There comes a moment, often after a woman has walked a considerable distance through her own days and seasons, when she finds herself softly out of step with the surrounding world, not through rebellion nor weariness, nor pride, but through the quiet discernment born only of having lived, loved, lost, questioned, and chosen again, until she can sense—almost by instinct—the difference between what is merely displayed for admiration and what is faithfully inhabited with devotion and care, and it is to you, my gentle companions who have walked far and thoughtfully, that I offer these words as one might offer a cup of warm tea on a cool afternoon, without instruction, without judgement, simply in shared understanding.
For in recent years there has arisen a great fondness for what is named the simple life (slow living), often rendered in pleasing scenes of cottages and bread and neatly pressed linens, and while beauty is never to be dismissed—indeed it is one of life’s great consolations—there remains a quiet distinction, seldom spoken aloud, between a life arranged for appearance and a life shaped by continuity, for the former may be set down at dusk when the weight of it grows tiresome, while the latter settles into the bones, alters the rhythm of one’s breath, and becomes inseparable from the way one moves through the world, so that a woman living in this manner does not speak of it loudly because she is too gently occupied doing it, mending rather than displaying, keeping rather than styling, ordering her days rather than curating them, and in this steady inhabiting lies a depth that requires neither audience nor applause.
I have noticed, too, a peculiar unease in the modern sphere with seriousness, particularly when it resides in women, for devotion is so often mistaken for rigidity and steadiness for severity. Yet, seriousness is nothing more than love that has stayed, deepened, and learned to endure. Those who have borne children, buried grief, crossed inner thresholds, reshaped belief, and remained present to life’s long questions cannot treat existence lightly, not because they lack joy, but because they understand its weight. So when they encounter ways of living spoken of as novelty or ornament, something within them quietly recoils—not in envy nor disdain, but in discernment, for they recognise what time has already taught them.
Many who gather around old ways do so through religion, and for some, this provides comfort and shelter. Yet, there are others—often quieter, often less visible—who have walked through religion and emerged into a spirituality tempered by lived experience, women who do not instruct readily, who tolerate paradox, who do not flee from questions, and who have learned that truth cannot be hurried nor borrowed, for their authority has been earned slowly through attention, humility, and remaining present to life rather than performing certainty upon it.
In this age, where numbers are frequently mistaken for wisdom and visibility for maturity, it is worth remembering that a following does not confer elderhood, confidence does not replace endurance, and instruction offered without time rarely lasts, for time itself is the great sifter, and while those who play at a life may shine swiftly, those who inhabit a life endure quietly and without fuss, often unnoticed until their steadiness becomes unmistakable.
And so, if you find yourself unsettled, or gently irritated, by the lightness with which sacred rhythms are sometimes handled, know that you are neither unkind nor mistaken, but simply standing within a longer season, one that requires no explanation and seeks no competition, for you are not here to be instructed by every passing voice nor to justify the depth of your choosing, but to live—truly, sincerely, and with reverence—and a life lived in this manner will always, in its own time, be recognised by those whose eyes have learned how to see.
Until then, remain steady, keep your hands to your work, let your days speak for you, and trust that this, as it always has been, is how the most authentic lives make themselves known.
With abiding affection and the most profound respect for those who have walked far,
Lady Raquel
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