Dropping what no longer serves; listening deeply, finding your unique soul nourishment
Shell petrol stations, ancestors, recording the weather
Dear Reader
I am in a cafe, cosy with a cup of tea and an electric wood effect fire, pulling my draft together for your reading pleasure. After reading ’s note enquiring about third spaces, I’m doubly appreciative of the Pacific Northwest company, Woods Coffee that has 20 coffees houses in Western Washington. They epitomise cosy, with comfy chairs, little meeting rooms, tables or bar stools and the whole vibe says come in and hang out with friends, with a notebook or with your laptop. And they serve excellent tea! We’re blessed with more than one such company, Whidbey Coffee has a similar vibe.
It’s dark outside. The traffic streams by at a busy intersection. Opposite is a Shell Garage with the giant logo illuminated against the dark night sky, shining like a beacon of what? Hope? Destruction?
In my early twenties, I lived in Papua New Guinea. Imagine my surprise at finding an exact replica of the essentially identical Shell petrol stations (gas station) that littered UK towns and cities in the 80s and 90s. This one was in the middle of the Highlands of Papua New Guinea where dirt roads connected scattered communities in small towns and villages, all a flight away from the capital, Port Moresby on the south coast.
It was like something out of Doctor Who (a popular TV show about a time lord who travels the galaxies in his Tardis). As if someone had scooped up a Shell station from a random site in Worcester or York (where I used to regularly grab a can of coke and a mars bar to help me pull an all nighter before an essay deadline) and plonked it down where it surely didn’t belong? But why not? There were cars, trucks and lorries in the Highlands that needed fuel (gas).
I could look up how Shell got its name but I find I’m not that interested! A random fact for you. At one time, the CEO of Shell was someone who shared my surname. It seems somehow quaint that a company that extracts black gold from the bowels of the earth should have chosen the delicate, sea washed marine housing for its name.
These random asides delight me and are very nourishing if I feel flooded with stressful thinking (which happens more when I’m tired). I feel tired just now. My eyes hurt! I had a very broken night. But my spirit is quiet and I am settling into the tiredness without protest. I am embracing the humble cup of tea with new found relish. Isn’t it just a hug in a mug? And enjoying a little stroll down memory land as I follow the thread of the Shell petrol station. I may have misremembered the details but somehow that doesn’t matter.
The week has gone by in a bit of a blur. A couple of gorgeous sunny days have seen me hang out at the beach with my journal and an exciting project is well underway closer to home. A wander in downtown Oak Harbour after a dentist appointment revealed another street of quirky stores and treasures.
You can read more about these and my reflections on what I’m learning about how I tick since realising I may very well be AuADHD, below the paywall. Tuning into what my body wants isn’t always easy or obvious to me, but I like the sound of it! I appreciate the comments that came in last week and look forward to hearing more of your observations.
Welcome to more new paying subscribers this week. It fills my heart with joy to see friends and strangers upgrading to paid. I’ve had some beautiful, deep interactions with those who’ve upgraded. The seeds of this little community have been scattered and one by one those that are ripe, are germinating. I’m quietly excited to see what happens. Thank you all.
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Yours in exploration
Juliet