Rhythm for Blues

What to do? Every day can’t be a duvet day. The dog, despite the seemingly endless rain and the possibility that he might develop webbed feet, still needs to be walked. Food needs to be bought – and not just chocolate – correspondence answered, a living earned. For me, a lot like managing grief, the key lies in rhythm and gentleness.

Rhythm

Simple, daily, weekly rhythms, keep me putting one foot in front of the other: wake, tea, meditate, breakfast, dog walk, work and so on, until the day is completed. Along the way there will be unexpected treasures: a surprise conversation with someone on my walk, a sweet email from a friend, spotting the heron on the river bank. Little things, the tiniest rays of sunshine which penetrate the gloom and remind me that “this too shall pass”. And miraculously it does – not just the day and the month but also the perspective and the featureless landscape which gives way to colour and possibility in due course, without pushing or pulling or bullying. Which brings me to gentleness.

Gentleness

There is much to be said for cultivating an attitude of gentleness towards oneself. If our friend tells us to buck up, stop moping and pull ourselves together, how often will we seek the company of that friend? And yet, I am certain that the voice and attitude with which we often speak to ourselves, is critical and woefully lacking in compassion. How would it be, as a practice, to put some kindness into our voices to ourselves? Can we tend to ourselves enough to say,

Can we catch ourselves, when we call ourselves lazy or stupid, boring or a failure and soothe ourselves with a soft and understanding friendship?  It is phenomenal the difference this one simple practice can make to our wellbeing. My late husband had, in a particular way, a very poor opinion of himself. When he was dying, someone suggested this practice and I watched it transform his attitude to allow for the possibility of self forgiveness.  I truly believe that when he died, he had made peace with himself at last. Can we make peace with ourselves now, while we have life to live?  And too, can we make peace with our lives? However much I want to argue with reality, it doesn’t change it.

Trust

I had to deal with a very painful set of circumstances at the end of 2023. No amount of wishing it could be have been different or that it had never happened, is going to change the reality. And no amount of wishing my beloved ones who have died had made different choices or were still here, is going to change that either. I spent New Year’s Eve with a friend and together we reviewed 2023 and looked towards 2024. Again and again, what came up for me was ‘trust’:

Trust myself – I know now that I can, I can respect myself and make good choices even if I make mistakes sometimes;

Trust Life – to unfold as it will and to hold me on the journey. As an elder woman, I have perspective now: life has always held me, had my back, despite the sometime anguish of the moment.

Something in the trust, allows a loosening of the grip around the need to control things- as if by being ‘in control’ I could have prevented myself from feeling pain anyway. But if I trust, I can allow things to unfold, I can pay attention, I can respond, I can put one foot in front of the other, gently. In doing so I can bear witness to my own life, take shelter when the storms come, watch the clouds dispersing, be aware of the cycle of things. I’m not up for new year’s resolutions, but what I should like to remember this year is: Trust Life.

With my love to you, wherever you find yourselves as 2024 begins,

Nickie

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