A Minute of Mud - My small attempt at an antidote for better days

My mental health is always up and down. The daily peaks and troughs of life means that things go in and out of my brain throughout the day that make me feel happy, sad and a mix of everything in between. It’s part of life and something we all share but my history of poor mental health means that I haven't always been able to bounce back in the same way that other people might. I have had to work harder over many years to learn how to deal with these ups and downs, learning strategies and tools to be able to cope. Gardening, for example, is one of the ways I regulate. I also like listening to history podcasts, big shoutouts to Tom Holland and Dominic Sandbrook for the masterpiece that is ‘The Rest is History’. I really enjoy food; growing, cooking and eating it. I’m also partial to a gaming night, my XBOX gives me the chance to be a Monster Hunter, especially good on those cold dark winter nights. 

However the world right now feels different and frankly more dangerous than anything I have experienced in my thirty seven years. This does have a grating impact on my overall mood and wellbeing and puts a strain on the effectiveness of the tools I have learnt to help me cope. I do often wonder if I am too switched on to the world around me. If I didn't watch the news and take an interest in news and current affairs would I feel as troubled? I can’t function without understanding the world around me though, I am inquisitive and need knowledge to feel connected and happy. Division and hatred is thrusted in our faces at an alarming rate these days; it's harder to switch off. Think flags popping up on lamposts on our streets, family members airing views you didn't think they had (calling into question whether you're actually related), graphic images of an assasination right at our fingertips. It’s all pretty rough on our noggins.

I think this is why so many of us are craving slow living, a simpler life closer to the land and in better touch with nature. If I lived in the woods, would I be so bothered by the news? If I was focused on simply growing food for my family or looking after my herd of sheep would I be less stressed with the world? Or maybe it’s just hunkering down and hiding away that appeals. I am always being bombarded on social media by homesteading accounts, people who have sold up everything and started a smallholding or living in a campervan and foraging. It’s a pleasant bombardment and I am envious of these people who have made that decision, one day I will, but for now I have to do something.

During the Covid pandemic my social media accounts were a hive of activity, I had a powerful community of people all sharing and supporting each other via their gardens, through that difficult time. That community certainly helped my own mental health and connecting with others is a fundamental part of improving wellbeing. I feel I have lost a lot of that community and I want to get it back.

I am putting A Minute of Mud out there with no grand strategy, no polished content plan, and no idea where it might go. At its most basic, it’s me getting outside once a week to talk about the stuff I love, soil, gardening, wellbeing, and how all three are connected. If that’s all it does, great.

Why mud? Well, I’m passionate about soil. That passion has grown over the years, particularly through my friendship with Eddie Bailey who runs RhizoPhyllia. I met Eddie at RHS Malvern Spring Festival earlier in the year when I interviewed him onstage and what he doesn't know about the earth beneath our feet isn't worth knowing. Soil is fundamental to life. Without healthy soil, there is no food, no biodiversity, no future. And yet, the health of our soils has been decimated by modern living (Eddie would say since the invention of the plough). As a gardener, I know that if I don’t understand my soil, I can’t understand my garden. And if I can’t understand my garden, I lose one of the biggest tools I have to regulate my own mental health.

So each week, I’ll stand (or sit, or lie!) in the mud and share something small. Maybe it’ll be about gardening, maybe about wellbeing, maybe about something completely different that’s on my mind. My hope is that it becomes an evolving opportunity to connect with others again, to rebuild the kind of community that helped me through the hardest of times.

See you next week.