Soft rain pattered against her windowsill, each drop streaked like tears as they fell against the glass. The skies were grey, and unpromising. Vials of lavender, mint, orange blossom, lemon, and honeysuckle extracts rolled in Amelia's palms as she sat above her infuser. Her hands moved with purpose and care as she concocted a peaceful potion. A cozy brew to blanket the room, and quell her senses and stress.
Amelia watched the infuser's velvety vapour pour across the large flat green leaves of her potted peace lily, and let the fogging mist roll over her. The notes of her blend tickled her nostrils, and eased the tension in her head. Slightly settled, it was time for another attempt forward, and she returned to her desk. Her favourite chair sighed as its legs moved against her home's oak floor. Leaving her laptop to rest, Amelia lifted her pen from atop an opened notebook. The ballpoint tip loomed above the empty white sheet aching to scratch it. Begging to channel something profound to the page.
Things had been difficult.
Morale was low across the board. Unprecedented sorrow, doubt, and defeat had ripened to a rank, pungent odour amongst her team. There had been losses and personal tragedies for all, and it felt as if each member was hanging by a thread.
Aromatherapy rippled through the air of her apartment, and she breathed in deep, attempting to fan the embers within. There had always been a fire inside Amelia. A relentless, passionate inferno, able to send nourishing warmth, safety and protection to those within her vicinity like the Sun. Those who opposed it were destined to charcoal. In its depths it burned like a raging locomotive engine, catapulting her and others into action, chunneling ever forward. Though in the days and months of late Amelia’s insides felt closer to slumbering coals twinkling in ash. Nursing a faint, pulsating, glow. There was still heat, but was in desperate need of fuel to burn bright once more.
Under normal circumstances, ones within her control, Amelia led with poise, and certainty. She made efforts to cultivate efficient, clean, happy spaces for her people to flourish. Her teams were curated, and coveted. The trials and tribulations of the last year had taken their toll, and the greatest difficulty Amelia was facing amidst the chaos was a loss of faith in herself.
Her pen spun from her forefinger around her thumb, and back. The words weren't coming. There had to be a way to motivate them, to motivate herself. She could feel inspiration's breath, sitting out of reach.
The beep of a timer sounded from the kitchen. Amelia stepped away from the empty page to her stove, clicking her electric kettle as she passed. She finished the cold remnants of her tea as she stood and stirred her soup. The steaming pot bubbled and boiled and she lowered the flame, watching the slow roll of the hearty, thick bisque.
It smelt of comfort. Felt like her grandmother. Not of the perfumes her Nonna had worn, it wasn't the smells that reminded her, rather, it was that the smells felt like her. Felt like her arms, and her embrace. The combination of rich creams and butters, pungent garlic and onions, potatoes, leeks, and dill, they felt as safe as they were nourishing. They felt like a hug.
Amelia breathed it in, and let it out with a deep exhale as the kettle popped. Her hand fluttered to the cabinet above and floated over her collection of teas. It reached for a jar of honey, and her eyebrows raised in glee. Rare did Amelia use any sugars or sweeteners. But a dollop of honey, a little sweetness in her day felt needed to mend.
With a bag of Earl Grey steeping, honey in her mug, a splash of oat milk, and a spoon to stir, Amelia stepped back towards the page. A few feet away she paused, and stood staring at the foreboding desk. The warm tea soothed as she sipped, its heat spreading from her stomach to her toes. The gentle florals from her cup mixed with the infuser's aromas and wrapped around her head. Bundled within wool, Amelia used her socks to slide across the hardwood, away from the waiting burdens. Instead moving towards the window and the heating grate sitting below. In the muddled daylight she returned to the safety behind her eyelids, drank, and felt.
Honey on her tongue, flowers and fruit in the air, her feet wrapped in warmth. All goodness from a space that she'd created. All happy, rejuvenating consequences from actions made in a time of stress. From the tips of her toes she stretched her legs, arched her back, and reached each arm up individually. It felt good to indulge in her senses. It felt right to focus on her well being.
Her eyes darted back to the waiting page. And instead of brainstorming for her team, or plotting their next course of action, Amelia scribbled a personal schedule. Drafting a plan of self care, yoga classes to attend, a film she'd been meaning to see, foods she wanted to eat, a comforting book she wanted to reread, friends to call.
And the embers caught flame.
In a moment of inspiration her pen dropped to the scribbles across her page. Amelia opened a new email, and addressed her team. In a sudden self conscious flash she paused again. Fighting through the hesitation, Amelia decided a rough draft was a good place to start, and began with the truth. i don't know how to begin this. She stopped again, and lost herself to the cursor's hypnotic blink. Her fingers hovered over the keys. It was a step. It was a start.
Worse, i don't know how to pick myself up right now. Nor how to direct, or orientate us after we've weathered such losses.
All i can do is lead by example. And i want to lead with care.
They say when the weather is too rough to fish, the fishermen mend their nets.
And that is what i intend to do with myself in these turbulent and uncertain times. i will not let myself, or any of you, drown in worry or woe. The only certainty i have is in my own self worth, and i hope you'll join me in celebrating yours.
There are many things beyond our control, we can however, take ownership of how we steer our ship in the meantime. And so i invite you to join me for non-obligatory self care activities. For ourselves, both in and out of office times. i'll be stretching, drinking tea, open for conversation, both light hearted and tough. Excited and ready for meetings, games and hangs, classes and courses.
Please remember that we're all in this together.
And that there's always providence ahead, beyond the eyes of storms.
Amelia stopped typing and sipped her tea.
It wasn't perfect.
But she could still feel the warmth.
Thanks for reading!
-Mr. Write
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