Guest Story: Making Time to Just Be, Sarah’s Stay at The George

A guest story by Sarah Gilligan

Academic life often resembles a hamster wheel - one in which you’re juggling plates whilst roller skating backwards.  My working days are often reactive, rather than proactive, with little time to focus on me, my well-being, and my future. As ageing sneakily creeps up on me, I am acutely aware that there will never be enough time, you must make time. Time to pause, breathe, and just be.

I’ve started to schedule Green Days in my diary – I do so months in advance. I commit myself to future moments, to escape, relax and to think. Sometimes such moments are simply a couple of hours one weekday evening, but ideally, they stretch into whole days. Making time to rest, read, and reflect. Often such moments are shared, but increasingly they are just for me. Time to not have to tend to the needs of others, to unplug, to not be available for a while.  My solo stay at The George was indulgent, precious me time to recalibrate at a busy pressure point in the term.

A change of commute, a different route, a slower pace. Time to quell the busy brain and put things in perspective. Opening the front door of The George instantly transported me to much needed silence and a sense of calm. Each room of the apartment revealed itself to be enveloped in care, creativity and attention to detail, luxurious furnishings, soothing colour palettes, and strokable textures. Books and magazines next to squishy sofas, seashells and soft lights. As I opened the doors to each room, I smiled.  Small gestures and objects that spoke of love, emotion and memories. A basket of indulgent welcome gifts that made me feel connected to a place where I immediately felt at home. To feel at home without the domestic pressures of home. Spotless and peaceful. No washing to sort, no piles to tidy, no need to cook for others. To not have to think about the ordinary and mundane after a long day at work. To sit, relax, and gaze into the middle distance for a while and simply let my eyes wander around the room.

An early night curled up with a novel. Waking up spread out diagonally in a huge comfortable bed, easing into the day with coffee whilst swaddled in soft bedding. A busy day ahead of meetings, tutorials and supervisions calmed by a slower, quieter commute to and from campus. As I returned to The George my retreat time beckoned. No rolling news, no email, and no urgent requests.

After what felt like months of wintery grey and rain it was joyous to start my day differently, with a walk along the coast. Cold and brisk, but bright and sunny as I wandered like a child at my own daydream laden pace collecting pebbles, shells and sea glass. Taking photographs, noticing the changes to the beach and the seafront since the last time I visited Whitley Bay. In the wind, I could hear the whispers of conversations with my late Mum – feeling her with me even in her absence. A precious moment together to reflect and to feel connected. A chance to pause and be reminded of what really is important in the grand scheme of things and the need to readjust one’s priorities.

I wandered across the pebbles, noticing the traces of the industrial past that have been smoothed by the sea and regeneration. Crows and seagulls lined the sea wall observing the dogs playing on the beach as they bounded along the sand with a sense of absolute joy. I continued along the coastal path with St Mary’s Lighthouse in the distance to The Links art gallery. The warmth, conversation and laughter in the café filling the space as locals and dogs mix with tourists for coffee and cake amongst the paintings and prints. I bought coffee, cake, and cards for friends and loved ones. I vowed to return in the future to treat myself to a picture for my home as a reminder of elsewhere. I walked through the town with its mix of shops and cafes, thrifting colourful second hand finds for my spring / summer wardrobe, and gazed through windows filled with delicious deli treats. A different start to the day to blow the cobwebs out and clear my head to think.

A huge bowl of soup at the dining table for lunch followed by a pre-scheduled online co-working meeting. Along the way, we got distracted and I virtually showed my collaborator around the The George. We talked of friends and colleagues from near and far who would also love the space to write and create. Virtually together but apart, we worked in comfortable silence on our respective tasks. As our session ended and the late afternoon wintery light faded, I went for another walk. I treated myself to freshly cooked fish and chips from around the corner and then sat back at the table with an increased sense of clarity. As the evening darkness fell, I worked late into the night with a notebook and laptop. Pages filled with ideas, plans, and thoughts about future projects. Finally, I was able to join the dots and make the connections that had previously been hiding in plain sight.

Reflections turned into developing new schedules, ways of working, and looking at how to balance different elements that would enable me a clearer focus on being proactive, rather than reactive. Uninterrupted, working elsewhere, I gained clarity and calm. Things that had seemed impossible during mid-winter now had a strategy. A difficult article that I am developing now had an updated plan, structure and targets for completion. Returning to The George in the months ahead is key to that plan. To carve out time and space not only to rest and think, but to write, edit and create. Most of all though, my visit to The George was a timely reminder of the importance of making time to just be.