Do we live to work, of work to live? For me, it is often a very blurred line.
If I am not writing, I feel as if I am barely living; conversely, if I am writing, I'm aware that there is a whole lot of living going on around me that my children are experiencing and I am merely working.
This weekend was a 'bank holiday' in Australia, celebrating the Queen of England's birthday (don't even get me started on being a colonial outpost), so therefore, a long weekend of the best kind. Crisp blue sky-ed mornings with a distinct icy chill in the air viewed through double glazing and the warmth of central heating toasting our toes.
We've lazed as a family, watching a Harry Potter marathon on the screen in the evenings, I've baked pies and walked and gardened a little in the winter's sun, and when the rest of the family was engaged elsewhere, I've snuck off to pen a couple of draft chapters and been barely missed.
Best of all, I've pushed any pressure aside and simply refused to schedule, plan or organise anything. Bliss! For one who considers my Outlook Express and Iphone synching de rigeur, just going with the flow is truly living amidst my family, not timetabling them in alongside all the other of life's priorities.
So for those of you who have even the vaguest of interest in what I write, perhaps try this method sometime.
Put the phone on answer, look around the room at those you love, pat the dog for an hour, call your other kids who are far away, give yourself a manicure, look up at the sky for as long as you like, forget about the diets and the must do's and simply breathe in the moment.
As person wiser than me once said: "Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away".
To me, it goes a little further, if we don't allow ourselves unscheduled moments, then how can we ever understand our own unspoken needs and those of whom we love?