What do you do when life feels too much? When your mind is full. When your heart feels heavy. When you’ve had another difficult conversation. When the worry won’t leave you alone. Over the years, I’ve discovered something surprisingly simple. I step outside. Not neccesarliy for an hour. Not for a long walk. Sometimes just for sixty seconds.
When I’m working from home, I’ll often step away from my computer for a minute or two. Not for a long walk. Not because I’ve finished everything on my to-do list. Just for a moment. I wander into the garden. I stretch. Sometime a dance a little. I always lift my face towards the sun. I notice the breeze. I smell the flowers. Sometimes I simply watch a bee moving from flower to flower. Then I go back inside.
It isn’t because stepping outside changes my circumstances. It’s because, for a moment, it changes my perspective. Those tiny micro-moments don’t solve my problems. They don’t make difficult conversations disappear. They don’t change someone else’s addiction. But they change something in me.
They remind me that there is a world beyond the one inside my head.
When I look up at the sky, listen to the wind moving through the trees or watch the flowers gently swaying in the breeze, something shifts. Life feels bigger than today’s worries. The problem is still there. But it no longer feels like the whole world. And I find that incredibly comforting.
Nature has a wonderful way of putting life back into perspective. The trees don’t ask me to hurry. The sea doesn’t expect me to have all the answers. The birds don’t mind whether my to-do list is finished.
Nature asks nothing of me.
It simply invites me to be part of something much bigger. And perhaps that’s why it feels so restorative. It’s not an escape from life. It’s a gentle reminder that life is still here, unfolding all around us. Even when our minds are busy. Even when our hearts are hurting. Even when things feel uncertain.
This month we’ve been exploring Grounding & Rest: Finding Your Way Back to Being.
I’ve come to realise that finding our way back doesn’t always require an hour of meditation or a walk through the countryside. Sometimes it begins with sixty seconds in the garden. A breath of fresh air. The warmth of the sun on your face. The scent of a rose.The sound of birdsong.
Small moments. Ordinary moments. Moments that gently remind us we are part of something much bigger than our worries. Those moments may seem insignificant. I’ve discovered they aren’t.
They are quietly teaching my nervous system that there is more to life than threat. More to notice. More to experience. More to love.
And little by little, they are helping me find my way back to being.
Your Self-Care Invitation This Week
This week, when life feels too much, give yourself one minute each day to step outside. Not to exercise. Not to achieve anything. Simply to notice.
- Feel the air on your skin.
- Look up at the sky.
- Listen to the sounds around you.
- Notice the colours, the movement, the scents.
- If your mind wanders, gently bring it back to what you can see, hear and feel.
You don’t need hours. Sometimes a single mindful minute is enough to remind us that there is a whole world beyond the one inside our thoughts.
You Don’t Have to Do This Alone
In the Blossome Community, we know that reconnecting with yourself doesn’t happen all at once. It happens one compassionate moment at a time.
Whether you join us at a self-care activity, a Resourcing Me session, or through the Bloom Self-Care Hub, you’ll find a community of people gently learning to notice, to pause and to care for themselves with kindness.
We’d love you to join us.
Kim Moore is the Founder of Blossome CIC. She lost her husband Chris to alcoholism in 2017. She faced a difficult journey while raising 2 children alone, with her family living on the opposite side of the world. Kim founded the Blossome Community and The Pathway to Peace healing journey so no one would have to feel alone while enduring the trauma of a loved one’s battle with alcoholism or addiction. She is also on a mission to end the generational cycle of alcoholism and addiction in families.