Standing still

What I've learned in six years of staying put

The world is changing, I am changing, my life is changing, and yet I seem to be standing still. For the first time in my life it really feels as if I am the one standing still while things change around me. Previously I was always in the thick of it - changing jobs, countries, careers and following my curiosity around the world and down the various rabbit holes of life. Standing still was never my modus operandi.

But here I am in a small half-timbered cottage, the ‘guardian’s cottage’, between patches of woodland and meadows that are sometimes full of cows and sometimes full of wildflowers. I’m in France, something else that I didn’t see coming, in the land of apple orchards, cheese and cider. I’ve been here almost six years which means I’ve seen five springs in this quiet, gentle countryside.

Six years is three years longer than my previous record and a lot longer than many short-term contracts or seasonal work I’ve done. In many ways the pandemic is to thank for the fact I’m still here, as is Brexit and the need to be in one place to secure residency rights. Neither of which felt good at the time, but have surprisingly been the two things that have forced my hand and made me stand still. And even though I never realised it, standing still was just what I needed.

'Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.' - Ferris Bueller

If you’ve seen the film, no doubt you’ll know the quote. It’s ironic that shortly after watching the film for the first time my life took on the fast pace of exams and student life and then adulthood in the nineties. Now, almost four decades later I find myself coming back to it as I realise how important it is to stop and stand still for a while, to allow everything to fall into place and create substance and solidity instead of anxiety and longing.

The turning of the seasons means that I am constantly learning. I’m learning about the plants and nature around me, about the birds and animals that visit and live here and about the changing climate and how that plays out on this patch of land I currently call home. I’ve learned that the blackthorn always flowers first, closely followed by the wild plum and cherry. I’ve learned that the heron nests somewhere along the stream at this time of year, that you can sometimes see kingfishers early in the morning and that the pregnant coypu likes to lounge in the pond in the company of ducks and moorhens. I’ve also learned that the barn owl hunts at dusk, flying low across the fields, while the tawny owls hide in the woods calling to each other as darkness falls.

I’ve learned how to delouse a chicken and help a struggling cow give birth. I’ve learned how the animals talk to each other from sociable comforting sounds to warning cries of predators or distress. I know what will grow in the garden and what will not survive. I’ve learned to name each wildflower and herb, whether they are edible and what their uses are in teas or tinctures. I’ve gently helped the plants to self-seed and encouraged pollinators into the garden. I’ve left out water for the leveret and rewilded patches of ground to provide shade and shelter.

I’ve learned about myself and the changes my body is going through. I’ve allowed myself time and space to embrace what this means and who I am becoming as I move forward. I’ve explored my past and given myself permission to rest and reset and I’ve learned about grief and how it is not something that we ‘get over’ but rather something that becomes a part of our story and who we now are. I’ve learned that I know a lot but I also know nothing at all. I’ve learned to revisit my childish curiosity about everything.

I’ve learned that in all my searching it turns out that nature is the biggest teacher of all and one that was there all along. Nature has taught me how to come home to myself and learn how to be with myself, who I was, who I am now and who I hope to become. We are all changing, the world is changing, but learning to stand still has helped me to grow inside and nurture the things that are important to me through observing the world around me.

Until next time……

Elizabeth x

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