Just like when I was on the beach today with my team, a day out in the glorious north east coast, at Whitley Bay/ Cullarcoats. Food was eaten, the sun was out, yes there was a westerly breeze.
Old me would have kept his shoes on. Old me was scared to feel. Old me would be afraid to enjoy himself. Old me would have stayed in his head. Old me would probably have told people off for taking their shoes off. Old me would have thought them childish.
Today, the sand on my feet belonged to me.
Today, I didnt care, and it was time to let my feet get covered in warm glorious sand.
And put my feet into the water.
Blue Sky meets the Crisp cold north sea.
Ripples of sand, water and sun dancing
And my feet part of it all
Feeling
To feel it, it had to be felt.
And I remember a time before.
When my head would prevent me from feeling, because it was safer that way.
Thats what denial, distraction, critical old me would have done. Anything to avoid feeling. Anything to stay in safe mode.
I used to live near the beach as well. For a whole year I would walk along the beach, in shoes or boots. They were my covid restrictive walks, along the sand, glorious…but..
watching others in the water
watching dogs run in and out
taking photos of the sea.
me walking along the sand, in boots, keeping my body clothing layers away from feeling.
scared to feel.
Until one day I decided to take off the shoes.
Until one day I realised it didnt matter if I got sand everywhere, or my feet wet or anything, because it didnt matter.
I wasnt going to get told off.
I didnt need permission
I could feel
I could run in. I could make splashes
I could get my t shirt wet
It was ok to feel.
It was safe to feel.
It wasnt enough to think about feeling. It wasnt enough to watch the water, to assess, judge or stay distance from it.
It wanted me to feel it, to feel its abandonment and life in it. Inviting me to freedom, requires feeling it, even just toes, just cold, just anything.
Joys are there to be felt.
Joys are there to be felt!
Thank you for reading!
My previous piece on Joy is here…it feels like it’s a thing!
Said my line manager to me early in the year, around January time, in the midst of a conversation we were having, she had ‘walked’ with me through the back end of last year.
And as she said it, I smiled even bigger, and deeper.
And she smiled back.
Joy
And it’s been the word of the week for me this week.
Joy.
Joy feels light
Joy dances
Joy emanates from being
Joy runs in the grasses and doesn’t care about the muddy shoes
Joy splashes in the puddles
Joy plays in wonder
Joy Joy Joy
Universal Joy
Joy attracts Joy
Joy radiates Joy
But what if
What if, Joy all along
What if I can now believe.. the truth
That God might delight in me
That God looks with joy in his soul
At my soul filled with Joy
And there is wonder in being?
May you learn to see yourself,
with the same delight,
pride and expectation
with which God sees you in every moment
(John O Donohue, Anam Cara)
God looks at you too.. believe his Joy for you
Joy, full aliveness
Wonder, bliss and love
Where shadows have been loved
And nothing scary lurks from within
Childlike Joy
Joy becomes, beyond definition
beyond picture or image
or explanation
Its felt
Trust it.
Trust Joy.
Joy longs for you, waits for you
Joy feels home
Heart smiling, beaming, dancing
to the tune of freedom, love and peace
Joy bubbles
Joy giggles
Joy abounds
Joy plays.
Joy gives, abundant and free… just receive it
Joy loves lightly
Joy lights in multi sensory colour, like a million fireflies, in a iridescent cave under rainbow skies
Joy finds us when we least expect it, but can’t be searched for
Joy, a gift, a treasure, awakened from the deep
When a soul smiles, at the joy of another
Joy, indescribable, beyond these words
Beyond any words
In the space between words, and worlds
Transcendental, Joy, the air floating to a higher plane
I was ‘playing’ this around in my mind the other day, and I started writing, just to myself.
I often write on paper, even with pencil, just to get thoughts out, to see where they flow to.
Free writing with a conceptual starting point if you will.
And I began to construct that what ‘I think’ and who ‘I am’ have been on a journey.
It could be ‘my ego’ and ‘my identity’ but I prefer to use ‘I think’ and ‘I am’ . I dont mean the ‘I am’ that self talks back the lies.. like ‘I am fat’ or ‘I am stupid’ .. I mean the ‘I am’ identity. The bit of me, the bit of you that is who you are.
So here goes…
I am, and I think are on a journey.
Its one where ‘I think’ has led the way, I think.
Historically.
Led like a shiny steam engine.
‘I am’ has been just been pulled along for the ride,
a set of carriages with passengers, scared inside.
or going to the depot, after a fraught ride.
I think, taking them away.
I am, passive.
At least thats how it was- I think
I think, shiny at the front, shiny and bright, brass cleaned,
numbered, fed, water and polished
The Steam engine, attracting the polaroids and DSLRs, and notebooks.
I think.. leading the way
I think.. wanting the attention
I think…racing away
I think..in control
I think…believing the hype
I think..denying it needed anything
I think…lies to get all this
I am.. just a powerless carriage trailing behind
hosting passengers, hosting scenes, hospitality
Trying to please, making the best of chaos.
Making the best of disconnection between I think, and I am.
I am, pulled along and subject to the conditions of I think
I am, second or third class, no power, just a shell.
I think broke down.
