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Anyone who grew up in the country knows the wisdom of letting a field lay fallow. But if you didn’t grow up in the country you might think a fallow field has nothing much happening. The plot just sits. Wasted real estate. Like a quiet person who may not say much, it doesn’t mean nothing is going on under the surface. A field in fallow still receives rain and sun, may even be planted with a crop that is never harvested, but gets plowed under to help replenish the soil with nutrients. It is a time of restoration.
Humans have our fallow periods. If we are wise enough to not flog our impatient selves over the seeming lack of accomplishment, we can reap enormous benefits from a period of allowing our inner selves to replenish. Our life force comes bubbling to the surface again, renewed. In my experience this can happen over a period of weeks, months or even years. Thoughts and feelings weave in and out of our consciousness as an idea or skill develops into something more fully formed and ready to express itself. But it cannot be hurried. And in my case, it would seem, it cannot be directed. It takes as long as a piece of string, and it goes where I have not been before.
The curious thing is the ingredients that contribute to the end result. It is often very mysterious. It seems to have nothing to do with the final outcome, but contributes to the process the way subtle ingredients contribute to a delicious stew. Have you noticed the difference in flavour of a slow cooked stew that has bubbled on the stove all day long, versus one cooked by faster means?
A slow renewal would describe much of my previous year. Toward the end, only a few weeks ago while we were traveling in the Southwest of the United States, I began to realise the time was not so much a fallow period as a gestation. What has been birthed is a stronger, more energetic self with fresh thoughts, inspiration and appreciation. It feels like the look of drought ridden land, a week or so after a good rain. And the ‘entrapped nerve’ in my foot is nearly healed. It was taking the long, slower road, of exercise, stretching, rest and shockwave treatments that did the job. I opted to try this less invasive route, rather than the steroid injections. There were moments I doubted I would feel this good again, but I tried not to let this override my thoughts of recovery. An excellent and positive podiatrist and tenacity on my part have won the day. Through the months I finally gave myself over to the process and embraced quieter pursuits with a mind open to various possible outcomes.
You may think I had forgotten you. And writing. Some will have moved on and forgotten this little blog altogether. Understandable. From my end it is often counterproductive to try and confine these changes into some tidy little paragraphs of significance, when they are still busy forming themselves. Of course this process is ongoing, but once in a while it is intensive, as the last 10 months or so have been for me. It seemed better to wait for a time when things felt more fully formed to try and describe what had gone on.
There is no time like one’s birthday to reflect. So, last week on the first day of my 67th year (or is it the last day of my 66th year?) it was the light, the textures and the small everyday things that shone. I missed walking more than I had missed anything in a long time. Just walking. Taking the time to rehabilitate my mobility has not only taught me new things, it has reminded me to appreciate the Now, and the wee, small things.
As Mies van der Rohe said, God is in the detail. A light chaser knows this.
Ron said:
Welcome home Ardys and I’m so glad your doing better. As a fellow 67 years old with mobility issues, I can understand what a joy it must be to enjoy walking again. For me slowing down in my retirement years has been a big challenge. I so enjoy reading your posts and look forward to your next.
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Ardys said:
Thank you so much Ron. I had to slow down about 20 years ago when I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. I was also told that the fitter I was, the better I would be able to manage the condition. At the time I could barely walk around the block I was so achy and tired. But gradually I built myself up again (I was not unfit before the diagnosis). However, I discovered there is a plateau of fitness that I don’t seem able to get beyond and so that has necessitated a reality check between my energy levels and the things I want/need to do for many years. In some ways it has helped me transition into my sixties, but the foot pain had threatened even that level of fitness. I’m now building myself up again. And so it goes… best to you. A
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Eha said:
‘Tis most interesting to read and reread your post and the comments above. Being older than both of you unfortunately I have battled peripheral neuropathy in my legs for quite some years which does not allow me to do my beloved tango with elan either 🙂 ! Unfortunately perchance I totally lack the ability for natural ‘wait’ periods however much my mind tells me to be ‘sensible’ . . . am still laughing at the total frustration an older cousin showed way back: ‘Eha, why do you always have to do, why can’t you sometimes just be’ !!! I love being told ‘You should not do this’ and laugh back ‘Just watch and see’ . . . to each their own . . . just can’t play the ‘waiting game’ . . . oh Ardys, still love that triptych photo series and wish it was on my walls . . . . best . . .
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Ardys said:
You are not alone, Eha. Waiting and patience is not my first instinct but I’m nothing if not adaptable! I’m glad you like the triptych. I’m lucky to have captured it as I only have my phone to take photos, no telephoto lenses and the like! Thank you for reading and commenting.
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Fabio said:
Glad to visit your blog again, Ardiz! 🙂
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Ardys said:
So nice to hear from you again Fabio! Thank you for visiting.
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Fabio said:
Thanks so much! Take care! 🙂
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StillValerie said:
Dear Ardys:
I’m glad that you took the time to “lay fallow” – to rest, rejuvenate and restore – and to remind us to do the same.
It’s so nice to have you back blogging and sharing your beautiful photos and words.
