Today is our second day at the Peak District. It has also been littered with magic of the softer kind. My time of the moon started today so everything is slow and fuzzy around the edges.
We visited the Mill I spoke about yesterday. The one the sat nav was desperate to get us to. It was lovely to walk the steps I once took with mum. It feels both new and familiar. A lot of it I can’t remember and flashes return every now and again. It’s like walking in a waking dream. I feel her near.
There was another Mill called Cauldwells that she also used to take me to. It has art workshops and a vegetarian cafe. We visited there for lunch. The tables had been moved. I remembered her sat by the window when she was too ill to walk. I’d looked back at her, as I often did, concerned about leaving her alone as I explored, but it was what she wanted. She enjoyed watching me live and she didn’t want to be left at home. As I walked towards the workshop today, I turned back to gaze at the cafe. This time there was no mum, no table, but in my heart I could still see her there, superimposed over this moment. I was in two worlds at once. There she was with her cappuccino. I smiled. Thank god for snap shot memories. We never know the moments we will cherish for life. Sometimes they are very ordinary at the time.
As I entered the first workshop I found myself telling the owner that I’d love a workshop space myself and have done for a long time. It’s true but I’ve never heard myself acknowledge this. Art has meant a lot to me for decades. At times it was my air, the only thing that kept me going. Anytime I hit rock bottom mum would always take me to a craft space knowing I would come back to life mysteriously. Even I didn’t understand it. Beauty has always helped my heart to keep beating, even as a child. Beauty and nature.
The owner was lovely. She told me stories and made us laugh, gasp and relate to why she was there. I wondered if one day I would be in her shoes, creating and sharing in a way that made utter sense to me.
The gift shop was as incredible as I’d remembered. Everything we bought was beautiful, gentle, creative. Mugs without handles (always my fav), a sketchbook for me, a dandelion clock cup that is so small it’d only suit me (I love small), a candle for bath and garden time here, a sugar pot and organic cardamon chocolate, a book on how to make your own cleaning products naturally, very simply and beautifully. This book brought me pure awe. I just want to live closer to the earth and in simple harmony.
Back at the cafe we ordered a turmeric latte and a beetroot one for Ady. My god they were good. Lunch was divine, aided by a stranger who felt to tell me, on her way out, that the soup was the best she’s had in a long time. It really was. Dairy free and topped with pea sprouts. I was seriously impressed. The photo shows me in my time of the month stupor. Zoned out but content to just be a human slug. Ady is clearly livelier in his food heaven.
I sat reading a book that I found here on my first day. It’s about love, angels and how to stay open in a difficult world. I bought it because the talking book we were listening to enroute to the Peaks was mentioning the authors name, Kevin Hart, and that he should stay true to his name. This authors name was also Hart and she shared her first name with me. As I opened the book randomly I felt like I was being nudged in the direction of learning how to stay open no matter how much loving can hurt sometimes. We wouldn’t grieve if we didn’t love. Would we fear or get jealous or insecure? Our adoration of others and things leads to these painful emotions. Sometimes it’s just easier to close down. This isn’t how I want to live and it ends up breaking you energetically.
This is our little cottage. The nest where I’m typing from right now. Hot water bottle across my menstrual tummy and chocolate to hand. Music playing gently and Ady reading his book on the simple life. A book we are both reading at different rates. The tv is so far untouched and will probably stay that way. We haven’t had a telly for years and it’s not something we miss at all. I always shudder at people living in beautiful homes with beautiful views and all they do in their spare time is stare at a screen. They seem to be missing out on so much life.
Last night I cooked veg from our allotment. We ate it in the front garden, watching the world go by. A Radox bath and then time to blog took me through to bedtime where I slept like a mouse in a nest. So much for waking up early and doing my ayurvedic routine. I just about managed to wobble down the stairs. I think the body knows when it’s ok to switch off. Mine certainly has and it feels like the best place for me as I enjoy living without work, cats, allotment or any responsibilities beyond eating and following the whims of the day. It feels like we are enfolded.