Words by Louise Carleton
The soul craves simplicity.
You might think it longs for the sort of adventure that makes your heart beat quick, that tosses you in the choppy currents of unknown seas to finally fling you panting, gasping for breath, onto unexplored beaches; but real joy is found in the slow, rhythmic turn of the everyday.
It’s the first cup of tea in the morning; pouring the milk in opaque streams, watching it disperse and melt into the liquid, anticipating that first sip as your mind and body slowly come to life.
It’s climbing into the bed you’re always pleased to see; the solid frame silently taking your weight, sometimes your tears, cocooning you in blankets, shielding you protectively from the world.
It’s a warm bath after a hard day; the water buoying your aching limbs, submerging your skin so you can emerge afterwards cleansed, a bit pinker, the unseen heaviness that nestled between joints washed away.
Sometimes it’s waking up early; ready to start the day whilst everyone around you still sleeps in sacred hush; you and the universe alone together in the predawn light as you plan your day.
It is flowers bought for no reason; surprising you each time you walk into a room, the petals slowly unfurling, revealing their beauty to you bit by bit, until they scatter in pretty patterns on the window sill, or the floor.
It is the sun’s first warm rays on skin that has spent a winter swaddled in jumpers, cardigans, jackets and coats. The heat lingering on your skin long after the sun has set.
It’s two souls connecting, greeting one another like old friends with a comforting ease that spans eternity.
It’s skin on skin, warm hands entwined in darkness, nostalgia for a memory that hasn’t happened yet.
It’s realising, one grey uneventful Tuesday morning, that the beauty of the universe is already inside you, at your fingertips, and deep within your beating heart.