It’s very easy to become consumed with negativity. Wars, disease, poverty, the list is as old as time and ever present in various forms. There are pressures, both put upon us and self inflicted on what constitutes success, leaving us with a feeling of failure or lack of hope. But the reverse can be true.
To be hopeful and optimistic is not to ignore the present, indeed is not even an “easy” option but is to see the joy and possibility.
Be it the smile on a child’s face.
The cat lying in the one sunny spot in the house.
The birds with overly optimistic ideas on what is a suitable stick for a nest, but they still try.
The buds on shrubs and flowers heralding the impending and inevitable arrival of spring and warm sunny days.
A cup of tea in bed brought by a loving partner.
The sound of a concert stadium, the unified joy of all the participants.
The poppies of Flanders Fields.
The welcoming hands of strangers in Poland, Romania, Moldova and Hungry.
Around all these things may be challenges (indeed the worst challenges we can imagine) but to be hopeful and optimistic is not a simple choice, nor a naive choice but an active and often challenging choice. It means being able to see potential solutions to challenges. It means being the “supportive arm” to those who are burdened. It means changing the narrative from “half empty” to “half full”. It is to believe that things can ultimately be better.
The winter sun provides not only bright clear skies but pockets of warmth within the garden. In these microclimates the resident plants are starting to dip their toes into the promise of spring, with buds swelling and even early flowers appearing. The garden is reawakening with the promise of the warmer months to come. This is a risky strategy particularly for the early fruit blossoms on the cherry plums. Last year the dice did not roll in their favour with ice and snow coinciding with the full floral glory and a subsequent absence of summer fruit. The apples, however, with their slightly slower start to the spring hit every optimum weather condition and the humans and wildlife are still enjoying the remains of the fruit bounty that ensued.
Snowdrops – galanthus nivalis
Today as I marvel at the first crocus buds, delight in the
snowdrops and generally start to get my itchy feet to be back with the soil, I
too feel like it is a new awakening. Over the last couple of years to borrow Rhett
Butler’s well-worn phrase – I couldn’t give a damn. In actual fact I didn’t
have the energy or interest to do anything, but the garden in particular seemed
to overwhelm me. Instead of offering a relaxation or respite from the strain of
a highly demanding job, squeezing time in to “do stuff” was just something else
I had to cram into my week.
Last October on a boat between Rhodes and Lindos, with
nothing to do but look at the beautiful scenery I finally allowed myself to
admit I just couldn’t do it all anymore, I was exhausted, totally and utterly exhausted
and I wanted everything to stop, I needed to stop and take a step back and
regain me. I initially planned to resign, indeed I did resign, but my company
asked for the opportunity to find an alternative solution which is how I now find
myself in the very fortunate position of working part-time from home.
That said it has been hard, as someone so used to just doing stuff and wanting to make sure projects are supported, having to say no has been a big part of my learning curve over the last few months. Part of my problem was that I always try to find a way to accommodate people. Looking back all that happens is you end up always being the one who rearranges everything and people just expect it, not meaning to but valuing your time less. It has not just been a learning curve for me but also my colleagues when they realise that I really do only work 2.5 days a week and that accommodating me has been replaced by pragmatic but firm me.
What is important is also changing, its not that I am not
ambitious that is just part of who I am, but how I channel those ambitions is
changing. To be honest if I had really cared significantly about titles and
kudos there were many different paths I could have chosen for my career but the
reality is my toes are happy in the Kentish soil and I have routinely resisted
any attempts to lure me to more senior roles that would have required
substantive relocation.
So, for the first time in a long while I find myself planning and plotting for my garden. The plants that did not survive last years weather extremes are now opportunities not something that needed to be dealt with (which given they are still dead in the garden, I didn’t deal with because I couldn’t previously be bothered). There are the beginnings of plans to extend the veg patch and to get a small greenhouse (it had never seemed right before but now, now I have time and will actually use it). A happy afternoon was spent with the cat at my feet as I pruned the roses, taking my time, enjoying the winter warmth. So as the garden reawakens after its winter sleep, this year I am reawakening too.
Looking onto the Marshes 