filling the well, smelling the roses

Intoxicatingly fragrant bourbon roses from my garden, in a Blossomware tumbler from Terra Home. Taken last year on Summer Solstice.

It's a holiday today here in Canada, our May long weekend, actually Victoria Day, but usually just called "the maylong." I like that, the idea of stretching and having time to sink deeper into my favourite, luscious month of May. 

Right now I have several critical deadlines looming, a long list of personal projects I've committed to, and several tile orders waiting patiently for me to glaze them. But I opted to take the whole three day weekend off. It's part of my new strategy of self-care. Weekends off.

Sticking to this resolution has been difficult in ways I had not expected. They say you teach people how to treat you, and apparently I have spent the last several years teaching people that I am constantly available, by answering business e-mails on weekend evenings, scheduling meetings for Saturdays, committing to ridiculously short deadlines and a bunch of other things I did primarily to prove to people how worthy and hard working I was. Do you ever do this?

"Sure, I can finish that for you on Sunday evening" is likely to be received with  a big smile and a compliment about how hard-working you are. I know this from long experience. Telling people "No, I won't be finishing that for you til Tuesday. Weekends are my sacred self-care time" is, I am learning, likely to get a less than enthusiastic response.

But I am forging ahead. Hoping to be a good example. I mean, the idea of a sacred day every week for self and family, rest and gratitude, isn't actually a new idea.


I do love to be busy and engaged. I love my work, and I love to create and accomplish things. And as much as I strive to be connected to the cyclical nature of life, and respect natural rhythms, I still get caught up in the idea that I don't need down time, dormant time, do-nothing time, or rest. Or worse - that if I am not producing or accomplishing, I am wasting time. 


How many times do I need to learn this lesson?


We live on four acres on a rural island, so our water comes from our very own well. The characteristics and status of one's  well is a common topic of conversation on the island, especially in the summer. "How's your well?" Some wells are shallow, others are deep. Some water has lots of sulfer, some has iron. One characteristic all wells share is that they will occasionally run dry. Some run out frequently, just from doing one too many loads of laundry. Others will only run out at the height of the dry season, or if you accidentally leave the hose on.

So if your well runs dry, there's nothing for it but to wait. Eventually, the groundwater (that great magical clean underground reservoir of glacial run off, flowing through dark caverns, even under the sea to get to us, just imagine!) eventually, the groundwater restores the well. This may take two hours or two days, and there is nothing to do but wait.

Sometimes the well runs dry and people keep trying to use the water. You know what happens then?  The pump burns out. Right? Then not only do you have to wait for the well to restore, you have to call someone to come repair your poor burned out pump.

I would love to visit this amazing cavern in Mexico!

Right at this moment, I feel dangerously close to burning out the pump. But I'm not going to let it happen this time. Learning, like everything else, is cyclical, and this time around, I've gained just a bit more wisdom about how to keep my balance, and when and how to give time for the great mysterious infinite  reservoir, the groundwater of our lives, to restore me.

Now, I am off to do nothing in particular for the rest of this glorious day.

And you? How will you tap the reservoir?