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For the last years of her life, I would do lots of things to help nana including her weekly food shop. And one of the things I found most interesting was that she used to ask me when she could get things like strawberries or tomatoes. In other words, when would they be in season? She couldn't quite believe you could have them any time of year and wondered where I was getting them from! They had a vegetable patch in their garden and lived the rhythm of the natural world so for her these weren’t lifestyle decisions, it was just how things were. So Mary would probably laugh at the idea of a ‘slow living’ Instagram account (if she’d have known what that was). It wouldn’t have been unkind, just with the amusement of someone who never stopped living that way and couldn't see what all the fuss was about. She fixed her own clothes, only bought what she truly needed and when it came to making decisions, relied on her own intuition. So today, I would like to use Mary’s memory to remind us all that we haven't lost access to this ancestral wisdom. We've been pulled away from it by convenience, by consumption and by a world that profits from our disconnection and then sells us the reconnection. But the knowledge is still there. The sense of season and cycle and the instinct for what's enough - none of that has gone anywhere, it just needs remembering. And remembering, it turns out, isn't that hard it just requires us slowing down long enough to notice. This is what sits at the heart of my work and remembering our connection to nature. It’s not a treatment or a trend but the recognition that humans are nature and when we lose contact with the living world we lose connection from ourselves. Mary never needed a name for it, she just never forgot it in the first place. Mary could also see cycles where the rest of us saw only chaos. The fractured politics, the sense that something is off and the disconnection as she'd seen versions of all of it before. Wars, pandemics, economic crashes. She seemed to know, not theoretically but in her bones, that things balance out. She kept a gentle hand on my back through some of my hardest years and a steady presence I couldn't fully name at the time but can see clearly now. A lot of what I'm building is an attempt to offer something of that to other people. Places to slow down and spaces to zoom out. A reminder that the long view exists, even when we can't see it ourselves and that we already hold more than we think. That’s why I’m so excited by the new events we’ve been building. We have the monthly gatherings at Patch in Bournemouth (with the next one this Thursday), the seasonal workshops at Four Acre farm aligned to the wheel of the year (next one on June 26th) and now we have the longer table dinners starting on the 5th June…
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