Maybe I’ll grow tired of this kind of bliss, the gardening and writing. Perhaps a new seed will ask to be planted and my body will tell me about it. I might suddenly stop typing, craving to be filled up by colour, my hands dipped in paint, scrawling wildly on canvas. I might begin to go on long walks, or to read a lot, or surf.
After a day of wholeheartedly living; a day that has had enough spaces, a day where I’ve mostly done what I love, I’ve miraculously found time to complete the cleaning. I feel happy and calm when I greet my husband and kids at the end of the day.
After discovering what it is I must do for a small chapter of my life (for I often cannot see beyond the headlights), then comes the work of sifting and refining what is important and what can be discarded. I have the power to identify what exhausts me and what uplifts me. There are things that must be done, like washing up and cleaning. And then there are things that I can let go of, like shopping for too much stuff or going out on the weekends – things that my body does not love. After a day of wholeheartedly living; a day that has had enough spaces, a day where I’ve mostly done what I love, I’ve miraculously found time to complete the cleaning. I feel happy and calm when I greet my husband and kids at the end of the day.
I imagine a wholehearted life is a constant pattern of sifting, refining, planting new seeds, composting dead ideas and tasks. I believe it needs a degree of quietness and reflection – attributes that are not easy to come by in an anxious culture, but worth aiming for. If exhaustion is the hallmark of our frantic society, then wholeheartedness is surely our medicine.
Geordie Bull is a freelance copywriter and journalist who lives with her husband and two kids, Scarlett, 7, and Tanner, 4, in Crescent Head, NSW. When she’s not writing, Geordie loves magical mystery tours with her family, yoga, painting and surfing. You can view her work at geordiebull.com.au and contact her at hello@geordiebull.com.au.
