It occurred to me instead that I had a limited amount of time to notice this winter, this occurrence, this now. So on a walk today I didn't just wrap up and concentrate on the destination, I tried to know I was moving between points, and to live the journey. I saw that my body enjoyed the exercise, and pull in of crisp air. I recalled that the bare trees knew what to do, and were even now perhaps creating new growth. And I appreciated the glisten of recent rain on the patient foliage I passed. I was also glad to see that I was quiet enough to appreciate a return to the outdoors each time I changed location, and was glad to be alert to this winter afternoon.
We have seen the close of the shortest day. What does this mean to us in reality? It could be I decide it is a relief, noting that life is busy underground and that spring, summer, heat are all coming our way.
It occurred to me instead that I had a limited amount of time to notice this winter, this occurrence, this now. So on a walk today I didn't just wrap up and concentrate on the destination, I tried to know I was moving between points, and to live the journey. I saw that my body enjoyed the exercise, and pull in of crisp air. I recalled that the bare trees knew what to do, and were even now perhaps creating new growth. And I appreciated the glisten of recent rain on the patient foliage I passed. I was also glad to see that I was quiet enough to appreciate a return to the outdoors each time I changed location, and was glad to be alert to this winter afternoon.
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I invite you to read this a few times, and sense which parts feel accurate to you and which parts jar...
The feel of the piece is compassionate, inviting us not to stay in shame about what we tried to do before. However, I was aware of a reaction to the thought that we should turn away from our yesterdays. Each new day is a gift of newness, but we cannot help taking our whole selves into it. With loving awareness we can hold the idea that we did do our best with what we had, and also that our growth depends on understanding how those behaviours, thoughts, fears were elicited from us. We can then begin to make choices about how we want to move on further through our lives. The snows are melting now and for many of us it is a return to normality. Perhaps you were snowed in from work, or friends were unable to keep arrangements, or shops shorter of foods we expect to see.
The local streets are noticeably fuller of those who lay down without a roof over their heads, for reasons only each knows. Like many, at this unusual time I was again mindful of those who are laying down to sleep on concrete. I was told of someone who talked of a 'fatigue', which I take to be an overwhelm with this issue. We can become accustomed to these scenes, and still feel helplessness on an individual level. Anger on a global level. I am writing to acknowledge those who stop and share a moment to have a cup of tea or listen to the story of another. They are connecting, showing a stranger in need that they have been noticed. In the meantime, we hope those who make decisions will initiate some global action to provide a safe place for begin to develop hope. A happy new year to you...what will your version of happiness be? It is a liberating thought to know that we can define our own version, trust our own sense of 'happy'. Often misled by the media and at-a-glance TV, it can be easy to lose sight of the fact we can create our own gauge.
When are you happy? How do you know? And what do you now wish to lay down and leave behind? This kind of attention to yourself takes some time. We need quiet space to tune in to what we are lacking, and remember what nourishes us. But the time to consider yourself is also part of the journey, and I would suggest it is a nourishing gesture in itself. So- I invite you to know that the rest of your life starts now, and now, and ...and feel the excitement of knowing you can take that first step towards a broader life. I see many people are living in a state of fear. The media has something to answer to, with its focus on the troubles between people and states. Recent high profile elections suggest there are those who are waiting to take power who then continue to ignore the voice of those who are compassionate and gentle. It seems to be a time of reaction.
If we cannot maintain the ties between us at our lower level of lived experience, then we are not doing enough to counter-act this challenging time. I feel my responsibility lies in that other voice. A quiet and consistent voice, naming the positives and the hope. Our actions needn't be framed as insignificant. A thank you to a stranger, an invitation to another to take a turn before you, a passing smile answered...all of these are powerful gestures out to others that life is as it has always been. That is: demanding, needing attention, beautiful and rich. From where I sit I see a jumble of foliage, a collection of hills, a varied sky of greys, blues and differing clouds. I understand that I can look at this as a whole or in parts, each offering me a fresh perspective.
