Holland Park in winter

Winter in London is a melancholic time. Trees are reaching their sharp black branches out to the grey and heartless sky, soil is frozen to the core and covered in withered leaves, and playgrounds, normally full of cheerful little Londoners, stand deserted. Holland Park is a very special place: small enough to be enjoyed at a leisurely pace, yet full of variety and tucked-in secret corners. Statues, ponds, and a Japanese zen garden. A lovely park where you can get lost in your thoughts, plot your next adventure, or simply enjoy some crispy winter air.

I was wondering that if we never expect nature to be on top form every day and year around, why we are so obsessed with being productive, prolific, and creative every day? We forgive nature its’ need to rest, relax, and reflect, yet when it comes to our own lives, we set very high and often unobtainable standards. Wouldn’t we all benefit from cutting ourselves some slack?

I think learning to be more gentle towards myself, more accepting of my flaws and frailties should be my aim for this year.

 

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