Tag: self-copmpassion

I had expectations for today.

Last Saturday I was working, today I am not.

When I was out walking during the week I was talking to a dog walker who was telling me about the Otters in Darlington on the main Skerne river, saying that the best time to see them was in the mornings. So I thought.

Ill get up fairly early, walk along the river, take some lovely photos of Otters, and this will be magical, and then head to my favourite coffee spot in town to then do some writing on my book.

So I did get up earlyish, after a not a bad nights sleep, ate breakfast and walked into town.

And along the river, from town all the way into South Park. And guess what.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Well, no otters anyway. No magic miracle for me today.

How long to wait? not very, just a walk down the river and back. No movements into the water (by anything different than a Mallard) and no movements in the bushes different to pigeons, doves, blue tits and a wren skuttling around.

So I left.

Disappointed.

And I got to my writing cafe in a low mood. Frustrated.

I mean, nature should be rewarding me for my efforts to find it surely?

Thats how it works?

And then I would feel the blessings of this magic moment and be inspired to write all day and do some great creativity. But instead I am writing this.

I am writing this, after I spent an hour just journaling about disappointment, and getting close to it.

Getting close to disappointment.

Unmet resentments, I deserved better from nature this morning, didnt I?

It’s not fair?

I was looking for a quick win, a solution

What was being shown to me, was another opportunity to just let be, to feel.

To not give the world the responsibility of adhering to my needs and wants, for the thing to be ‘the thing’

If only I saw an Otter then id be happy this morning?

If only X then Y

If my team wins, then that will give me a lift – that was basically my soothing strategy since 1990

along with the classic ‘ If only I prayed harder, or louder, then this would make things better’

But these are all shortcuts.

Bypasses.

So I sat in the cafe this morning. Writing out my pretty petty disappointment.

And heard that voice again.

That reminder of being loved and love not because of anything in the world, but because I just am. No-thing matters.

A reminder to let go, to surrender, to the patience of the magic.

The patience of self kindness, self compassion, of the journey of inner mystery and wholeness.

To let love inside win, its slow acts of healing.

There are no shortcuts.