Have you ever felt as if your mind was like a computer screen with tens of tabs open simultaneously, slowing down the working capacity to such an extent that nothing functions well at all? My hand is straight up!
This is what led me last month to the conclusion that June was to be my month for meandering, intentionally releasing and receiving. So, after a slower month and a much-needed week’s holiday away, I have begun to feel a little better since making space for recovery.
Consequently, I’ve been contemplating this concept of creating space.
It was this photograph that helped with my musings… 
We were walking along The Sailors Path in Suffolk, through a quiet wood when a hollow circle of light appeared ahead, like a still full moon, encircled by the dense woodland trees creating open space ahead beyond the forest canopy.
The view really struck me and seemed to whisper to my soul, “make space”.
Sometimes, in our lives, I think we become hemmed in with the familiarity of accumulated thoughts and things, and ways of working. We become over comfortable with the way things are and are unable to see how to clear away the jumble of accumulated debris that used to work for the way we lived, but now, no longer serves any purpose except that of familiarity.
Since we cannot see how to create space; we leave things as they are. We favour familiarity over change because we believe it to be the easiest option. It is not. I can testify to the fact that ignoring the issue tends to lead to an untimely crisis or burnout to some degree or another. We all need to make space in our lives!
We often cannot see beyond the forest of our own making until we intentionally clear some space for the light to shine in; making room for new things in our lives: making room for God to dwell and work within us.
I’m still lost this last month- oscillating between ok days and not so ok days, fraught with inexplicable tension and anxiety that won’t seem to shift. I’ve diced with mild anxiety for a while now, but it’s starting to exhaust me, it’s weight heavy in my shoulders and hips, robbing me of making decisions that should be easy to make; stripping my ability to think cohesively or create easily.
It’s not a good place to find myself in. I’m having to make myself do things that would usually be a pleasure. I’m sure we’ve all been there at some point in our lives...
I suspect this is all of my own making... because I haven’t stopped, knowing I needed to last month, and now I am reaping the results of that decision.
A Month of Meandering...
So, June is to be a month of meandering, I’ve decided...trying to be kind to myself.
It’s a month of intentionally slowing down, stopping and trying not to feel guilty when there seems to be little tangible to show for the day. It’s my way of addressing the anxiety and the feelings that everything has just become “too much”
Read more: Rest...Receive...Release...Renew...Restore.. Revive... Return...
The inner landscape of my heart has been feeling bleak for a while, even though the physical view from the outside might look healthily picturesque.
How about you? How does your heart feel at the moment?
Half Hearted
I’ve taken myself off grid for the last couple of months, unable to multitask any longer with deadlines looming for commissions. Social media became too noisy; too demanding, too distracting for my anxious soul so I shut myself off, put on the familiar blinkers, gearing up and turning inwards to survival mode whilst Iooking forward to the pleasure of finishing outstanding work.
The thing is...everything has been completed for a fortnight now, yet I’ve still been finding it difficult to find that satisfaction of finishing or negotiate the lack of motivation to move forward, partly exacerbated by the fact that for the first time in over a year, there is no work, so no obvious direction.
I have felt numb, half-hearted; unable to see further than the day ahead, wondering why with the privilege of for once, having all the time in the world to dream and do whatever I would like, I am unable to motivate myself to actually do anything.
Rooted and Resting
Battling the Elements
It’s been a long, hard winter that has stretched through the rhythm of four seasons, and many of us may feel as if springtime in our souls is never coming.
No-one likes to linger in winter winds that bite into our very being, our vulnerability evident by the inability to withstand the long-term effort it takes us to remain standing through the force of a gale. Head down, suitably togged up, we often begin a difficult journey with resolute fortitude, but as the elements of our circumstances continue to rage, refusing to abate, we lose energy, hunkering down into survival mode.
This is how it feels right now. I’ve lost the initial resolve I had at the start of the storm; the onset of the pandemic, to cope. The new projects and patterns of living I devised to address the new normal are losing their allure.
I feel increasingly exhausted, vulnerable, and exposed, often finding it difficult to think straight or effectively make use of the vast amount of time I am privileged to have. I think that I’m in survival mode, my mind unable to process much more.
We are not designed to constantly battle the elements but to accept and work with them.
Read more: Strength through Adversity: Spiritual Lessons from Under the Ground
January is always a difficult, dreary, grey month, I find, and this year has been harder than most.
It’s been difficult to see any light ahead any time soon, and I’m finding it all too easy to wallow in the sadness of all that is missing, wasting the gift of the days, rather than focus on all I do have.
Difficult Days
Last month wasn’t helped by the fact that we unexpectedly lost a dear aunt. She was a stalwart 89 years of age, fiercely independent and still living in her own home and I had briefly seen her at Christmas with a festive doorstep visit. She was very alert and cheerful as usual, despite the common ailments, aches, and pains of old age, genuinely grateful as usual for the simple life she led and mindful of those who visited and phoned her regularly, thankful for their care.
After the initial shock of the news of her death, it has been such a blessing to recall her life.
How is it that it is often not until someone has gone, that we are able to put into words why they have meant so much to us?
Why is it, that in their absence we recall more of what they have gifted to us of their precious lives?
Joyce led such a simple life. She did not drive, had not travelled abroad, and had lived in the same ordinary semi since she was married, but she was always grateful, expressing this verbally frequently to those she was with. She possessed the rare wisdom of knowing that she had all she needed and was content, despite her ailments, and I am the richer for knowing her and all that she unwittingly shared.