a measure of slow

Nature, poetic, silent, balmy, the bright moon,

the calm, silvery sea spoke of beauty and of rest...

~ from The Scarlet Pimpernel, by Baroness Orczy

Last evening I sat on the upstairs porch with a stack of my recent journals, flipping through to find old nuggets of wisdom, pages of quotes, descriptions of travels, the lists of books I was reading, the odd feather taped in ~ seeing how I used to think and feel and how some of it had changed; though some is the same. (my to-do lists are curiously similar) Often I find little events I had forgotten, and my past seems more streamlined; more concise and deliberate and concentrated seen through the filtered pages of my journals.

I've been so busy lately I'm finding it difficult to pause, to slow. It seems foreign to me, like there's a shortage of time for that. Kind of ironic, I know. I am very much looking forward to my trip to Portland and Seattle next week. Some stone-collecting on the beaches, some road tripping through the forests, a little chilly camping and then the company of a community of like-minded women will put me to rights. This quote is applicable to me right now:

...no man can hope to be completely free who lingers

within reach of familiar habits and urgencies.*

I am looking forward to a change of scene. A little adventure, a shift of perspective.

Last night I sat in the backyard watching a few flickering stars above pink acid-washed clouds in an indigo sky ~ the moon shimmered in the heat from the chiminea, a pale cutout moon dim and then bright behind the drifting clouds. I found a measure of slow, a piece of peace in my mental busy-ness.

What things are helpful for you to do when your very-much-liked way of living-your-days loses a little of its luster ~ seems a little lacking in energy?

* US Admiral Richard Byrd, who spent a winter alone in the

Antarctic, from A Book of Silence, by Sara Maitland