It was cloudy and dark today with the finest of sprinkles falling now and then, just enough to make a little puff in the dust and fill the air with that lovely scent of damp earth. We are hoping for rain, proper rain, a farmer’s rain, but we’ll give thanks for even the tiniest drop that cleans the air.

Bear and I are celebrating today for the last of my blood tests came through and my doctor excitedly announced that they are clear and I am officially in recovery. I am deeply grateful. I’ve been very ill since December, but the past 6 weeks have been particularly heinous. I’m feeling quite emotional tonight with the hope of being able to breathe easily on my own, to move without agony, and have the energy I need to do things I love with people who mean the world to me.

Recovery will be slow for my dear, battered body has been through hell, but it will happen through patience, love, and much gentleness.

fennel flowers

Last week I could barely move without assistance, couldn’t breathe unless I was on all fours, couldn’t function without pain killers. This week I’m walking and bending unaided, able to work without mind-numbing migraines, and I finally have my voice back.

I must continue resting a lot so I don’t relapse, but I’ve been able to start going for short walks and I’m pottering in my beloved gardens again, watering unruly beds of lemongrass, burdock, motherwort, comfrey, and elderflower. I love being out there listening to the cold winds in the gum trees and watching our local fairy-wrens and double-bar finches flitting and swooping through the misty spray of the drip hoses.

When I get tired I sit with Bear and our dogs in the warm Autumn sunshine and rest. We watch the goats and sheep grazing in the paddock, listen to the geese as they splash in their pond, and check out the trees to see which wild birds we can spot. Our lives have become so quiet and peaceful since my illness, and we can feel the good of it in our very bones. Gentleness has been our guiding light, leading us into a tranquil cadence of living that we treasure.

Burdock

Our routine is simple: sleep as much as possible, eat healthy things, drink lots of water, rest, and, when I have energy, make a little progress at something.

I’m normally a bit of a whirling dervish with eight projects on the go at once, my brain whirring constantly to stay on top of everything. This past year showed me that this isn’t a character trait but a coping mechanism, a detrimental habit developed in an old life that made me believe my worth was in working non-stop and accomplishing as much as possible.

I didn’t know how to break this habit until a chance conversation with Bear when I heard him say, “make a little progress.” Not finish a project or achieve a goal or cross something off the to-do list, but simply make a little progress.

His words meant nothing to him, he didn’t even remember saying them, but to me, they were a revelation, a light to guide me out of a lifetime of being a workaholic. The change in how I engage with life and work has been astounding to me. Instead of thinking, “I need to do All These Things today,” I ask myself, “How can I make a little progress today.” My ever-active brain has quieted and calmed, my anxiety has shrunk, and I’m actually able to really enjoy and focus on what I’m doing. What a gift. I’m so glad I’m never too old to learn new things and move into greater freedom and peace.

raindrops on fennel

Now it’s time for bed. Time to wind the cuckoo clock, take my medicine, and climb under warm covers to read a bit before sleep. xo