Sunday, 14 February 2016
Sunday morning and the city is slowly waking. Apart from a light breeze that strokes the branches overhead, everything is still.
Steam swirls up and out of my yellow mug. It sits next to my red smoothie. And I’m looking out into the world.
The daffodils that I placed in the vase a couple of days ago are beginning to open up.
It’s Valentine’s Day.
As I stretch myself awake, the puppy comes hurtling through the door like a flash of black lightning. Within a second she is all over me, tail wagging furiously. And so we play. She tries to lick my face and nibble my hand. I tickle her. It ends with her on her back for a belly rub. I watch her close her eyes and get lost in the joy. I chuckle. She loves me, there’s no doubt.
As we snuggle up, I begin to think about love and its many different forms. There is the love that we have for our animal buddies and the love that we get from our family; The supporting love of friends and the all-consuming love of a partner.
And then there’s everything else in-between.
Whether it be the deepening bond of a relationship, or a random act of kindness towards a stranger, love changes the world. It is everything.
But the most important love is the one we have for ourselves. And when that love is unconditional, we become limitless.
Monday, 8 February 2016
As I walk along the beach, the sound of lapping waves and soaring seagulls surrounds me. A salty wind picks up and tickles my ears. The sand is soft and golden. I turn my head to look back and see a set of footprints glistening in the sun. They follow me faithfully.
Making my way up the slope towards the cliff top, the bright afternoon light is invigorating.
And as I reach the highest point, I stop walking and look out across a glimmering sea. Boats bob gently on the surface and become part of the horizon. Just before the dirt track that runs alongside the edge, something catches my eye – a sign:
I don’t know if it is the picture of the falling man, or the words, but I am suddenly aware of the wet earth beneath my feet. I push away a thought of landing flat on my face and continue on. Mud begins to clog the soles of my shoes. I slow my pace.
And when I eventually reach the ditch that spans across my path, I begin to think about fear and how it can stop us from moving forward. What if we fall again, what if we fail?
But there is only now. Just this single moment.
And so, under a cloudy sky, my feet lift off the ground and I leap across the muddy void.
Sometimes in life, we slip. Whether it be from a banana skin, a break-up, or a bad day, there will always be things that pop up, causing us to lose our balance. But for every fall, there is a get-back-up. And for every dust-yourself-down, there’s space for something new. Something wonderful. Something beautiful.