Sometimes I read magazines and I find myself looking at the people in them and thinking: I would love that life. Or I watch movies and a scene will grab me and I'll think: phwah, so romantic, imagine if my life looked like that.
But then sometimes, I'll actually catch a glimpse of the cool, relaxed beauty of my own world.
I was riding home with My Lovely One from a movie a couple of Mondays ago. The film had been brilliant: tough and raw and fragile all at once. [Love.] But riding home it was dark and cold and windy.
Now, my lovely man is a great rider and he is super fit and on a good day I am fit too. But when it's icy and my belly is rumbling and I'm riding into what would surely be meteorologically classified as a gale...then not so much.
So there were were: pedalling along. My little legs pushing as hard as they possibly could [which was turning out to be not very fast at all] when very quietly, a strong, gentle hand came from behind and helped me push all the way home.
It is easy to compare, to look at all the ways in which your own life does not reflect the glossy, airbrushed, selected images in print and on screen. It is more of a challenge to witness your own real, sparkling moments. To honour and celebrate them. To invite more in.
