Hello, lovely readers. We’re back! And how exciting to be in a whole new year, a chance to revisit the highlights of ‘24 and plot an unchartered course for ‘25.
You know, there was a time when January found me jotting resolutions. A time when I left behind a paper constellation of dreams and intentions, a blueprint for the year ahead. Not so this year. Instead, I found myself listening to a deeper rhythm, one that no longer requires the familiar structure of those scribes. I’m easing into a whole new way of being, a rhythm. I call it my ‘rince, rejuvenate, regenerate, repeat’
Having now embedded itself in my psyche, the results of my rituals are already quite impressive. Angst replaced with calm, the small stuff no longer sweated, my barn full of fucks now saved for seriously deserving situations. ‘It’s ok, it will all work out’, my new mantra. Even when this blog returned a ‘fatal error’ message, which would typically result in a ‘Kevin’ from Home Alone, I calmly jumped on Fiverr, found a WordPress superhuman, and within 24 hours, prob solved. Ahhh!
Not to say there won’t be times when I may be provoked enough to want to poke someone in the eye, but hey! It’s a bloody marvellous start. So, what does this ritual entail?
Awakening to my inbuilt alarm, I’m already smiling at our puppa’s joy as I don sneakers and sunscreen, clip on her brace, and head out for a 30 min puppy pee-mail stroll. Then, up to the rooftop gym for a quick 30-minute workout, cossie change, sauna chat with the silver fox, and a couple of laps in the pool with just enough time to dry while indulging in a little five senses* ritual. By 8 am I’m positively vibrating with energy when I hit the desk. Night rituals wrap up with the odd lazy Yin Yoga sesh, notes in the gratitude journal, an electronics curfew and a snuggle and chat with the fox before drifting into slumberland. Repeat.
Inspiration from my boss’s own ‘rinse, repeat’ ritual – gym, ocean dip, walk the dog with coffee in hand, desk. Whatever the facilities at your fingertips, I know you’ll have your own. If not, perhaps I’ve inspired you.
Shall we return to see how this is working out after the silver fox and I embark on our first overseas trip together? Airports and train stations always a portent for a complete purge of my mental fuck barn. When screaming matches and mini meltdowns supersede calm. When thoughts of throwing a culprit, whoever they are, under a bus for some mild aberration. It can get ugly. August. Britain. Five months. Might the psychological benefits my little ritual be the game changer that keeps us out of the divorce courts?
Love to hear about your little rituals! Drop your thoughts in the comments section.
With love
J
