We've been travelling around Ireland in the camper for the last few days.
For the most part, Ireland has been kind to us. The weather started off fine and bright, the sort of weather that seems to make an already glorious landscape even more beautiful. Blue skies, great stretches of green and those winding Irish roads where you never quite know what might be around the next corner.
We've travelled the Ring of Kerry countless times in the camper, and as beautiful as it is, this time we decided to venture a little further away from the familiar.
We headed up towards Ballylongford.
And, as so often happens when we're travelling in the camper, we found somewhere we hadn't planned to find.
A beautiful old castle. A wild camping spot with a sea inlet on one side and the open ocean on the other.
We parked the camper somewhere in the middle.
It was one of those places that makes you wonder why everyone isn't there.
Perhaps that's the beauty of it.
Then came our final day.
And the heavens opened.
Proper Irish rain.
The sort that makes you look through the camper window and wonder what on earth you're supposed to do with the day.
Initially, I felt that familiar flicker of frustration.
We were in this beautiful country. There were places to explore, roads to drive, things we could be doing, and we only had one day left in this beautiful part of the world.
And instead, it was raining.
But perhaps that's the problem sometimes.
We become so used to doing that we forget there is value in simply being.
So instead of fighting the weather, we stopped.
We started heading in the direction of home and found a beautiful campsite right on the edge of the sea, where we pitched the van.
We put out the fishing rods.
And we waited.
The rain drummed steadily against the roof of the camper.
Inside, the gas cooker hissed beneath the kettle.
There is a particular smell to a camper when the kettle is boiling on a wet day.
Outside, the fishing rods stood patiently in the rain.
And suddenly, the day didn't feel wasted at all.
Quite the opposite.
There was nowhere we needed to be.
Nothing we needed to achieve.
Nothing to tick off a list.
We could simply sit and listen to the rain.
Watch the sea.
Wait for a fish that may or may not decide to appear.
And drink something hot while the weather did whatever it wanted to do.
It reminded me how rarely we allow ourselves to wait anymore.
We want everything immediately.
Even on holiday, we can feel the need to make every day count.
To see everything.
To experience everything.
To make the most of our time.
But perhaps making the most of our time doesn't always mean filling it.
Sometimes it means leaving a little space.
Sometimes the weather changes the plan.
Sometimes the fish don't bite.
Sometimes the road leads somewhere completely different from where you thought you were going.
And sometimes all there is to do is put the kettle on and wait.
There is a beauty in that.
A beauty in patience.
And, as if Ireland wanted to prove the point, the following morning we opened the camper door to glorious blue skies.
The rain had gone.
The sea looked different again, the light had returned and the day ahead suddenly felt full of possibility.
We hadn't needed to hurry the rain away.
We'd simply needed to let it pass.
Perhaps patience isn't really about waiting for something to happen.
Perhaps it's learning to notice what is already happening while we wait.
Before you go...
Perhaps today, don't be quite so quick to fill the empty spaces.
Let the kettle boil.
Watch the rain.
Sit for a little longer.
Allow yourself a few moments when there is nowhere you need to be and nothing you need to achieve.
Because sometimes the moments that appear to be doing nothing are the ones that give us the most.
And if you'd like to slow down and stay a little longer, you'll find more stories, reflections and moments from my campervan diaries here at Tenacious Wellness. www.tenaciouswellness.co.uk