When I first moved from Leeds to South Milford in 2019 I didn’t find it easy to walk from home to South Milford Station. And back. Now, I do.
I attribute this to the daily walks I have with Lydia. We don’t do much in the way of gradients, but what we do, we do every day. And it seems to work. Now, I find it a very easy walk to South Milford Station and back, made much easier I think by the very lovely evening I’ve enjoyed with a friend in Leeds.
Then again, I couldn’t have had that evening without the train service that took me there and back again. Pretty amazing, and then some.
When I wake this morning I hear the sound of rain, and my thoughts go to the reminder that has come through the Buddhist teachings: welcome wholeheartedly whatever. I also think of RARE: recognise, address, reduce and eliminate delusional thoughts.
I’ve always liked the sound and feel of rain and generally been an all-weather girl, providing I’ve been wrapped up to face the elements or under cover to relish being cosy and dry. I have loved this long summer though, with the warm and sunny weather that we’ve had and thought I would miss it more than I am doing.
After a cup of tea, a recitation of the meditation prayers to myself (I don’t feel up to chanting them out loud at the moment, not when I’m on my own, anyway), and a meditation followed by the Liberating Prayer*, Lydia and I get ready to go out.
It’s a later start than usual, still damp outside and as we start our walk there is some very fine rain. Not enough to make me wish I’d worn a hood or anywhere near enough to persuade Lydia to wear her raincoat. She really doesn’t like to wear a raincoat and I only persist in getting her to wear one if it is particularly cold and icy. Today it is still warm and the rain holds off as we walk.
It’s quiet, with only a dog walker who I regularly see passing by in her van. I wave, Lydia starts to lunge, I ask her to sit, and she does. What a clever girl. She is doing so well.
Back home, after putting her bag of ‘poopie’ in the bin, I wash my hands and give Lydia her breakfast in her food ball. Before I have my breakfast, I put some dry washing away and put some more in the machine. It’s good to keep on top of housework and doing a bit at a time works for me. I’m not a domestic goddess but I do like a clean house, even if it’s not clean all over all the time. I do it on a sort of rota basis as I concentrate on other priorities. There’s a part of me that wishes I could be motivated to go round the house with a duster every day but I’m not.
Lydia tries to get me to give her some more food but I resist. I do, however, take a bag of cooked chicken pieces out of the freezer, to give her as a surprise treat later when they’re defrosted. For now, she’s lying just a couple of yards away, watching me type and looking very relaxed.
It’s just the two of us at the moment as Trev’s away visiting places in the UK that I don’t want to visit. It’s Corfe Castle for him today. For me it’s the Buddhist class tonight.
Quite where I would be if I hadn’t had access to these teachings, I don’t know, except that I think I do, and it wouldn’t be a good place. Thankfully, I am in a good place and I’ll keep working at it to keep it that way.
My thoughts turn to a friend who introduced me to Buddhism many years ago. He’s not in a good place at the moment so I hold him in my thoughts for a while and hope that he soon is.
Lydia is very calm on our walk this morning; much calmer than she’s been on a walk for a very long time. It’s lovely just to amble along with her, stop when she sniffs at and forages blackberries, feel no need to do much other than just walk along with my dog beside me. I tell her what a lovely dog she is and let her know how much I’m enjoying my walk with her.
I also thank her when we get back to the car. I want her to feel appreciated. She is.
The sense of mellowness and calm continues throughout the day.
I visit a friend in the village. We also go for a walk together, and we thank each other to show our appreciation of each other’s company. It’s a lovely thing, to enjoy the company of another; nothing to prove; just a sense of being together, being alive and being there for each other, even if it’s just for that day.
As I write, Lydia is enjoying being outside on a day which is warmish with a soothing breeze.
I’m enjoying being inside, with the door open.
A lingering sadness remains and always will, but the nagging, aching grief has gone, as each day brings something new, or not new. It doesn’t matter. Each day just brings.
No such thing
There’s no such thing As an ordinary day Each day awakens In its own way
Some days it rains Some days it’s sunny Some days are serious And nothing seems funny
There’s no so thing As an ordinary day Each day is different In its own way
Some days are lonely Some days are glad Some days are joyful Others are sad
There’s no such thing As an ordinary day Each day unfolds In its own way
Some days are busy Others are slow Some days it’s hard To know which way to go
There’s no such thing As an ordinary day Each one just passes In its own way
***
And when the day Is done and gone We sleep Until another day That isn’t ordinary Comes along
Glad About 
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