appreciate them more than ever.

Celebrate with a toast to friendship & laughter when we return to a favourite cafe, or greet the Landlady with a bunch of tulips when back in the pub for a pint. Hold hands & hug for much longer than usual when we greet much loved family again. Savouring & supercharging all our senses. I’ll be overjoyed to feel the warmth from the oval Pyrex at the first roast dinner at the in-laws & hearing the mini avalanche crunch as the Vienetta is sliced will be glorious!

Let’s practice these rituals to relish the everyday throughout March. We’ve got a few more weeks at least, before we’re fully able to reconnect with loved ones or return to Hairdressers or cafes. But we can still notice & appreciate what each day brings us for now. That’s what Mindfulness helps with, staying in the moment and becoming aware of where we place our attention or focus. Like taking a Kodak Moment snapshot & tucking it close to your heart.

Rituals to relish the everyday, not always knowing when will be the First or Last Time, but appreciating this time. Now. Today. In this moment. This cup of tea. Or this bag of chocolate Mini Eggs. Don’t judge me, they were by the till when I did the shopping! The First bag of Mini Eggs this year has become something to celebrate & add to the list of Spring Rituals.

I think Einstein would’ve liked chocolate Mini Eggs. He once said ‘There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.’ Your choice, but I know which I prefer. The harshest losses may have dented my armour to teach me this, but I stumble forwards with stubborn gratitude.

Seeing the first bees and ladybirds & taking a moment to marvel at them. Which reminds me, I’d better get the washing in. A simple domestic task, but one I still relish after decades of living in flats, where washing dried indoors & underwear would stare at you from the radiator. Now I delight in the impromptu ballet of the duvet cover twirling in the breeze, or a tea towel tumbling into the birdbath.

So here’s to Spring. And us enjoying stretching our crumpled wings to gradually explore the world afresh. Like the ladybird & the Chewbacca socks. Perhaps I’ll show it the Star Wars films this year? That would be a First Time, for me and the Ladybird.

P.S. if you’d like to know more about this Mindfulness stuff, and join one of the regular sessions I run, just message me from the ‘Contact Charlie’ bit of www.charliejordan.co.uk There’s one coming up Sunday 7th March at 10.30am, or Monday 8th March at 7pm. You’ll have to bring your own chocolate eggs though, as they’re on Zoom…