2022 feels like a positive set of numbers, which maybe means much ‘negative’ will emerge… ya know, polarity and all that jazz. Confusing? Yes. Let’s be totally honest, most beginning of the year stuff is… confusing fluff.
Because we’re the we we were in 2021 and we’re taking that self into another set of 12 months. It’s ALL constructed anyway. I do love the concept of maths. The constructive element of existence, it just confuses the hell outta me. I was always crap at math through school purely because no-one ever explained that maths is art in embryo. Or art is math in embryo. Either way, there really is no separation between the sciences and arts, it’s just different energy waves exploring plausible explanations for perceived realities. If this had been explained at school, I’d have paid more attention. Take geometry, I LOVE it. I don’t get it but I love it.
So no resolutions this year, I stopped that years ago. I feel certain energetics coming through, generally a result of past year experiences. Community, experiential living, joy, deepening my devotion to God and diving deeper into the teachings of Jesus. The last two I know will manifest. The will be a consequence. But really, who knows. Divine Will isn’t mine.
The truth is the more unified I feel, the less excited I get. This sounds weird to me. I thought I’d turn every corner and be filled with excited joy at my love for life. The total opposite?!? Maybe I’m having some dark night of the soul, I’m feeling many things but excited isn’t one of those many.
Grace and gratitude. I’m full. It’s not as pretty and neat as I thought it would feel. To be honest, the more I meditate, the more lost and distant I feel. I guess that’s all coming with me into 2022.
Happy New Year. Cheers to the confusing and bewildering months ahead 😉
I’ve been ‘trying’ for years. Literally, the past 10 years I’ve had in my head ‘I want to write a book’. I’ve tried. Many occasions, many ideas, many notebooks, many drafts, many hours and many word counts later… no book.
Am I approaching this whole book writing malarkey the wrong way? I’ve an ADHD brain and more often than not, that means doing things a little differently to how we’ve been taught, the ‘how to‘ doesn’t always apply to an ADHDer as it’s gotta utterly click. I can’t persevere. I’m not lazy, not all but I can’t just grit my teeth and get through it. I’ve tried that approach also and it sucks the life outta me. Why the fudge am I taking something that I love and making a hard to chew, fibrous meal out of it.
So, a new approach I shall try.
Firstly, word count. I was aiming at 1000 words with every sit down. I’m taking that pressure off the list as I’d not bother to even sit down and try if I felt failure before I began. Let’s take 1000 to 500 and if I manage 100, that’s bloody brilliant too as if those 100 words were 100 pounds, I’d be more than happy to see that accumulate over time.
Secondly, distractions. Im gonna get distracted. There is no way that I can sit for 2 hours and not get the urge to move or do something else quickly to shift attentions. So, let’s celebrate the distractions as part of the process, part of the flow. Maybe that distraction is allowing an idea to marinate. Maybe I need to move in order to allow a newness, a fresh sense of perspective to inspire my writing.
Which flows into thirdly, it needs to feel alive. Something I’m learning about the way I work creatively is that what comes through me has to feel like it’s got a life of it’s own. It’s breathing. A current that wants to move me and others in a very embodied and present way. The writing almost needs to feel like an organism that beats to its own drum. That without me, it still breathes and I’m purely channelling what’s already dancing around the ether. Basically the ideas are not mine but I give them life, in only a way I can, just as each artist has their stroke and each writer has their style, it’s all valid but there’s a uniqueness to explore within divine expression.
And with that, I know I’m to start on something new. I’ve been churning old stories over and over and it’s sat a little flat on the page. I can’t seem to let go of ‘but I wrote 30,000 words on this story’ and it’s been like a fudging chain. I can write 30,000 words again, or maybe I won’t and that’s ok too. Maybe I’ll write 15,000 and that will be enough, maybe.
Leap of faith! Whatever needs to come through, will come through (let’s make it good though 😅). Let’s get honest too, what do I actually want to write about, not what I think would look good on the page. That’s a flipping scary thought. Art is truth and that ain’t always pretty!
