Rhi Axtell – Writer

I’m currently working through The Art of Stopping Time by Pedram Shojai. It’s a book structured in one hundred days’ worth of mindfulness prompts and reflections.

This is what came out of day three.

Today, I’m outside.

I’m lucky. The sunshine seems to have come out just in time.

The first whispers of Spring have turned into a soft chorus. It takes the form of bird song, the laughter and chatter of people outside in the park, and the rustle of the wind through the new leaves sprouting on the trees.

There is a bird which sits in a tree near my apartment and sings in the morning. It’s not the violent squawk of a seagull, or the croaking rattle of a magpie. It is a gentle, lilting twitter of a song, and I really enjoy it. I haven’t managed to identify the bird yet, but maybe it doesn’t matter. I am happy it is there.

I know it’s not a skylark, but the thought of a bird singing in the morning always reminds me of them. It also reminds me of The Lark Ascending, a piece of classical music composed by Vaughan Williams. It was a favourite of my granddad. He loved it so much that it was played at his funeral. That was the first time I heard it.

You can listen to a version of The Lark Ascending shared by the BBC here:

Shojai describes nature as our ultimate teacher. Today, it’s teaching me the value of taking a breath and feeling the sun on my face. I sat down on a bench in Bute Park in central Cardiff and allowed myself to… stop for a moment. It felt nice.

I think I realised how much my mind has been spinning lately, trying to solve issues, trying to find answers, trying and trying and trying.

I had my final assessment for my level 3 counselling studies yesterday. I had to present a client case to a supervision group. That, I realise now, has been taking up a lot of space in my mind.

The weekend was rough, too, with a health crisis in my family causing a lot of stress and panic.

Before that, another assessment, before that something else – it has felt a little non-stop.

By sitting in the sun, I could let them go, one by one. Loosen my grip.

A lot of people have told me about the importance of wintering. Almost like hibernation, I suppose, over the colder, greyer months. I don’t think I got to do that, apart from the brief time I was stuck in bed with the flu. I’m not sure many of us do nowadays.

But with the arrival of Spring, maybe I can slow down, watch the flowers grow, and appreciate everything that is around me. That would be nice.

One thing is for sure – I need to get outside more.