It began as a lovely waft of yellow and pink water colour across the page this morning.

Then came pigment sticks over the top – I was meditating on feeling breath in my hands.

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I left for work disatisfied, itching to get out yellow paint and see what textures and colours emerged when I smothered this chalky surface.

Home again tonight, I mixed yellow paint in various shades and painted over the top.

Then came the knife moving across the surface, bringing up those blues and reds underneath.

Suddenly, I spotted a roobios teabag on my desk. I tore it open and scattered.

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“Reading the tealeaves” is what came to mind. I remembered this morning, nursing a worry about whether my daughter would be safe going to a particular place today, or what my own working day would hold. I remembered a conversation with a friend in the office, hearing her humanly familiar wrestle with “what if I make the wrong decision”. Another conversation with a colleague about choosing schools, and the pain of telling ourselves there’s a “right” decision to be made. This pain of the Unknown, of craning to try to see the future, seems especially intense when we’re making it for our children.

It can be hard for me to shake the feeling that someone holds the crystal ball. That someone knows what move I should make.

This painting feels joyfully compassionate for the pain of not knowing the future. And, looking at the colours emerging from underneath, I’m reminded that the day turned out fine. They do that. And when they don’t, there’s love and self-compassion to cradle you.

Yes, my darling, it’s understandable. You wish you could foresee all pain and avoid it. You long to protect your children from suffering.

Here’s deep compassion for your moments of apprehension. And an invitation to enjoy this moment, now. Does the history of all your days so far suggest you can face “The Future” with optimistic curiousity? The Future. I’m in it already. We all are. It’s this moment. And this one. And this one.

Now, savouring a cup of roobios tea, being with me. Here. Now. Warmth flowing down into my belly. Eyes getting sleepy. Oh, and here’s Joy the cat, coming in for some company. Hmmmm, what does she see in those tea leaves …? 🙂

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Hey, I think Joy knows a secret to being with moments of intense anxiety …image

… Settle back, take a bath, do something gentle that moves you towards peace and rest and care for yourself in this moment. That’s your future being shaped, now.