The whole enables me to see there is room for variety and my roaming eye picks up shade against light, large against small. The undulation of the hills provide backdrop and scale. In other words, every thing creates a whole impression if I look vaguely. If I look at each I can see the skyline only 'ends' because of things in the way; this planet rotates in an encompassing pool. A tree grows tall if free to do so, enabling room for other light-seeking growth to happen. Things rise up and drop back but each has its place and form of perfection. it is interesting to think of our inner landscape like this. There is a time and season for everything, and it may ease things to remember everything passes. An illusion of control may serve us well at times, but at other times become like an exhausting fist-grip on the tide. Just for today, we could try watching with curiosity and compassion how feelings and thoughts rise and fall. This may bring a level of peace to our busy adult day. I have been busy, life became fast. It is increasingly enriching, but it is an interesting marker for me to note I did not manage to write a blog over the colder months. Returning to this periodic writing place, I am thinking of the importance of ritual. Ritual can offer a pause, a reflection on where we are. Writing does this for me, offering a chance to look at fragments of my life in close detail.
When I was on holiday earlier this year, I had breakfast outside in the morning sun. Looking down I saw hundreds of jewels at my feet; minute rainbows hanging from the ends of grass blades. It reminded me of that time of childhood when we would have time to watch clouds, wonder about ants, taste things for the first time. These drops of dew are always there- crimson, green, gold, glittering, poised - but that day I took time to look. I remembered I can create beginnings from the everyday just by allowing it to happen. The light at this time of year seems to throw things into sharp relief. The dying colours of leaves are intense, the sharpness of the morning light reminds me that we have just a short while left until the skies are more predictably grey, the light more limited. It can also be seen as a season of surprises, with sudden warm days, long-lasting downpours, frosts that creep overnight.
On this theme I have been reflecting on our capacity to surprise ourselves; our openness to shifts in the detail of what we do day to day. Do we define ourselves too often, creating parameters for ourselves which are well-trodden: "I always...", "I never...", "I don't..."? I wonder what would happen if we faced some days like children do, for whom so many things are new. We may find opportunity arises from this openness, leading on to an even richer diet of experiences. I intend to hold to this stance. I believe it will offer much: an opportunity to learn more about others, about myself, and- most crucially- about myself in the world, alongside others. What is so exciting about this time is that I do not have to look too far, as I know that opportunity awaits me to notice it. I feel aware of a sense of mobilization, triggered by the images of the refugees' struggles. The mobilization I see is people wishing to help. I am hearing of, and seeing, local efforts to send resources to support those vast swathes of people who are seeking safety. It helps me remember that most people are waiting to prove humanity and connection. A fresh breath of air, substantially healthier than alarmist warnings about the shadowy threat of 'others' crossing borders.
The images are at times harrowing, at times uplifting, at times humbling, particularly at the trust which is implied in those seen sitting and waiting for their chance. I am also aware they remain images to me. Each of those faces, including those of children being held aloft in need of a place on a bus or for food, have seen and felt things which are outside my experience. Those children will grow with these experiences as part of their narratives. The pregnant walkers are coping day to day, with their experiences feeding their unborn child's development. We see hope in the images, which is surely what makes those journeys possible to contemplate. When I consider the forward-moving ripple effect of this time I hope that compassion can be sustained. We may also be able to use this time to remind ourselves of our own comparative safety in a context we may know to be less than perfect but one, at least, in which daily life has not become an unknown. Like most who will see it I was impressed by 'Inside out'. The theme was deep rather than broad and offered the message that those who practice self-reflection know: grief needs a voice. On the face of it, Joy's insistent presence at the controls seems positive, and a strange thing to resist. But resist I do, because of the resulting under-development of the rest of our range.
If you are reading this and struggling with over-whelming, debilitating sadness or fury you will understandably be seeking to relieve that. Curious that knowing we don't want it to be our over-riding sense will not, in itself, reduce it. We may be avoiding parts of ourselves that, we will find, will not leave. I have seen clients gain eventual, significant relief from the process of turning to face rage or loss. Exploring, understanding and finally accepting 'difficult' feelings as a part of themselves, arising from our experiences. 'Truth will out' has an affectual underpinning. Sadness will out, and grief, loss, fury, fear and joy...will out. |
AuthorI am greatly interested in narrative- stimulated by the way we story ourselves and others, weaving this into a whole. I support those who wish to work psycho-therapeutically with me, to explore this aspect of our experience. My interest extends to the written word. I am nourished by writing and invite you to consider my blogs as part of your reflective practices. Archives
December 2019
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