It’s been three-quarters of a year since my first article for Slowist about my ‘Waratah and Others’ piano and photography project. It has been an interesting nine months in many ways. I’ve made intermittent progress with the project, interspersed with various challenges, both personal and structural. Like most things in life, it hasn’t gone exactly to plan, but there have been silver linings, personal discoveries, and interesting side-tracks along the way.
Cycling the longest straight line in Britain on a folding bike, on wiggly paths, slowly.
The Great Lockdown of 2020 inspired chorister & pianist Louisa Billeter to undertake an epic piano project, recording a piano piece every day for a year and sharing the results each day on social media. This stunning effort led to a new project… combining Louisa’s interests of piano, photography and native Australian plants.
In this article we will learn of the path that led Louisa to ‘Waratah and others’ and look forward to an ongoing series of articles to accompany her on the journey as it unfolds, at its own perfect pace.
The third and final piece in this series of mindful poems from Debbie Lewis – ‘Stop’.
As a child, I roamed a landscape I realise now I very much took for granted. Nestled in a village on the Kent/Sussex border, we had little money but an immense amount of physical freedom; fields and forests stretched for miles, and the uniquely invigorating breathlessness found in the wind atop the crumbling cliffs of Birling Gap was only a short drive away.
The second in a series of three mindful poems from Debbie Lewis. More of the wonderful observation that we saw in ‘Down by the water’.
It was the early days of March and the UK had yet to go into lockdown as the coronavirus pandemic loomed ever larger.
This was the era of panic buying and supermarket shelves being stripped bare of goods including hand sanitiser and dried pasta. The streets of Manchester were tinged with a sense of impending doom, but no-one was quite sure what was coming…
We love this poem by new Slowist author Debbie Lewis, perfectly capturing the zen-like simple observations of nature’s calm. It is the essence of being present and mindful, noting in wonder the things that are always around, but seldom recognised for their pure beauty.
Walking in the heart of the Pyrenees, our ascent started into the mountain range. Bursting with enthusiasm to explore and a drive to keep up with the others I pushed on uphill. Suddenly I felt a severe pain in my knee. How could this happen on the very first day of a planned five week long walk? I was not willing to give up walking with the others so easily.
Thoughts from a walk to the station in the morning, through wooded lanes. This is really ‘everyday’ mindfulness, as focus is not on a podcast or music, but what is going on around oneself, the sights, sounds, smells…