Recalibrating

January has been strange; I've been sidelined by a virus that drained my energy, causing a horrible cough and cold. After a week off work—always challenging—I realise I feel guilty (why?). At such times, I am the worst patient, with no patience and a strong desire to get moving. Resting and slow days staring at the TV screen make my mind scream, "Don't waste time!". I felt so agitated that I had to do a beach walk by day four. It was so knackering as I had not recovered – so whilst the blast of cold air and the gentle walk was welcome, I was shattered when we returned.

In my journaling, I have explored “my being sick issue,” the need to move forward, and the unrelenting desire to make the most of my time. I explore the delicate balance between self-care and contentment, striving to find rest in the present (when unwell) while wanting to make the most of the future. Through writing, I gain a deeper understanding of myself and the world around me, uncovering insights that guide me. It's a practice that nurtures my soul, reminding me to cherish each day and embrace the possibilities that lie ahead.

Fog filled mornings.

My solace lies in my garden, a tranquil haven where the season's chill is softened by the warmth of life thriving within and lit by the late afternoon sun. The evergreen foliage provides a constant reminder of resilience, while delicate blossoms offer bursts of colour against the monochrome backdrop of mud, frost, and fog. The garden is my sanctuary, where my thoughts can wander freely, dreaming of spring's renewal and the promise of brighter days ahead.

So, too, to my delight, the ever-faithful birds flit from branch to branch, their cheerful songs weaving a melody of hope and joy. Each morning, they gather in the garden, their feathers puffed against the cold, creating a lively tableau that enlivens the quiet winter scene. Sparrows, nuthatches, woodpeckers, dunnocks, blue tits, great tits, long-tailed tits, chaffinches, bullfinches, siskins, robins, and others—all with their familiar tunes—remind me that even in the depths of winter, life persists with a tenacity that is both humbling and uplifting.

Their presence reminds me of the simple pleasures and beauty in everyday life's unnoticed details. As I watch them, I feel a deep connection to the rhythm of the seasons, a comforting cycle that assures me that warmth and growth will return.

I find my soul weary of promoting business, building up my writing circle (even though I love it), or even creating new social media reels—almost like I need to hibernate.

Perhaps it's the season encouraging me to pause and reflect, embrace a slower pace, and allow creativity to simmer quietly beneath the surface. The garden teaches me that there is beauty in rest and renewal, in allowing oneself the time to gather strength and inspiration for the vibrant seasons ahead. Just as the earth takes its time to prepare for spring, perhaps I, too, need this moment of stillness to nurture my own growth from within.

Of course, this takes me back to my earlier paragraph because slowing down and stopping is difficult. Something in my stoic life script that keeps me moving. It's as if I'm wired to constantly seek out the next task, the next challenge, without allowing myself the luxury of rest. Perhaps it's the fear of stagnation or falling behind, a whisper from the past urging me to keep pace with the world around me. That ‘drive’ has led to great achievements in the past, but increasingly, it needs some recalibration.

As my 60th Birthday in June edges closer, I'm finding myself in a reflective mood, contemplating the journey so far and the road ahead. As I approach this milestone, I'm considering how to channel that drive into new passions (write that book!) and pursuits that bring joy and fulfillment.

Here's to celebrating the years gone by and the exciting possibilities ahead.  With a recalibrated drive, how does one get that, I wonder?

I look forward to writing the next chapter of my life with enthusiasm and gratitude., rewriting a few of those life scripts that perhaps are no longer so relevant. Who's joining me?

 Always,