I’ve been pondering... anguishing: What am I going to do? I haven’t worked for nearly a year. My lover has left me for some passing fancy. I’m alone on the other side of the world far from my friends and the infrastructure of my life. My resources are limited. Oh no! What is to become of me?
And I have been praying... meditating: Let... go... let... God... let... love...But I can’t see the path forward. I am lost in a fog of pain and confusion.
It is high tide. I am swimming in the lovely old Vockler’s Baths at Watson’s Bay. Vockler’s is a harbour pool enclosed by concrete arches with a boardwalk running around the top. From here there is an uninterrupted view across Sydney harbour to the city skyline and the Harbour Bridge. The sun is shining. The water is warm. I slip into a lazy backstroke and after a few moments my mind empties. Let... go... let... god... let... love... let... go... let... god... let... love... stroking back and forth across the water. And then, a voice in my head speaks clearly: “Lily. Sell your flat in London and move to Sydney.”
Ha! It’s that simple.
2 comments:
You're at loose end and just missing the stimulation of your everyday old life in London. Don't sell the flat." If you're tired of London you're tired of life" -- isn't that the saying.
You're missing those smartly dressed gals on the tube and walking up Regent St and the bustle of the Portobello markets. No one dresses like the London girls -- except maybe the stylish girls in Paris. Now there's style.
I'm fancying a snack in one of those cafes up towards the Ladbroke Grove end.
That sounded very freeing to me Lily. You're hugely massively brave to let the minds chatter go and find what's beneath...
interestng how embracing the physical world (movement of our bods or the natural environment)can lead us in.
Anyway not so much competition in Sydney-youre stylin' woman!
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