I see an unbelievably good osteopath. Partly I love him because we get along so well - we talk about art, surfing, yoga, travelling and music, until he shuts us up because he is listening.

It amazes me how intuitive he seems about bodies. He appears to know what's going on just by very lightly laying his hands on my body to discover what's going on under the skin - bones, muscles, tendons all talking to him about what they need. It's an art that comes from experience and passion, and his ability to really pay attention to more than just basic anatomy. When I was in the other day, I wasn't even really in pain - I call it my intermittent hip fault. Yet he just looked at me and immediately said - hip, a bit in the knee, and your lower back? Yep. Spot on. Over Christmas I thought I had hip bursitus. Not that I was googling - much.

How rare it is to have the time and space to listen to the body's intelligence.

He's just got back from a six month trip up to Queensland and round the cape, around Darwin and into the centre, barefoot on country with his wife and kids. As he worked he talked about the silence of the desert, the pure space out there, the stars, the moon rising and the sun setting. As he positioned himself over my supine body he slipped into meditative dialogue, asking me to release particular parts. This is often just a matter of me sending attention to the bits he's calling out - my feet, the top of my head, my diaphragm. He can feel those parts shifting when I can't. Sometimes his dialogue sends me into a strange, floating state - my body in space, in oneness and peace and silence. He asks me to imagine my body spreading out like a desert star.

The theme of this session, it seemed, was silence and space and listening.. Therein the body knows the answers. Therein all the body's intelligences know the answers.

Desert flowers, NE Victoria

It's a theme for me this January too. Knowing neither of us have to go back to work in two weeks has us free up our mindspace. As Jamie isn't as stressed, nor am I - my empathy often picks up on his energy, which is hard sometimes. Without the added stress, I feel a spaciousness that I haven't felt for a very long time.

It makes me think a lot how valuable space is - almost more than anything. One needs this emptiness to process, and then to listen to the body's intelligences. Not necessary the brain, overworked and overstimulated, but the heart's intelligences, that are so often ignored because one is in survival mode.

In the vast spaciousness, things can grow

How beautiful it is in nestle into these quiet, expansive corners and just listen to breath, to heart. To find a deep knowing that is beyond anxiety and angst. To trust in these knowings and to let them guide me.

In this expansiveness and the vast beautiful silence, I can make decisions about where to next, and feel confidence in what is, without the second guessing. Of course nothing is easy, but there is a sense of ease that I haven't felt for a long time.

How precious.