One of the words that best described our yurting life, at least in comparison to urban living, is ‘slow’.
When we set out in November for our last foray into slow, we developed our yurting mantra;
Don’t complain,
Don’t rush,
What happens, happens.
It takes a while for the mind to change, but Daylesford on the weekend is a great ‘brake’, misspelling intentional. As we meandered through the shops today I picked up a magazine simply called Slow. My favourite photo was a group friends sitting under a backyard tree with a spread of good food and wine. The log cabin was romantic in the general sense.
Slow is an art. The Judeo Christian idea of sabbath (the principle of 1 in 7 being ‘rest’) has much going for it. As with many things in life, good sabbath-ing has as much to do with what you chose to do as what you don’t do. Its not enough to stop working; it’s more to do with choosing the activities that regenerate our souls.
I remember a few years ago ‘labeling’ weekends. One was what I called an ‘Aero weekend’: its the bubbles of nothing that make it really something.