Welcome to a cold November afternoon.
The frost is still hanging onto the puddles and the crunchy,
Crisp leaves are flitting around the floor.
I want you to make yourself comfortable,
Maybe sitting or lying,
Eyes open or closed,
Whatever is comfortable for you.
And now,
Now I want to take you on a short journey,
A short journey just for this time of the year,
A journey I know well and one that you can share.
Imagine you are walking with me,
Enjoying the outdoors,
Nature's treasure as it heads towards winter,
That final time of the year when everything goes to sleep.
Taking in deep breaths the icy fresh air,
You feel it cleansing your lungs and sweeping away physical and mental cobwebs that no longer serve you,
They have no purpose.
And as you inhale,
It feels as if every nerve in your body came alive all at once,
A wonderful refreshing reset as you let go.
Finding your own breath,
One that feels good to you.
Imagine that rhythm as if we are walking in step along the grass tracks.
Maybe you notice the hedges are full of hawthorn berries,
Remaining rosehip hauls and the slowly drying seed heads browning into their winter patterns.
As you notice and look,
There's this Robin sitting on the fence post,
Watching our every move,
A friendly companion keeping us safe as we travel further.
We come out into the field,
The leaves have all but disappeared apart from the leftover sycamore and beech leaves edging the pathway,
Like worries that are no longer needed.
They too will decompose and return to the soil.
Always recycling.
As you look out,
You notice the field is a greyish blue colour,
Pieces of flint and stone emerging areas and underfoot it's sticky and damp,
Stippled with luminous green winter barley shoots.
The promise and hope of future harvest yet to be enjoyed.
Shielding your eyes from the afternoon sun you look up,
Up towards the sharp calls that alert you.
Above,
Three buzzards are circling round and round and round.
As you watch,
Gracefully they swirl around again,
Carefree looking down on everything.
Neither you,
Me or the buzzards have anywhere to be at this moment.
So we stand,
Calm,
Connected,
Just enjoying that feeling of being at one.
And when you are ready,
You make our way back to the field.
Our friend the robin is still watching from the fence.
The wind slowly starts to build as we walk further,
The grass edges ripple,
Spent bramble and thickets shudder,
Like a nod that that moment and stillness can be enjoyed any time,
But it is now time that we get back.
We wander along,
Taking those breaths as we did at the start,
That cool air reaching our lungs,
Releasing any tension.
And with thanks to the outdoors,
The robin,
The buzzards,
The hedgerow and the field,
We return,
We return to the now,
Grounded,
Calm,
Relaxed and ready to face the rest of our day.
