Wind is howling around the eaves as I write this morning, sending parched leaves scuttling across the yard to pile up in drifts against the garden fences.

It’s a cold Spring morning, but sunshine is streaming through the kitchen windows, flooding our tiny house with light and warmth.

It’s definitely time for cuppas and hot, buttered toast.

The last month or so has been a whirlwind for me. A beautiful, soul-stirring, life-giving whirlwind. One of those times when the plans you lay out for yourself get thoroughly upended, yet turn out so much nicer than you ever thought possible.

It has been good, so good, but also a bit bonkers. So I pulled back from all unessential things so I wouldn’t get worn down while I figured out how to navigate this unforeseen, but welcome, path.

I decided to start getting up an hour earlier each day, 4 a.m. instead of 5 a.m., so that I could have a couple of quiet hours to myself for reading, writing, planning, and just enjoying my coffee before animals, clients, gardens, and deadlines demand my undivided attention.

I have loved it. Truly. Sitting in my chair, listening to the steady tick-tock of the cuckoo clock, watching the sky slowly lighten. I get to scribble at my leisure, getting the thoughts and feelings out and acknowledged so they don’t muddle and distract me the rest of the day.

I spent much of my life as a Reactor, reacting to events, decisions, and situations beyond my control, but now, after much healing and muddling through wonky thinking, I get to be a Manager of my time. And it is lovely. To wake up each morning and get to plan how to love and care for myself, Bear, our animals and farm, friends, and clients.

I wasn’t a very good Manager in the beginning, pretty dreadful, actually, but I’m getting better and better all the time. I still forget to look after myself, still get distracted by work commitments and realize I’ve been at my computer for 12 hours straight instead of taking breaks to go for a walk, water a garden, or have a companionable chat with Bear on the veranda.

But I’m learning.

And I love the learning process of being the Manager of my own life.

Taking ownership and responsibility, embracing personal and professional development, asking for help when I need it, offering help when it’s needed, slowing down and prioritizing the spending of time with good people.

Those early morning hours make all the difference for me. They help me wade through my personal whirlwinds and get to a place of clarity and purpose, enabling me to do what is most important to me. Even though I’ve never been busier in my life, I don’t feel frazzled or unduly stressed because the vital things are being looked after.

For me the vital things are the soul things: friendship, creativity, personal growth, rest, fun. Work will always be there. It’s a necessity for getting through this life with shelter and food and transportation. But those other things, they make life worth living, they give meaning to the work we do.

Yesterday we spent a whole day on our farm with dear friends from our medieval world. Most of the time I was with them, chatting by the fire, cuddling baby chooks, geese, and goats, learning how to spin wool, cheering on the combatants and archers.

But now and then I’d take a break and stand up on the back veranda and just look out at them all and smile, new friends, old friends, people I know so well they’re like family, others I’m just getting acquainted with and think I’m going to like a lot.

I got a little teary thinking how lucky I am to have such people in my life, people who are kind and respectful, cheeky and hilarious, generous and helpful, crazy and fun, down-to-earth and beautifully human. They’re people I can trust because they tell the truth and couldn’t be bothered with pretense, people I respect because I see how they treat others with dignity and fair play, people I’m in awe of because they’re so talented and interesting.

Today it’s just me and Bear again, Fezzik snoozing on the living room floor, one eye open hoping I’ll give him part of my toasted ham and cheese sandwich.

I carry the memories of yesterday with me, grinning when I recall the kids feeding the geese armed with a big stick and a garbage can lid, the combatants trash-talking each other with the biggest smiles on their faces, the archers giving a little nod of satisfaction as their arrows thwacked into the target.

Those memories remind me to keep prioritizing the vital things, things that make life feel beautiful to me.

Like making Scandinavian-style pickles from beetroots I grew myself, rereading favourite books from my childhood, and attempting spinning, even though trying to pay attention to hands, wool, spindle, and treadle makes my brain frizzle. I’m finding pleasure in the process of doing things badly.

So, as I step back into my whirlwind today, I look for ways to make it beautiful: a cinnamon latte with creamy foam, a bike ride with Bear, and ham bean soup with hot, buttered toast.

What would make your whirlwind more beautiful today?

xo