Year of Self Compassion #9 #caving

Getting to the keyboard to write this weekend didn’t happen so for the first time in years it is a Monday I am writing … a hint that I can be flexible with my practice even though it feels out of line. Part of self-compassion is surely to recognise limits and being clear with myself about what they are by noticing them emerging instead of always pushing through. It is a delicate balance to know what might be a caving in to a lack of discipline or a gentle ‘fair enough’ attitude. Caving in also an invitation to go deeper to notice what is blocking the discipline, so that is where I will go with this post.

Not writing this weekend was partly due to travel and spending time to share in celebrations of a family wedding half way across the state, close to where I was born. The scenery was epic with hospitality to match. Joie de vivre infused every body, heart and soul – a contagion from the happy couple to all those who were breathing the same air. It is hard for me though to be at these beginnings and middles, knowing how it all ends. A fatalism banished from my heart and head as I was blown away by a Baker Street saxophone reprise – that old familiar riff and the lyrics are sung in my head and Sherlock Holmes has been recruited to the cave. The words remind me that maybe in a year I will stop crying, and in the morning, the sun will be shining and I will be going home.

For months now I have had little to no energy or excitement about my business– it feels too big, too far away and too much. There are nibbles of interest but it was requiring me to be the initiator and right now that role is not for me. I have been preoccupied with so much in my own life and immediate family, to go beyond those horizons had felt like a bridge too far. I have had energy for governance work, for my volunteering and community leadership …. And that would be more than enough save for financing my future and some of the dreams that will need funds to bring to life.

My cave is dark, and has a few line drawings from prehistoric times on its walls. Like an explorer I am hold a torch to help cast and throw shadows to get around the space, searching for buried treasure or secrets to be revealed. Not everything I find is helpful or comforting, and with light the finds are uncovered, assessed, integrated. I am being coaxed to come into brighter light and back to work.

There is energy to create, interpret, engage, enable, facilitate and a reminder that I have everything I need. And indeed in the morning the sun was shining and I was going home and there were the early signs of my old work self emerging. I stared to think about the offerings and conversations of the week behind full of promise and possibility. Coupled with colleagues inviting me into a new space with my old toolkit, the saxophone called me out of my cave and into the light (and the dance floor). Grateful to my ears remaining open in the cave to help me hear the sax on Saturday night in a hall on the west coast.  Grateful for animate and inanimate instruments of joy calling me forward.

Baker Street
Winding your way down on Baker Street
Light in your head and dead on your feet
Well, another crazy day
You’ll drink the night away
And forget about everything
This city desert makes you feel so cold
It’s got so many people, but it’s got no soul
And it’s taken you so long
To find out you were wrong
When you thought it held everything
You used to think that it was so easy
You used to say that it was so easy
But you’re trying, you’re trying now
Another year and then you’d be happy
Just one more year and then you’d be happy
But you’re crying, you’re crying now
Way down the street there’s a light in his place
He opens the door, he’s got that look on his face
And he asks you where you’ve been
You tell him who you’ve seen
And you talk about anything
He’s got this dream about buying some land
He’s gonna give up the booze and the one-night stands
And then he’ll settle down
In some quiet little town
And forget about everything
But you know he’ll always keep moving
You know he’s never gonna stop moving
‘Cause he’s rolling, he’s the rolling stone
And when you wake up, it’s a new morning
The sun is shining, it’s a new morning
And you’re going, you’re going home
Baker Street lyrics © O/B/O Apra Amcos

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