Many blessings,
Valerie
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Ardys said:
As always Valerie, it is so good to hear from you. Thank you for your warm welcome back. Blessings to you, too.
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Ula Corsi said:
I don’t know if this will go through I’m having problems with my debit Brandon is coming over tomorrow and up word lunch so I have you look at it not been done outstanding love you enjoyed your visit bye-bye mom
Sent from Ula’s iPad
>
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Ardys said:
Thank you Mom! 💕
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Francesca said:
Glad to have you back on air, blog air that is. Like Eha, I have no patience for fallow periods. They call me the blue arse fly. At 69, I have a few conditions creeping up on me- asthma in winter being the most annoying- and a body that feels like a truck ran over it when in bed. when allowed a dose of steroidal help, I grab it happily.The business of the day seems to take my mind off things.
I love that mudlark triptych too.
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Ardys said:
Thank you Francesca. Aren’t we fortunate to live in times where have options! I hope the truck avoids you in future.
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Littlesundog said:
There is always a knowing and connection when I read your message, Ardys. Fallow fields were part of my young farm girl life, and I still do this with my gardens. In the US this is not practiced so much anymore, and I certainly don’t see it in the lives of folks. It is a push push world. At nearly 58 years old, I appreciate what I read from you about taking time to heal, and following ones inner spirit about how to move forth, or not. Even those who comment have pearls of wisdom to be noted. I am always happy to see that you have written, and I find nourishment in your writing. Your photographs always speak to this nature girl. It brings me happiness to know your treatments were successful, and that you are moving about better. xoxo
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Ardys said:
Thank you so much Lori. Yes, it is a push, push world. I heard the author of a non-fiction book speak yesterday about her own healing, and she said she saw a doctor and he told her when he sees a case where the symptoms (like hers) don’t make sense, it is always ‘stress’ related. We are swept along from the time we are young into other people’s schedules and expectations of us and we are not even aware of how it affects us. I hope the floods in Oklahoma did not include you! xx A
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Littlesundog said:
We have slight flooding in the orchard, and expect it to totally be under water by Wednesday. Every day we have more rain. But, nothing is damaged or hurt here. The orchard flooded about ten years ago and it didn’t seem to hurt the trees any at that time so we are hoping for the best. The slough is an amazing life source – it’s huge now and we have more ducks than ever! I saw a mama duck with about a dozen little ones behind her the other day.
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Kim Smith said:
So glad you’re feeling better and are back to writing, Ardys. This post resonated with me and helped me see my own situation in a new way. I’ve been in my own fallow period for a couple months, I think. I’ve felt so overcommitted and like there’s always somebody wanting something from me. Along with all that, I was bullied by a neighbor who scared me enough that I called 9-1-1 and got a new home security system. All of this has been emotionally draining. Over the past few weeks I’ve tried to withdraw from as many social commitments as I reasonably could, feeling the need to turn inward for a while and try to replenish my emotional energy.
Thanks for writing about your experience and helping me understand my own — and to not feel so alone. 🙂
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Ardys said:
This is music to my ears, Kim. It is the reason I started this blog over 7 years ago. Recently, I saw a post from an artist whose work I follow on Instagram, and he spoke of ‘fallow periods’ in regard to his work and that got me to thinking. Yes, this is normal, even for a successful artist and bravo to him for sharing it because I felt much the same as you describe for yourself. That sounds quite disturbing to have had a scare from a neighbour and I can understand how emotionally draining that would be. I hope you will feel better soon, but it takes as long as it takes, so don’t rush things. Saying ‘no’ was a revelation to me some years ago and I have learned that saying it with a smile tends to get the job done, minimises hurt feelings and keeps the overwhelming times to a lower level. Take care. xx
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daleleelife101.blog said:
I am so pleased to read of the recovery of your foot, and feelings of renewal, and your encouragement to consider the quiet productive benefits of fallow periods. Sometimes I get so busy I cannot think about the other parts of my life that are important to me… days, weeks pass in a blur of outwardly constructive, necessary activity. But at a cost to my what I call my soulitude. Such have passed several recent weeks. I know it will pass, then I will find, make some quiet time… I have learned such lessons but it’s reassuring to hear wise words from a trusted friend. Take care ♡
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Ardys said:
Thank you so much for your thoughtful comment, Dale. Apologies for taking so long to respond–the consequence of seeing your comment on my phone and then forgetting to respond via the computer. I like your term ‘soulitude’. It is so true, we buzz around in a frenetic pace and don’t realise the toll it actually takes on us until we hit the wall. You are correct, there are times when we have to speed up a bit, however, the key is to remember to balance it out later on. You take care as well. x
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Anita said:
Glad to learn about your recovery, Ardys! In this sped-up world, periods of rest and renewal are important more than ever, and it’s wonderful that you’re enjoying yours. Thank you for sharing your pictures – I loved the beautiful sights. (Belated birthday wishes, by the way.)
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Ardys said:
Thank you Anita. I’m so glad you enjoyed the photos. Grateful for the birthday wishes, too. 🙏🏼
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