The afternoon sunlight warms the room, drawing me in like a cat to the rays it casts on the quilt. The quilt made thirty years ago by my great-grandmother. It's edges worn from many childhood afternoon naps, but still in tact.
Oh if this quilt could talk, the stories it would tell from the kitchen it was created in, to the hands that stitched it, to the little girl it kept warm and to the studio it now sits in. Watching. Bringing warmth. Love and care.
It's during these afternoons in the studio when I should be creating, cleaning up a mess, writing, that I instead find myself sitting with it, listening , trying to hear whispers of wisdom. After all, ancient stories sing from all creations. Instead I speak to it. Telling it stories. Today is the story of self care.
Self care during the end of a quiet, reflective season meeting a season of rebirth and renewal that comes with an abundance of energy. As beautiful as spring is, the early days can be abrupt and an anxiety inducing transition.
Today, self care comes in the form of flannel pajama bottoms, a well worn cashmere sweater, an extra cup of savory tea, cuddles with a furry friend - his paws resting on my lap, a much needed
book, a gentle walk, organizing packets of seeds and soup simmering on the stove.
Self care is giving yourself what you need the most, what soothes the soul, the mind, the heart and gives it the strength and quiet courage to lean into the day and grow from a place of love.
