Slow time.

exploring the depth and fullness beneath the surface of linear, calendar time.

“Gradually, you will return to yourself,
Having learned a new respect for your heart
And the joy that dwells far within slow time”.

John O’Donohue

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Hello everyone

How are you finding August so far? Have you managed to take a pause?

Hopefully my intention to take my time this month will be helped along by my trip to France (we leave tomorrow!). Since childhood I have felt my body meld into the warmth, beauty and familiarity of the place and its naturally unhurried pace. Of course, this is likely to unfold quite differently with two little ones in tow but I hope to access the gentle rays of repose somewhere along the way. In honour of this, I will take a pause from writing my weekly letter next week and look forward to filling you in on our return…

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‘Slow time’.

I love the words at the beginning of this post by poet and philosopher John O’Donohue from his poem, ‘For One Who is Exhausted, a blessing’. These words were imparted to me, rather appropriately, in my early days of mothering via a beautiful online meditation practice with my teacher Bridget Luff. The words ‘slow time’ felt like an exhale — it was a balm to become aware of another, deeper, slower quality of time beneath the surface speed of calendar time which can feel impossible to grasp, like grains of sand slipping through an egg timer.

The light through our front door.

Taking my time.

My relationship with time has always been complicated. Since birth, I have not been one to be rushed, arriving earth-side three weeks after my due date; I have always liked to take my time.

I read History at university, the study of past events within the context of a vast yet linear chronological timeline. Then after graduating, I moved from studying the past, into the fast-paced world of PR where I worked up to six months into the future in order to meet print deadlines — often strategising for Christmas when the sun was at its highest in the sky; or dreaming up ideas for outdoor entertaining against a backdrop of late winter snowfall.

In my late twenties, I also became consumed by ‘wellness’, an interest and good intention that became a rigorous exercise regime, and had me rushing all over the city, pushing my body to its limits. It left me depleted and disconnected, forgetting how to feel and unable to inhabit the present moment (a story for another day…!)

Taking a moment in our entrance hall.

Reframing time as the mother of presence.

O’Donohue suggests that “if you take time not as calendar product but as actually the parent or mother of presence, then you see that, in the world of spirit, time behaves differently”.

I like this notion of taking a different approach towards time; seeing it imbued with a fullness of experience and the potentiality of presence — where we can be still enough to connect inwards, as well as notice the beauty in the little things around us.