My favourite hour of the day is early morning, before the rest of the house awakens, sitting beside our French doors looking out into the garden as the sun rises, with a pot of tea.

There’s something sacred about tea brewed in a pot and drunk from a beautiful cup.

I like to take a moment to pause, to look at the garden, appreciating my roses at whatever stage of growth they’re in and feeling the warm sunshine on my face.  It’s often sunny first thing – today is no exception.

But this morning brought extra delight in the form of several little birds.

Last year my husband fixed a bird box to the wall – the birds took no notice.  We wondered if we’d put it in the wrong place, that it was too close to the window and us scary humans.

But this morning I sat and watched three little blue tits checking it out.  Looking inside, wondering whether it would be a suitable, safe place to build a nest.

At first, they just poked their little heads inside as I looked on wondering if they dared venture in.

Then I watched as one tiny little blue tit hopped inside –spent a few moments there before it came out and flew off.  It then returned a minute later and hopped in again.

I don’t know whether it will choose our bird box to next – I hope it does, I’m excited to find out – but I’m not attached to any outcome.

For me this morning it was a great reminder of trust, patience and divine timing.

The bird box had been sat in our house on a messy shelf for several years.  It was untreated wood and we didn’t want to put it out in case is went rotten.  At the same time, we didn’t want to treat it in case the paint was bad for the birds.  So, because we were unsure, we did nothing.

Last year my husband decided it was time to put it up just as it was – if it went rotten, it went rotten, it was not serving anyone sat on a shelf (ah what rich teachings are in that sentence alone).

A year on (maybe more) and the birds are taking an interest.

For a few moments I watched in awe and utter delight at the three beautiful little birds checking it out.  They warmed my heart and soul.  Maybe it’s warming yours as you read my words.

And in those few moments I learnt something golden.

For much of my life, I lived through the lens of “what’s the point”?

  • What’s the point of cleaning the house, it will only get messy again?
  • What’s the point of weeding, they only grow back?
  • What’s the point of writing if no-one reads my words?

We live in a world where the norm is always to strive for something, where everything is a means to an end, where we’re constantly looking to the future when …­­­“this crisis will be over”, when … “our business will be successful”, when …“we retire” – whatever our future version of “better” or “more” is.

In doing so we miss out on all those magical moments that are happening all around us.

The blue tits have now gone – who knows if they’ll be back.  But whether they return or not – I can delight in those few minutes that warmed my heart.  Those moments where I imagined the freedom of flight and how awesome it must be to hop from branch to branch.

Instead of looking at the rose beds thinking “I must weed them”, or at the rose bushes thinking “I must prune them”, or the trampoline and thinking “it spoils the view”; I looked in appreciation at the freshly mown grass and remember the torrential rain of a few years ago and my daughter squealing in delight bouncing on the trampoline.

I was present with the morning, writing to you.  Not what I intended sharing, nor what I had planned, but honouring what my heart was witnessing.

It feels so differing simply being with me and my writing, and sharing what I see instead of my usual struggle, wondering whether my writing’s appropriate, whether you’ll like it, whether it will move my business forward.  Let’s face it – who cares about a couple of blue tits choosing a nest?  Birds are everywhere – they’re nothing special.

But they’re special to me.

And they’re special to everyone who feels a connection with nature.

I feel so much love and joy as I witness them going about their day.

And that’s what I was moved to share today – how I feel in the simplicity of everyday life.

I don’t believe we have a choice in how we feel.

Nor do I believe our thoughts create our feelings.

I believe it’s the other way around.

I believe we feel, and then attach meaning to how we feel.

Once we strip away all attachment, meaning and judgement to our feelings, then we simply experience life.

Life is rich, life is sad, it is beautiful, poignant, delightful, heart breaking, painful, warming, nourishing.

I could fill this page – who knows maybe I could fill a whole book with descriptions of feelings.

Indeed, when we let go of attaching meaning to feelings, we realise we feel a whole lot more than we can describe.  So often there are no words to how we feel.

Feeling and being is enough.

That is the point of life.

I would love for every human on this planet to experience being.

To let go of the voices in our head, to let go of attachment to how we believe life should be, to let go our wounds and simply experience the beauty of being alive

Life is magical when we simply live it.