Up the creek without a paddle…

Not to sound too much like Ross from Friends, but I recently bought an air purifier. And not to sound twice my age, but it's really only because it had a great review in the Which? magazine. It's probably what you would describe as an impulse buy: not to sound too middle-class, but it was on sale in John Lewis. 

Anyway, I unpacked this thing, slightly reminiscent of a shrunken, cleaner Dalek. The instructions told me I should hoover the filter every four weeks. Okay, that's fine. I folded up the large box and added it to my recycling pile. 

Mark and I bought a kayak. This was less of an impulse buy as we'd been thinking about it for a while and found one in clearance in Tesco - £99! So, we (Mark) lugged the thing home. The reviews were great apart from complaints about the oars, so we figured we would see what they're like and then maybe get some new ones if we need to.

Then, I placed an order with Pets at Home for Barney's life jacket - two sizes, mind, because he's often somewhere between a small and a medium (he's got a lot of fur). 

I know this sounds like a rather inane run-down of the plight of the everyday human (albeit, slightly excessive everyday human), but let's just take a moment to reflect:

I went to the shops and I bought…one large air purifier, one large kayak, two dog-size life jackets and…? 

Here's my to-do list: 

  • take the recycling out (big box getting in the way)

  • find somewhere to store the kayak (but if I take the fire pit out of the boot where will that go?)

  • buy some new oars?

  • pick up Barney's life jacket

  • return one of Barney's life jacket

  • hoover new air purifier filter (to be done every four weeks)

I feel like Mrs Armitage on Wheels*, that fantastic Quentin Blake tale about a rather eccentric lady who keeps adding things to her bike: “What this bike really needs is…” To be fair, she ends up with a fantastic all-singing, all-dancing bike fitted with: an umbrella, a basket for the dog, a toolbox for repairs, a snackbox, a radio and a mouth-organ. She finally adds a sail “for a bit of extra oomph” and they fly down the hill: dog, bike and old/odd lady until they land with a Crash! Crunch! Clang! Clatter! Thud! The book ends with Mrs Armitage looking down at the wreckage: “What this bike really needs…is taking to the dump!”

I'm aware, of course, of the privilege of owning all these things and the fact that we'll make some great memories with the three of us on the kayak, just like we did taking the fire pit when we went camping. I also think the air purifier will help with my dust allergy when we enter the winter months (don't worry, I'm cringing too). I'm not saying these things are good or bad, but just bringing awareness to the fact that we are often in the business of the busyness of life… 

The more we buy, the more times we have to schlepp to the delivery office.

The more we buy, the more we have to return.

The more we buy, the more we'll end up trying to sell.

The more we sell, the more trips we have to make to the post office. 

The more things we have, the more things we have to maintain:

The car, the hoover, the bike. 

Is this avoidable? Is it problematic? Is this just life? 

I don't have all the answers. For some people and some times in our lives, the answers will be yes, and for others and other times, the answers will be no. 

If you're feeling stressed, what is your part to play in it all? Are you adding to the complications of life by constantly adding in? 

As one of life's ‘initial enthusiasts’ (a fantastic term coined by my lovely friend Vix, meaning those of us who jump up and down saying yes without really thinking it through first and then promptly experience plummeting levels of enthusiasm) I do this a lot: adding in, adding in, adding in. But in the words of the wonderful home organiser, Dilly Carter, “before you buy it, ask yourself if you really have the space for it”. I.e. don't buy 18 tubes of toothpaste from Costco if you live in a one-bedroom flat with minimal storage.  

I believe Mrs Armitage is one of life's initial enthusiasts. She and her dog, Brakespear, are having a wonderful time of it before the wind in the sails gets a little too much for them all. But she was enthusiastic! And optimistic! Her can-do attitude, I'm sure, got her far! But perhaps, as with all things in life, she just needed to find a little balance.  

Mindful moment: If you find yourself hurtling downhill, it's not too late to gently apply the brakes. The great thing is we are in control of how we choose to spend our time and money, and who we choose to spend it with. Life will have its little pushes and pulls; its times for saving and times for splurging - and that's great; that's the beauty of this one wild and unpredictable life. But if things are feeling too much, don't panic. Just take a moment to put a few things down, gently engage the brakes, and take some time to notice what is important to you. Very few things in life are permanent or un-doable if we need to change course. By taking some time to take stock, we might just be able to achieve the balance required to keep on pedalling (or paddling, as the case may be).

(P.S. I hope you're as excited as I am about the Barney-on-a-boat upcoming content…that makes up for the fact I have nowhere to store a kayak, right?!)

*If you don't know it, it's a fantastic children's book. There's a man reading it here on YouTube if you're curious.

 

Have we met?

Welcome to the Community.

I'm Laura, a yoga teacher and NHS doctor. With this weekly newsletter I aim to help you incorporate mindful moments into your week. I want you to feel inspired, empowered and creative. I promise to always be authentic; to only include content that speaks to me and which, therefore, I hope will do the same for you.

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Thank you for being here. Without you, it’s just me talking to myself…

Laura x

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The worm that turned