Sunrises, different each day; blue, indigo, peach melba, mango sorbet.

The moon and the pale halo she wears even as she wanes.

How clearly I can see the stars, pricked points in clear black.

How daisies have pink tips in hear shapes on their petals.

How brilliantly happy-yellow dandelions are.

How leaves shine in the sun, even without dew.

How the dogs are much calmer with us around.

How much we all love reading.

The joy of reading without the guilt that I should be doing something else.

How much I appreciate my health.

How I pay much more attention to breathing deeply.

The stretch and flex of muscle as I do yoga.

The bird song; the air is so full with symphonies.

The reassuring hum of returning bees.

The unfurling of soft green leaves.

The winter fire dust on our shelves.

My dry hands from washing and the pleasure of rubbing in cream.

How quickly things grow.

How quiet and still the skies are without planes.

How I don’t miss travel like I thought I might.

That I am in touch with old friends, who have changed a lot, and not at all and who remember forgotten parts of me.

That there are spaces in my thoughts.

That I’m getting used to not being so busy.

That I’m getting used to not seeing so many people.

That the only money I spend is on food and books.

That a rhythm is developing where there was a routine.

That the kids are playing more and talking to each other more.

Dirt under my nails even when I wear gloves.

The pleasure of the air on my skin.

Gratitude for water in my tap, my bed, our food.

I’m changing, but still in my cocoon so can’t see how.

I’m curious about what next.

The flavours of food now seems more intense, more pleasing, as I remember that this virus could take away my sense of taste and smell.

That I have time to colour in and doodle and really be very present to the feel of pencil on the paper and what my boys are saying.

That moments are precious.

That days are all the same and yet completely, minutely different, varied, amazing, boring, simple all at the same time.

That simplicity and complexity, boredom and freedom, irritation and appreciation are everyday paradoxes that I live with.

That everything is happening now and here.

That I often feel alive and vibrant and fluid and accepting of what is.

That sometimes I feel irritable, sad, lonely, disconnected, scared.

An intense awareness of how fragile everything is and how fast life can change.

Love; for my kids, my friends, my family, the birds, the air, the bees, my skin, my heart, the soil, the dew, the sun, the moon, my breath, my sleep, my awakening, my life.

xxx Julie

If you want to know more about the practice of appreciating what is you can listen to this podcast. Remember, fear, sadness and anger are normal at this time and if you need help with your emotions you can sign up to the free course I made with Psychologies Magazine by scrolling down or looking to the side of this blog.  Also, hop over this page for links to live meditations or if you miss them, the recordings are on the video/podcast page for free .

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