Sunday. The chill in the room nips at my feet as I groggily open my eyes, listening to the damp swoosh of cars as they drive by on the wet road. The lack of humidity in the room, thanks to the radiators, makes my eyes feel like they’ve been for a swim in the Kalahari. Rubbing the arid balls that giveth sight, I slip out of bed and into my warm, soft dressing gown. Padding through the house quietly on my toes, I make myself a coffee and climb back into bed, opening up The Sunday Times for a weekly catch up.
These are the simple pleasures of my life. No screaming kids, no pressing responsibilities, just myself, a cup of coffee and Scrivener. I would not trade the calm and serenity of my current life for anything. It’s been my lifelong dream, to become a professional hermit crab, live in a semi-rural area, spend my days typing my deep ruminations, and have a partnership that supports this fantasy. I am lucky, and I am very grateful for it.
This has not come without sacrifice or loss. Good fortune did not just stumble upon my path: I took to the wilderness armed with nothing more than bravery and wit to find it. Recognising an opportunity is as important to the process as the opportunity itself, and having the courage to leap off the cliff side, not knowing what truly lies below, is essential.
The stillness and serenity permit the work that I do, and without it, the work will not exist. In order for my brain to find meaning and order from worldly chaos and mental chatter, deep sleep, meditation and a stark lack of screaming kids seems to do the trick. Parenthood has not been in my cards, and I am happy as long as I can live my life to its absolute fullest. It would be rude not to, and such a waste.
The lingering aroma of coffee slowly dissipates from my immediate atmosphere as a sensory reminder to refill my mug. It’s 11am. Perhaps I should get started with today… or maybe today will be confined to the silence and serenity of this room, for no responsibilities, of any genuine weight, await me.