HEAL YOURSELF TODAY: The Act of Silence for Caregivers

HEAL YOURSELF TODAY: The Act of Silence for Caregivers

I stopped to listen to the birds. You can too, or something similar, in your own soulful way.

I felt like I had to randomly hit record today.
As you can see hair was a mess. Eyes puffy. Dad asleep in his recliner regenerating energy.

When I mentioned we’re leaving Wales — I forgot to say it’s to Stoke.
I forgot a lot of things. Tiredness does that.

But I remembered to point the camera at the view.
Because the birds were going crazy and reminding me there is more to all this than just me and my dad. Nature is alive with so much healing energy, waiting to be tapped into.

And for a few moments in this video, I do nothing but listen to the world outside of me — not the world inside.

That’s the whole post. That’s the whole practice.

I’m 52. My dad’s 97. I’ve been his carer / caregiver for 6 years.
We’ve got less than 4 weeks to pack a house, move him safely, and pray he makes the trip.
My body feels bruised from lack of sleep. My brain is static.
Gori — that primal, panicky voice — has been screaming at me all week:
“Keep going. Don’t stop. If you stop, he stops.”

🦍💩 Gori is so full of manure sometimes it stinks.

This morning I wafted negative thoughts away.
Walked outside, following the birdsong and sun rays. I let myself be a son under the sun, not a carer, for under a minute.

I use those rare peaceful moments to enact The Act of Silence.
It’s not yoga. It’s not a hack. It’s not on an app.
It’s you, choosing — in your own soulful way — to receive instead of give, for the length of one chorus of birdsong.

If you’re caring for someone right now and you’re running on empty:

Find a window. Car window. Bathroom window. Hospital window. Any window.

Crack it open. If you can’t, just close your eyes.

Find one sound that isn’t yours to fix. Birds. Rain. Traffic. Your own breath.

Don’t name it. Don’t photograph it. Don’t post it. Just let it be.

Whisper: “This moment is mine.”

Then go back. Change the bed. Make the call. Clean the thing. Hold the hand.

But know you’re going back different. You've grown stronger in the silence.

Because you remembered you exist outside the crisis.

My dad woke up while I was filming. He didn’t ask where we’re moving. He asked if I was okay.
That’s love.
Your 60 seconds of silence is love, too. For you.

We’re moving to Stoke. New city. Old love. Same fear.
I don’t know if he’ll see Christmas there. I do know he also heard birds from the window by his chair and had his own moment today.

That’s enough.

Take your 60 seconds. I’m taking mine with you.

LOVE ✿ EVERYTHING ✿ TODAY starts when you include yourself in “everything.”

Soulfully,
CJB today xoxo 🌱🐦