if there’s one thing that moving cities and countries has taught me, it’s to not be overly sentimental about possessions. objects move in and out of our home like the tides carry flotsam & jetsam to and from the shoreline. this month i’ve been spring cleaning — the pantry, the bedroom — distilling the objects in these spaces to just a pleasurable few.
inspired by “family meal” with friends last sunday, i’ve spent my lunches this past week devouring bowls of broccoli, sheep feta & red onions with baby spinach bathed in olive oil and lemon. so simple and just the thing my body craves after a lunchtime gym session.
after a long and tiring week, all i wanted for the ferry ride home on friday afternoon was something to focus on other than work. i started with tara brach’s podcast, thinking that her calming meditations would do the trick. i stopped after a few minutes, feeling like i needed something lighter, something funny. i found it in the moth — these stories, often moving, sometimes funny, had me giggling on the 35 minute ferry journey. as the ferry was docking, my table companions told me how nice it was to see me laughing and how much joy it gave them.
i’ve had a month of terrible sleep. i can’t work out if its stress related, or hormonal, the changing of seasons, or something else. whatever it is, i’ve had enough.
i don’t get as much of this as i’d like. my husband and i work together, commute together, workout together. i am longing for some alone time — a weekend to myself, somewhere i can hear the ocean when i wake and as i drift off to sleep. somewhere i can sit, quietly, with no conversation, no place to be, for as long as i like. somewhere that awakens the muse and calls to my creativity like a beacon.
last sunday we visited friends in their new home for “family meal”. the table: adorned with simple salads, roast kumara, spicy chicken. the conversation: easy. the music: chill. an evening that satisfied more than just a physical hunger.
the weekend before, we gathered with friends in gisborne for a long weekend. we shopped, we ate, we sat around the fire reading, we caught up on each others lives. this encounter lingers even since we’ve returned home.
i’ve had some weird dreams this month. often my dreams are recognisable, repeated, becoming more familiar with every viewing. this month’s dreams are all new — a trip to the chatham islands, a virus on my work laptop, a photography excursion that included more conversation about camera gear than i’ve ever had in my waking life.
listening // hebron by climbing trees