If I need to lay bare, I need to lay bare. HUGE respect for all the creatives who live their art and their art breathes life into others. Yes, I think I’m ready to step out of the safety box, I think.
That’s the role meditation is playing in my life right now. Breaking the continuous chatter of ‘holy wow, it’s all going to sh*t’.
And meditation also gives me the space to unpack that phrase I just wrote as ‘going to sh*t’… why is that bad? We all gotta poop and if we didn’t poop we’d die. And pooping is releasing what our bodies don’t need or toxins etc… so technically pooping is ESSENTIAL! So, if everything is ‘going to sh*t’… its being let go.
Letting go is HARD yet not really that hard at the same time. We do it, all day long. Our bodies do it. Our cells do it. Our mind is switching when we find new distractions, letting go of a previous thought – and yea, it may pop back again but in those moments we’re not in that thought, we’re not in that thought.
And we think too much, right? Because it’s a habit, an expression of energy that seems to find an output through thought, because maybe our bodies have forgotten ways to move through it. Or maybe we never had this amount of excess running through our systems because excess wasn’t so much a thing until it became the norm, celebrated even! I mean, I don’t know. I know very little. And when I pray for relief, I hear MEDITATE! And at first I was like ‘nah, that’s a lot of work doing very little’ and ignored, ignored, ignored. Until..
I had no choice.
And that’s what this pandemic has done for me. Given me zero choices other than to go deeper into my meditation practice. Now, it’s my circuit breaker. Instead of reaching for the remote control to switch out of myself by watching something, anything that feeds what I’m feeling, I sit.
I feel this blog is becoming more of a faith exploration space. Not my initial intention when I began writing this blog but… well that’s evolution for you. And once the flow begins and ya jump on board the…board, well ya go where the tide takes you I guess.
Faith feels the most real and important ‘thing’ for me at the moment. A depth, a sweetness if you like, soaking into… like I’m sat in sugar water and my skin is doing what skin does well, absorbing. And I could jump outta the sugar water, it gets a little damp and hot and sticky and funky smelling if I don’t move for a while, but I don’t. I can’t maybe. Because in this sweetness I get glimpses of what it feels like to be delicious. I feel entirely engrossed and porous, which can get somewhat overpowering but the reality is, is better than what’s outside.
It’s scary, right. This apocalyptic feeling, worn on the cuffs of all of us, hidden by the usual veil, left hand ignoring what the right is doing.
But the ignoring is becoming harder and feelings of security outside of myself are dying. There’s no where to place a foot, a rooting within society right now. And I guess the true reality is, there never has been. The veil is thinning, as it does before a mass contraction. Are the waters about to break?
And the questions come. When I feel I have an answer, the question comes. It’s topsy-turvy and it’s not how school taught us. Question to answer… nope… answer to question.
Outside to understand what’s going on inside… nope… inside and understand nothing (and get used to it)
This is more of a pondering post… but then is that what we do, daily. Ponder. We hold onto weather reports like they are our totality, until eternity. And we know how quickly the weather can change.
So Q’s to my A’s, they just keep coming. And the sweet waters, they keep me hydrated even though I’m feeling a little prune-y 🙂
I’m a forgetful being. I’ve found other people who are forgetful REALLY annoying because… darn it… I’ve seen myself in them but DENIAL!
I literally can think something in the morning and it’s bloody brilliant. Like the BEST idea I’ve ever had. ‘This is so fudging good, I’ll get cracking on this later’…
‘What was I doing this morning? Is that the time? Now what? What was I doing yesterday at at this time?’
And so continues my life.
Am I alone in this? No, appears not. And it took an ADHD ‘diagnosis’ to delve into what this meant and literally ALL the struggles common with ADHDers.
And I thought I was different! Yet I didn’t wanna be different, at the same time I was also ‘no one else thinks like me, I’m the ONLY one who understands’. And in that victim mode I could get really annoyed at people for living in their chaos because, ya know, I was different. I was controlled. I didn’t forget anything, I just had a unique way of not remembering things.
And I am unique. Just not so flipping up my own arse to think my chaos isn’t spilling out, because it is and was. And I care less now, kinda. But it took some therapist to say ‘yes, you’re combined ADHD’ for the permission to be more me.
