I’m sat on Peckham Rye, writing the content for my new website. Eeking the words out from my brain that have been stirring and whirring for months if not years.
We’re in that beautiful hover state between summer and autumn where the sun still breathes warm air over us, summer dresses float around the ankles and green leaves are caramelising on the trees already laden with conquers and seeds.
It’s a moment of pause between the intensity of each season, where space feels lengthened and stretched out. We’re enjoying the last of its fruits, preserving what we’d like to sustain us and anticipating the next season to come.
It’s exactly the time to be incubating and developing something new. As the trees withdraw and press every final ounce of energy they possess into their seeds.
Despite the fact that we’ve actually had little rain, the trees still solid, with their roots lush and deep and their canopy’s reaching only as wide as their roots have grown.
And I wonder at all this and what it is teaching me. How far will I reach for the water, how hard with I push to grow the tender systems of nourishment that sustain me, to bring forth this hopeful dream I have?
I surrender to this ancient wisdom that has sustained life unassumingly in the background to my existence. Unacknowledged, continually throwing its bounty to the breeze and the soil, like a farmer scattering seed for her chickens scratching around in the dirt, each tree, vibrating with potential, desperate to grow a forest.
So it will be, that we too, connect in, receive revelation and produce an outcome that we grow. How deep will we push down our roots and how surrendered is our embrace to the sun?
