I spent the last four years living in Wales bemoaning the fact that the garden was a jungle. Complaining that I never heard the birds singing and longing for a flower laden retreat.
I enjoyed being woken by the baahing of sheep and mooing cows, was mesmerised daily by the red kites soaring on the thermals and relished my daily trips to the forest. Despite what I had I focused on what I missed, what I didn’t have and thus looked for perfection elsewhere.
Fast forward to this morning and I am sitting in a sun drenched conservatory, watching birds frolic in the trees, bathe in the pond and feast at the feeder laden with coconut shells, nuts , seeds and fatballs. Sipping Earl Grey tea from a china mug, nibbling home made soda bread and marmalade, reading a novel and cuddling Mr Moose
Sounds perfect right? I didn’t think so until I became distracted momentarily from my latest offering from the Wivenhoe station bookshelf .
I had been sitting determined to luxuriate in the brief time I have to make use of a conservatory (a long held dream) despite being irritated by the constant drone and occasional zoom of lorries, cars and motorbikes on the A road upon which the garden sides onto.
Suddenly the noise stops, the birdsong rings out, a tractor trundles past in the fields behind the house, I notice Max’s gentle breath as he snoozes beside me and briefly my world is perfect.
Sitting on a plot with a very busy A road to one side, (traffic is heavy, at times relentless,) and on the other side, endless fields (perfect countryside) this is a house of contrasts. A perfect metaphor for life. Occasionally, just occasionally the traffic stops. Almost as if somebody has pointed a remote control at the world and pressed the standby button, and the silence is almost as deafening as the droning of traffic. When the noise stopped this morning, so did I. I went on standby. Sitting quietly hearing the silence broken by the birdsong and I listened to my heart.
That 5 brief minutes break in the droning of traffic taught me that Life isn’t perfect but moments can be. Shifting expectations and living in each moment can give me my perfect life if only in small pockets of time. So many people don’t have the pleasures that I have.
Soon I will leave this place. I want to feel as privelaged to have lived here when I leave as I did on the day I arrived filled with anticipation and wonder.
How do you find perfection in your day?