School of Movement Medicine - Mindfulness in Motion
 

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Issue: October Newsletter
Tempo

By Hannah Mackay
Here is a beautiful and touching poem ... Enjoy!

Trying to remember to resource myself and take care of myself,
I take my drum into the garden.
Remembering to resource myself and take care of myself,
I take my drum into the garden.
Resourcing and taking care of myself,
I take my drum into the garden.
Resourcing, caring, drumming in the garden.

The tempo of humanity and the tempo of the web of life are diverging.
When Doris Lessing wrote The Golden Notebook she received hundreds of letters
and invited Margaret Drabble to lunch.
I write a facebook post and expect likes within the day, or preferably the hour,
a quick flit readership – tomorrow those words will have all but disappeared.

It was humid yesterday, and blowy;
grey moisture, the remnants of Hurricane Dorian,
that great powerhouse spinning and surging across the ocean,
picking up water and merging it with air.
A week ago it was battering the Bahamas,
tearing down houses, picking up cars and floating them out to sea,
leaving islanders without a refuge, clinging somehow
if they could, to buildings and to life.
As this mighty force of nature blew its way around the world,
in the tempo of humanity there was time for
an emergency response,
after a delay that was inevitable, or unforgiveable,
a mass leaving of islands on planes and ships,
a call for disaster relief, stupid tweets from Trump,
those tweets satirised on the BBC,
a mounting death toll and the beginnings of grief to start to flow.

How can I straddle these two maps of time?
Resourced and caring, to operate at a natural pace
and continue to engage, right hand swiping and resting on a screen,
left hand holding the drum, the frame vibrating against my cheek.

It’s dewy in the mornings.
Apples start to fall in August.
A Painted Lady butterfly year comes roughly once a decade.
This crisis has been building for a couple of hundred years.
And there’s the billion-year unfolding,
continuity and fracture, deep time connectivity of life.

I sit until I smell the honeysuckle,
drum against my chest,
rooks calling, insects passing, September
sun rising above the hedge.

Hannah Mackay, September 2019

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The views expressed here do not necessarily represent the views of the School of Movement Medicine. Roland Wilkinson, Nappers Crossing, Staverton, Devon TQ9 6PD, UK Tel & Fax +44 (0)1803 762255 http://www. schoolofmovementmedicine.com