And that’s sad, and shows a lot about the society we live in and how I’ve adapted my tribal brain to want to ‘fit’ by being less me and more ‘them’ (whoever the hell them is!).
I’m forgetful. Totally and utterly forgetful. And I gotta write stuff down in order to get shit done. I’m learning more about my chaotic self. Just the way God made me. Thank you God!
ADHD. The research has been intense, to the point where I’m like ‘wait, what am I actually trying to figure out here’. I lost the thread. I’m learning the pattern, my consistency in forgetting why I’m doing something or why I started and never ‘finishing’. Basically because I forgot – I dropped the firewood so I had free hands to go get more.
And is this such a big deal? According to society, yes.
The pressure I’ve put on myself to finish. And why? Because I’m not productive enough? I’m not progressing in a way I was told humans are supposed to? When I think about school, I remember the windows because I focused my attention towards and outta them, a lot. Noticing cloud formation and zoning into outside, that came easy. I was told I zoned out, but actually I was plugging myself in. The natural world settled something super primal within. I didn’t think that deeply into it then but as I still stare at the sky, I realise just how pacifying it is.
Retaining facts and figures, I just didn’t and still don’t give a shit about it.
and why is that important? Because when I stared outside, I got in trouble. “You’re focusing on the wrong thing!” But my brain didn’t think so. And why was my focus of attention wrong over someone who adores maths or logical thinking. AND the struggle has been REAL trying to focus on stuff that I truthfully don’t care about just because I wanted to ‘get’ somewhere. BUT that left me feeling so fucking stationary (and stationary SUCKS).
So in my deep-end dunk into ADHD, I came across a concept about ADHDers having a hunter gatherer brain. Wait, what!? Something clicked.
Movement, noticing tiny detail but not having to focus for too long, small sounds sounding MEGA (because that’s how you hear prey or predators), more movement, craving the danger and adventure (otherwise you’d never flipping go into the wild to find your food), intense focus from one thing to another to another in a super small time frame (checking your surroundings, what’s safe? What’s not?).
I’m adding here I’ve checked Instagram three times since beginning this piece and and also switched up my Spotify playlist.
And ya know what… I’m not even gonna give myself a hard time about it. I’m a fucking hunter, gathering for my tribe and my tribe need me.
There are so many ways we can reframe the beliefs about ourselves and the way we ‘fit’. My ADHD ‘diagnosis’ has been a revelation, in that I can dive more deeply and honestly into what works for me and what I’ve been doing that’s actually left me totally flat (which is a lot!).
The unexpected path… a dream for this wild hunter 🙂
A picture of me active in my favourite pastime… you’re welcome.
The last few months…who am I kidding, the last 18 months, has got me assessing what freedom actually means, to me. I’ve not thought too much about freedom before as I realise the super privilege position I’ve been in. I’ve lived a life, be it not always within mental dynamics, that’s felt on the most part, free.
I could decided upon where to go and with who. Yes, I know we can get woven into relationships that once explored can have us questioning just how free we are around certain people, but without the intensity of that exploration, we can mainly choose our people.
So much has happened during this pandemic to send our nervous systems into a spin. Control has been taken away, we’ve been told how to behave and where to go and with who (or with no-one) and death, we’re exposed to figures and realisations, every day. I know you know this, we’re ALL in this. These experiences are not individual. This trauma has not just been affecting the separate self. It never has but we’ve liked to think it was. For centuries the notion of communicating our struggles and fears was kept ‘secret’. And as the world has begun to open up, due to whatever reason (social media, global connectivity etc) about just how complex and uniting our personal struggles are, we witness many of our anxieties and human responses to environmental stressors are indeed, shared. And now this global pandemic, this shared experience of restrictions and fear and doing things we’d have shook our head to a few years ago. Not only are we all in it, but we’re talking about it, globally, and maybe this is the most exposed we’ve ever been to collective trauma as information is instant now, from all corners of the world.
Within these restrictions and difficulties of feeling personal choices not being so personal anymore, something incredibly expansive has happened, personally (and probably to many others too).
