Books are for breakfast

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Books are for breakfast. I knew this at ten when I was told no tv in the morning by my dad. Now I’m an adult and I still savour pages (and pens to underline as I go). I juggle reading, porridge and tea until the last drop is drank. Screens of all kinds I leave until later. I must buy a watch so the alarm on my phone is not the first thing I see.

This morning my mind has been blown ever so casually over breakfast. The words I am reading are electric in my early a.m mind. Outside the noise of silence is delicious. Sometimes it’s my job to offer people silence and stillness so I soak in it daily so I get it; how lovely it can feel.

Book closed. Thoughts left with; who will I be at 43? If I have a baby I can’t wait to meet them. (although then I’m pretty sure there’ll be no books for breakfast). English words are ridiculously good.

Dish-washing, my mind floats backwards to my nephew’s voice on the phone yesterday. So bright, words untarnished by time on this earth. I hope the wisdom he arrived with grows and grows. I hope he can love himself enough to listen to it over everything else that he hears. 

Maybe one day I can remind him that he is awesome. Not because I tell him but because he can see me unapologetically experiencing this life as myself and loving myself as I do it.

I unwrap soap for a shower, brand new bar, I got to it first. Self-love is where it’s at, spread the word, it’s the place to be. I’m not quite there yet.

Shampoo. Self-love is the cornerstone of health if health were a house. Loving oneself equals excellent choices on your behalf above following the crowd, even if said crowd are your friends because everyone is on their own path and building their own unique home in their own sweet time.

Conditioner. Maybe my nephew’s generation will get it more quickly than me. We weren’t taught to tell ourselves ‘mate, I think your amazing. I see your potential and I can’t wait to see what’s next!’ We were taught to seek external validation through marks and grades and the opposite sex. Where was the class on self-love? Where were the tips and tools on listening to your intuition, the power of self-care and loving your body?

Soap. Rinse everything. Towel dry. Coconut oil everywhere. I hope it changes for him. I hope we take up the challenge. I hope I’m here to see things improve. I could write forever but I have to stop, get on with my day. Last drop drank. I can hear the silence, startlingly brilliant, like his voice and his wisdom and the stillness I feel in that class. It all helps me step back, see the wondrous way of this earth.