The colour of cherishment
Is the colour of cherishment cherry red?
Does nourishment taste of casserole (or chocolate)?
Does gentleness lie rocking in a wicker cradle?
And kindness glide like a flowing river,
caressing rocks and carrying fishes,
letting water boatmen skate and forgiving the conkers
which plop through its surface to root in its bed?
“Just for me”
Is it easy to cherish and nourish? Natural to be kind and gentle? To oneself? Oh… there’s the tricky bit – oneself. How many of us notice ourselves not lighting the fire, “just for me”? Not wearing a best item of clothing, for our own pleasure? Not treating ourselves to that special something but instead finding someone else to buy it for? And how many more of us don’t go out to dinner or to the theatre or on an outing or a holiday, alone?
I bump along the bottom quite often, under-cherished, self depriving, staying home. The ‘excuse’ of grief is wearing a bit thin. It’s true that doing those things by myself brings home to me my aloneness and lack of someone to share with; it’s true I lack self confidence in public; but if I’m really honest, is that why I do ‘spartan’ to myself?
Resistance
The truth is, I resist cherishing myself because I want someone else to do it for me. Why should I care, if my special someone isn’t there to care? This state of affairs leads me to two conclusions.
Firstly, that my outward focus – work, doing, others – has depleted my inner resources and
secondly, that I do not love myself sufficiently to give myself the tender care and attention I long for.
For 36 years I have put the needs of a partner (one or other of them!) before my own. For 20 years I had children living at home who needed me. For 30 years my work has been to support other people. What do I want? What brings me pleasure? Am I of value not for what I do but for who I am? Who am I?
Productivity
I know I am not alone in these thoughts. Many of us seek to validate our existence by what we do for others, as if our ‘productivity’ determines our value. I also know that when I speak to myself with affection and respect, when my voice is gentle and I think of myself as “sweetheart” rather than, “idiot”, life feels softer and sweeter.
When the ones who loved us so very dearly die – maybe a partner, or a mother or father, a sibling or dear friend – it can feel as if we will never be cherished again, that we are no longer appreciated, forgiven or adored, that nobody now cares what we do or where we are on the face of the earth. The loneliness of that sorrow can feel overwhelming.
Invitation
There is an invitation, an invitation I resist, to love myself as I have been loved. What would it be like to see myself through those eyes which adored me? What would I be if I believed in myself the way they believed in me? How can I befriend the neglected one within me? Can I genuinely know that life has been gifted to me for me to unwrap and appreciate? To accept such an invitation would surely return the colour and bloom to my life.
Some people say we are tested while we are here. It’s not my philosophy. That we are here to learn. Maybe. I think, that amongst other things, I am here to feel. What more amazing ‘feeling machine’ could there be than a human being, whose mind, emotions and body are elegantly and intelligently intertwined and in communication with one another, inhabited by an indwelling essence and enlivened by whatever it is that brings life and breath to all things? How subtly sorrow and joy, love and fear can be nuanced. How swiftly we can understand the words of another and the emotions behind them. How is it we can be uplifted by Bach and moved to tears by the sun setting over the ocean?
Rainbow of Feeling
Maybe we all find ourselves occupying a different place in the rainbow of feelings. In my life, even as a child, I seem to have been exploring the colour of grief, its textures, the minor key of its chords. Writing is for me a bridge between inner feelings which are often formless, and outer expression, which gives them form. I don’t sit down to write what I think, I sit down to find out what I feel to be true, by writing.
These blogs give me a reason to pause and ponder and I appreciate the opportunity to share with you what I find. Today what I find, is that it’s time to appreciate my loving heart and time to offer my head the softest of pillows. I, like many of us, have not been dealt the easiest of hands (or the hardest) so how about I don’t make it harder by depriving myself? How about, I understand that in order to give, I have to allow myself to receive – and that includes from myself – that there is no shame in asking for more and that, as my late husband told me in no uncertain terms:
“There is no virtue in being self-depriving”.
As I invite myself into that understanding, so I extend that invitation to you too.
With my love
Nickie
NEWS
Day of the Dead
Friday November 1st from 7/7.30 – midnight in the Civic Hall, Totnes
Organised by Sarah Parker (Dying with Grace) and with RedEarth Playback Theatre.
A beautiful, gentle, love filled evening where there will be a ritual of rememberance. I will be holding a sanctuary for grief, a safe and gentle space for you to be as you are.
Coming up
Retreat on Dartmoor: Moving Forward with Loss and Grief, 21st to 24th November
Organised and booked by Sally Potter (Devon Wellness Retreats). I am co-facilitating and will be holding creative time, using nature, writing, song and sharing, as well as offering one on one time (at no extra cost) for those who would like it.
Buy me a cofee
I gift this blog and in fact much of my work, including spiritual care in the hospice and running the threshold singing group. Some of you have expressed a desire to gift me back. Thank you so much. For those of you who would like support what I do, you can, if you wish, buy me a coffee here. Thank you xx