My faith has strengthened, big style! My relationship with God is my favourite. My meditation practice has also lengthened (because there was literally fuck all else to do!) and I’m not sure I would have found out about my ADHD brain if I’d not had such an intense time of reflection. I live with my folks, and as a 39 year old living with both her parents, the struggle has been REAL. It’s also been super healing and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so whole and surrendered as I do now.
I can’t even explain it as I’m under no illusion, I know shit is gonna get tougher . We’re not outta the woods, and maybe we never will be. Maybe humans are supposed to be in the overgrowth. With the trees and ferns and weird bacteria that live on EVERYTHING and because we can’t see it, we forget it’s there.
I know the mystics talk about freedom being within our faith. Within our relationship with God. And boy, does it take a leap of faith to say ‘God, I know NOTHING. You do. Show me.’ And then you’re shown this shit show of ‘difficulty’ because you weren’t flipping listening and you begin to listen and then this incredible thing happens… we get dunked into unexplainable freedom for literally a few moments until it’s gone again. Yet I have more and more faith it’ll be back, when God sees fit.
So freedom, it’s a funny thing. I feel so grateful to live in a time when restrictions from government still includes access to lattes and fresh fruit and chocolate (for now, anyway). I’ve not starved and my home has been a safe haven, which I know for many is not the case. Not even sure I care that I can’t go to many places as my brain doesn’t like too much choice anyway, it’s chaotic enough without adding more decisions! So I’m lucky. I’m privileged to be able to reflect upon freedom as the act of reflection itself and the time to do so is, in my eyes, freedom.
So, maybe my freedom hadn’t been taken away at all. I got to see just how flipping lucky I am to say ‘I can’t so this right now but I will. For now, I meditate’… as I write this, I’m becoming utterly aware of just how free I actually am.
All you need is Love. God is Love. Return to Love. We are Love. Love is our eternal being. I LOVE you.
And I love the word Love but what am I loving? The concept of love is super appealing, isn’t it. That we are beings radiating an energy that EVERY ONE is aspiring to feel or to be. That when we Love, it’s smooth. It’s a ride we’ve been lining up for our whole lives. We spend time, money, effort, we dedicate ourselves, often without conscious thought to this concept of Love and being in it or being it.
WHAT IS IT? Because I’m betting it means something for you that it doesn’t for me. And the feeling of it when we meet someone and we say those words, I love you, that’s tangible, isn’t it. It’s almost something we can touch and taste and the feeling is beyond overwhelming. Love songs and romcoms and poetry, we mostly resonate with the attraction thing. Lust, right. It gets in the way, or it is the way. I dunno but I fucking love lusting. I also know it’s not what we’re taught in spiritual teachings Love to be.
God is Love. Now, that’s not so tangible. And ALL the Love references in New Age stuff and quotes that float the internet like feathers in the breeze. That’s muddier. I get it, unconditional love. Really though, have we EVER loved unconditionally? Is it an unattainable concept… and is that the point, make it totally unattainable for the human and they’ll spend their whole lives feeling crap as they’re never quite getting ‘there’. Talk about guilt. Not just a catholic thing, huh.
And to not love things, material stuff as much as you love an idea, a concept, well they both feel as empty as each other if I’m honest.
So, what does Love mean?
Is it so fluid that it’s not meant to mean any more than it means to you in the moment you’re feeling it. And is it an expression, a momentary need, like when we graze ourselves and we scab. Love is the scabbing, the protection as cells come together and heal.
Love heals. We’re not in states of Love all the time. I can get so flipping angry some days and that’s bloody healing too. Anger heals. Imagine that. To not be afraid of anger, to see it as vital as Love. Is Love conditioning as we’re less likely to lash out. Less likely to disrupt others. To question. Oh, to question. Love is blind.
Humans have created the word Love. And like everything we create, it’s open to interpretation. I’ve Loved so hard I would fight for it. I’ve Loved so hard I would crack and die a little if I didn’t have it anymore. And I have. So, maybe Love is the container with ALL the other emotions. Or maybe Love is whatever the fuck you want it to be.