I think realised the race it was on, was to a finish line that never ended
I think had gone too far, alone
I think was never therefore I am
I am wants more control of the action
I am is feeling its way
I am has been waiting, patiently
Watching the chaos, overcoming the scares
Hiding, now seizing the chance, the opportunity
Realising that I think is in trouble.
I think and I am not separate.
I am with a voice on the journey
I am letting I think know differently
Its now a different journey, with I am the driver.
I am has discovered, that it is
I am has emerged from the shadows, the sidings
I am can see the lies, pride and attention
The temptations and weaknesses that tormented I think
I am…. just knows
I am..is softer, messier, truer
Human, grease, smoke, heart and skin
its not a carriage to the engine
Alive.
I am now sees the whole Train
I am can see when I think plunges into darkness
or tries to race to destinations, frustrated or impatient, or critical of the passengers for being slow, or ignoring the signals.
I am can let I think know that it is loved.
I am is the driver, who knows what I think actually needs.
The brake. the coal, the water
And rest.
Attention from the inside of the boiler. Not just the outside.
The driver knows.
I am.
I think wrestled at first and tried to do without I am.
I feel intervenes now and then, the guard with the warning flags, messages from the back. I think knows its place..some of the time.
I think used to completely ignore I feel. Disregarded at the back of the carriage.
Guard in name only.
I am takes more of the wheel
I think can rest, its not on his own.
It doesn’t have to hurry or win.
I think trusts I am.
I think surrenders, to the I am that drives, attends and controls, to the I am that feels and knows. To the I am that discovered itself, found its place and realises it has to stay.
I am helps I think to doubt the lies it had to believe, and those it chose to
I am can help I think to realise the importance of I feel.. the guard
I am can speak softly to I think, and listen to what it needs and wants to say.
Because I am is connected to all.
I am knows. I am is.
I am is the divine within.
I think I am, therefore I am.
Maybe this is helpful just to me, as I realise the journey that I have been on, one from which was dominated by my thoughts, my thinking part of me, and how every other part of me was hidden and disregarded, for reasons ive described in my story above. And now I feel, that I am, and I think is still around, but the journey, just feels and is different.
What about you – what metaphor might you use for how your thoughts, feelings and identity have culminated in your life?
You get your intuition back when you make space for it, when you stop the chattering of the rational mind
The rational mind doesn’t nourish you.
You assume that it gives you the truth, because the rational mind is the golden calf that this culture worships , but this is not true.
Rationality squeezes out much that is rich and juicy and fascinating.
Sometimes intuition needs coaxing, because intuition is a little shy.
But if you try not to crowd it, intuition often wafts up from the soul or subconscious, and then becomes a tiny fitful little flame.
It will be blown about about by too much compulsion and manic attention, but will burn quietly when watched with gentle concentration
Anne Lamott, Bird By Bird (1994)
What has it meant to me, to let my soul speak?
What does it mean to you
That spark from the well of the soul
Warmth, energy, power, from within
Tentative
What has it meant to me to hide my inner voice for so long, to have the rational mind needfully take over for my own survival. Rational mind to survive. Intuition and inner voice to nourish. Theres a big difference.
What do you think? What do you feel? What colour is your intuition when it emerges from within?
I’d rather pretend the shit didn’t exist thank you very much
I’d rather add a whole layer of other stuff on top of it
I’d rather pretend that the shit was actually roses without any thorns
I’d rather do avoid the shit, and run and hide away
I’d rather distract from the shit
Id rather bypass the shit and say it was just God’s plan for me to endure
I’d rather keep busy that sit with it.
I’d rather cover it up with comforting food
Or hope that entertainment soothes it
Or scroll on Facebook to take on even more, or get annoyed at something else
Or go to a football match or do some exercise to ‘get the anger out’
I can’t allow it to settle
That would mean accepting
Feeling it, smelling it
Sensing it in its fullest sense
Realising that it exists
And it has affected me
And I feel sad, I feel angry, I feel hurt,I feel..what ever this dose of shit makes me feel
Rage, hurt, tears, coming out, from amidst the shit
And then
The voice from within that says, you are not the shit
I am not the shit, I am bigger than it
I let it, but it isn’t devouring me, I can feel it, look at it, and realise that I am me, and the shit isn’t me
Even if I am in it or have been given it
It’s not a place to want to stay and now that I’ve felt it, I can move away
And not keep it buried, hidden or avoided to come back to..and deal with, another day. Piling more and more above it
Naming it, feeling it, sensing it, letting it settle, and be
And breathe, and know, that I am more, I am bigger, I can see
That there’s a way out, that I can take, and in the quiet of nothing
That voice , that me, is waiting to speak, and heal, repair and recover, rebuild and remake
And Ill look at the shit one day from a different place, and realise how far I am from it, and I needn’t look back, because I dealt with it once, twice or many
Clean air awaits, entices and breathes, it’s fresh and it’s pure, green grass in the fields awaiting our feet
It’ll only feel good when I haven’t cheated, and try to enjoy it with a bag full of shit, I’m still carrying around, or buried deep, hoping never to be found.
Letting it settle and letting it be
Is part of the way of making me free.
(thank you to Gabriella Russo on Facebook for the image)
James Ballantyne 