I rouse early, made soup, baked flourless bread and prepared raw protein bars. Brunch was alfresco in shorts and t-shirt while enjoying the fantastic weather. By impulse the scrubs ended up nicely trimmed and the pateo clean. While walking barefoot on the grass the urge to practice yoga arouse and the movements were fluid and soft, the body gently caressed by the sun rays.
On my return from the shop and with the Sunday newspaper in hand I sat on the grass with a freshly brewed coffee. I tend to start with the serious news and then move to culture and travel supplements to end in a good note. Some articles I only cross read to get an idea of the contents, others, I immerse myself fully into the writing. My heart stopped when I read that my favourite columnist had walked into the sea 5 days ago.
Sally Brampton has been the reason why I buy the Psychologies magazine every single month. ‘You buy a paper magazine, that’s so old fashion.’ My friends say.
I open the magazine with the same excitement as if it was a letter written to me and sent all the way by post in a pink envelope with heart stickers.
She wrote ‘Life is about connection and it is what we lose when we are in the shadows.’ The woman who helped us all (British & Irish) fight through the darkest days of the soul (depression) decided to leave us. She had been the one cheering us up and helping us understand ourselves and others. I felt like I knew Sally, I emailed her once telling her how impactful her words can be when one feels grey, and no, not the fifty shades kind. She was an inspiring and uplifting character that helped me deeply through the year’s way back to her column in the Sunday times newspaper.
I don’t believe in gurus as I prefer real people, the ones that reveal who they really are, with their flaws, insecurities and fears. Sally was one of these people, she wrote from the core of her own being. Her essence was one of a beautiful flower, no wonder she loved gardening.
"I had carried on when all I wanted was to be dead. I had stayed alive for other people. I never stayed alive for myself. I cannot begin to describe the intensity of that effort." Sally Brampton
I haven’t moved past the same page, it is still a beautiful day, just a little bit sadder. ©
On my return from the shop and with the Sunday newspaper in hand I sat on the grass with a freshly brewed coffee. I tend to start with the serious news and then move to culture and travel supplements to end in a good note. Some articles I only cross read to get an idea of the contents, others, I immerse myself fully into the writing. My heart stopped when I read that my favourite columnist had walked into the sea 5 days ago.
Sally Brampton has been the reason why I buy the Psychologies magazine every single month. ‘You buy a paper magazine, that’s so old fashion.’ My friends say.
I open the magazine with the same excitement as if it was a letter written to me and sent all the way by post in a pink envelope with heart stickers.
She wrote ‘Life is about connection and it is what we lose when we are in the shadows.’ The woman who helped us all (British & Irish) fight through the darkest days of the soul (depression) decided to leave us. She had been the one cheering us up and helping us understand ourselves and others. I felt like I knew Sally, I emailed her once telling her how impactful her words can be when one feels grey, and no, not the fifty shades kind. She was an inspiring and uplifting character that helped me deeply through the year’s way back to her column in the Sunday times newspaper.
I don’t believe in gurus as I prefer real people, the ones that reveal who they really are, with their flaws, insecurities and fears. Sally was one of these people, she wrote from the core of her own being. Her essence was one of a beautiful flower, no wonder she loved gardening.
"I had carried on when all I wanted was to be dead. I had stayed alive for other people. I never stayed alive for myself. I cannot begin to describe the intensity of that effort." Sally Brampton
I haven’t moved past the same page, it is still a beautiful day, just a little bit sadder. ©
Picture from Sally's site http://sallybrampton.co.uk/category/sanity/page/2/
