After discovering I'd been heading in the wrong direction with my life's work for the longest time, I was lost. I decided to write daily, without any preconception of what to write, in the hope it would become a map for me, revealing a path forward in real-time. I hope these little pieces of writing, are solace and support to anyone who is lost or flying on a trajectory they no longer want to be on.
6) Compunction
It's an unremarkable English Autumn morning. The clouds cling from the horizon right down into the dell. The colours of the land are more muted to my eye by the opaqueness of the light. It's more windy than breezy, making all the long grasses that still stand bow and quiver giving the appearance that they are sharing confidences.
I think I've always bounced about on a range of understanding between the two beliefs - these being on the visible spectrum of human understanding.
First, that nature is cruel - see the food chain, the weather, the difficulty in survival, natural selection etc. You only have to see a sparrowhawk kill a songbird to know this as completely and unquestionably true.
The other end of the polarity, the second belief, nature is harmonious, we find peace and solace there, all matter of wondrous miracles and awe in every minute detail of our living world from painted butterfly wing to a golden sunset, filling the sky with so much light and colour that you ache for its beauty.
People say, nature is cruel and we are nature - shrugs shoulders, eats a burger.
I say nature may be cruel but we have a choice to be kind.
I've been saying this for a while, feeling satisfied to have come across an answer to my dilemma.
Today, something different began to sink into my awareness.
Nature has no compunction to be kind. Nature does not choose to be cruel. These are human-made containers for a power beyond our imagination.
Each separate being in nature is enlivened by a single source energy, and so as an individual seeks to thrive.
And this Divine source flows through us, it is us, using the vessel of our lives as a lens and infinitely sensitive container through which to viscerally perceive and participate in Life.
I've been conditioned to relate to the human container, the idea and function of family, society, duty, responsibility.
Throughout my life, I've always preferred kindness, gentleness, the softer path of least resistance. And that's ok, more than ok, the world needs more kindness and gentleness, to be walked upon softly and trodden upon gently.
But I mistook it for love.
The very essence of this Divine, thriving source is not found within my human understanding, a framework of morals, of judgement and contrast.
An Oak doesn't fear the lightning, doesn't cower from the wind, complain about the burden of all the species who depend upon it, get annoyed that its roots have to circumnavigate a stone.
But it's also not a passive acceptor of whatever is inflicted upon it, it has the ability to shed its whole complement of leaves and grow another if attacked by insects or uses the tannin in its bark as a poisonous vapour to counter them.
Oak may not judge the insects that seek to devour it for their own survival, but it is not going to let itself be eaten alive.
It's not love like we humans have sanitised it into. That's not the driving force of the Universe.
It's something my mind can only grasp at. Some bigger field that includes everything. Something unimaginably powerful that courses through every atom and the space in between them in my physical world.
And it's that which I am, that calls me. Away from the separation of binaries. Away from all the concepts and beliefs, I have crafted for myself, mostly out of pain or fear (what a revelation - just that!)
7) The Itch
The itch to productise my time is strong.
To make sure I'm spending time 'wisely', at least, an internal pressure to be doing something or to be better at doing nothing!
I make excuses, it's hard to sit here and not look at my phone, message someone or read a book when my son is drumming upstairs and my partner watching a video in another room. It's raining outside and there's no quiet to be found inside - especially not inside me.
My daughter offered me some freelance work for money today. Money would be nice. It was hard to say no, both in terms of supporting her and the chance to have something tangible for myself, some reward.
My energy is low and my mood is uncertain, what the hell am I doing?
It's a force to be reckoned with inside me. The rising, panicking need to do something and to make sure my son is doing something - god forbid he wastes his day too!
I look through the window to the Oaks on the tree line. Their life is long - if allowed. Three hundred years to grow, three hundred to thrive and three hundred to 'venerate' or lose themselves to decaying.
It would take 3 or 4 of my lifetimes before an Oak has reached proper maturity.
Sometimes I feel like my time is running out, I'm 58 soon. Another pressure my mind adds to my beleaguered system.
How do I meet this belief with kindness? I can choose not to believe it, knowing it's only thought, transitory and transient. It may return, it is habitual after all.
But ignoring these wounded thoughts seems cruel. They come to me for comfort, for truth, to be soothed back into precious blessings. They need to be bathed in the balm of my knowing. To be reassured. I'm the only one who can do it.
TBC…
You can find the previous instalment here:
love love love
This series of posts is really pointing me toward something new and I love it. Thank you for your candor and honesty! xoxo