Shine Sunday.

Today is the last day of my two-week summer holiday. It's been great to have a decent break from the office but, in truth, I haven't had much of a holiday. I took on two big editing projects, which were amazing, and I did a lot of work towards setting up my editing business. But still, it wasn't a holiday.

My problem is that I have trouble relaxing these days. There's always something that needs doing - and it's always me that has to do it {at least, that's how I see it}. It doesn't help that 2016 promises to be one of my busiest years yet, with a day job to hold down, study to do, and a business to launch.

Anyway, all this got me thinking ... what would it be like to have one day a week in which I allow myself to do whatever I want? One day to sleep in, read a book, walk on the beach, work in the garden? It sounds very appealing!

So I'm starting today. I'm going to try and make every Sunday "Shine Sunday" - my day to relax. It won't always be possible. Next Sunday I have to work; and there may be some Sundays where I choose to work on a project with a tight deadline. But I have promised myself Sundays will be free of housework, study, and business work.

So what's my plan for today? Once I've finished this, I'm going to take the dogs {Monty and Lisa's dog Harry} to the beach for a walk, since it is a glorious day. I'm going to paint my toenails. I'll read some more of this book. I'll write in my journal. This evening I'll watch football on television with my husband. And have an early night, since I have to be at work tomorrow.

What's your favourite way to relax?

Anne-Marie x

2016: Joy

It's the new moon today, and I have finally decided on my word for the year: JOY.

I have to say this word took me by surprise. When I think of 2016 and what I hope it will hold, I think of the short but amazing list of goals I want to achieve. For me, 2016 will be about a lot of hard work. It will be about getting things done.

I see JOY as a healthy balance to my goals. What's the point of achieving my goals this year if, in the process, I become a miserable, uptight shrew? {Some days I feel like I'm already half-way there...}

I know JOY will not always be an easy word for me. When it's winter, and it's raining, and I've trudged to work and trudged home to do more work, and I've had a disagreement with my husband, and the house is a mess ... on those days, JOY will probably be the last thing on my mind.

But I believe there is always something to be joyful about in my day. It might be as simple as taking the time to write in my journal, or my dog's enthusiastic greeting when I arrive home from work. {I love it how happy dogs are to see you, every single time!} I also believe that the more I use my "joy muscle" the easier it will be to find JOY in my life.

At New Year I started a practice of recording my everyday joys. Every evening before bed I take a small piece of paper and write on it at least one thing that has given me joy that day. Then I date it, fold it up, and put it in a special jar. At the end of the year I'll be able to open the jar and read about all the JOY I experienced in 2016.

So here's to 2016: a year of hard work, of stopping to smell the roses, of relaxing, of laughing, of enJOYing the good things in life.

Anne-Marie x

PS. Find out more about word of the year - and choose your own word - here.

Just like the trees.

I'm writing this beside a roaring fire, with a certain happy dog stretched out on his sheepskin rug before it. Outside, heavy thundery showers keep passing over; it's dark, and it's cold. I'm feeling very grateful for all this cosy warmth.

It's a bleak time of year here in New Zealand. I find it hard going to work when it's still dark, and coming home after sunset. I even have to do most of my hooping inside at this time of the year.

A friend and I were walking our dogs at Kowhai Park last week, on one of those rare fine, windless, winter days. I confided to him that I often feel depressed at this time of the year, no matter how positive I am or how mild the weather is.

"I feel stripped bare," I said.

I didn't really understand my own words, but as we walked on I watched clouds of dead oak and liquid ambar leaves drift down to rest on the grass below. Some trees were only just starting to shed their leaves while others were nearly bare. I love the trees that fully lose their leaves in winter. They may appear to be naked and lifeless but they have a certain majesty about them. Without its covering of leaves, you can see a tree as it really is.

Maybe I am like the deciduous trees in winter. My leaves have been stripped from me, leaving only my bare branches. In winter, I see things - I see myself - as I truly am. Which is not always a comfortable thing.

I like this analogy.

The next day during my morning devotions I picked up Caitlin Matthews' wonderful, wise book, The Celtic Spirit {which I recommend to any Pagan with an interest in the Celtic world}, and the reading for that day contained the following paragraph:

"At this time of the year, when the trees look dishevelled, when growth stops, we may feel the loss as a personal thing and cross the threshold to depression. Yet the roots of renewal lie in the contemplation of the way in which this year's leaf mould on the forest floor will become the rich earth for next year's glorious growth."

I still long for warm sunshine and long days. Yet I feel I've been given a different perspective on winter: without the cold, the dark, the depression, the being stripped bare, we cannot experience the growth of spring.

Weekend, alone.

Last weekend my husband and my stepdaughter went away for two days, leaving me along at home with only my wee doggie, Monty, for company.

When I first realised I would be alone all weekend, the thought scared me. I used to be so good at being alone, and was quite comfortable spending an entire week in my own company. But since I got married I’ve become used to having other people around at [nearly] all times. What would I do with a weekend to myself?

But as Friday rolled around, and I got ready to head home from work to a silent house, I realised I was looking forward to it. Here was an opportunity to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, without needing to take other people into consideration.

So this is what I did with my weekend alone:

I spent most of Saturday on the back lawn, in my pyjamas, hooping. [Pyjamas are good for hooping in, by the way.]

I stayed up till 3am Saturday morning watching all eight episodes of Outlander [sigh] and till 3am Sunday reading The Bronze Horseman [meh].

I ate Thai takeaways. I visited friends.

I did some spring cleaning.

The sun shone all weekend, so Monty and I went to the beach. He followed interesting smells all over the beach, and I paddled in the water and hooped.

Such a simple weekend, yet such a delight. I felt reacquainted with myself. I felt refreshed - like I'd drunk a glass of cool water on a hot summer's day.

And, of course, when my people arrived home Sunday afternoon, I was very happy to see them again.

Happy hooping,
Anne-Marie x