There’s a light rain, on a bracing October morning in the Oceanside region. It’s Thanksgiving weekend in Canada. I chose to stay on the island, rather than trek back to the mainland. There’s an air of strangeness and uncertainty this month that made me feel it wiser to stay put.
Tag: self compassion
Seagulls, other birds and sea lions call across the misty morning waters. Geese enter from the north. Two herons quietly soar by, not too high over the shore. Silent giants.
The clock in the square strikes a happy chime signaling 10am, then curiously shifts to a monotonous, somber bell to count out the hours. Even the clock seems to be disaffected by the persistent agitation that is covid, sighing as it goes through the motions, perhaps emptied of the usual spirit that would fill the space here with communal bustle and hubbub. The fountain nearby splashes meditatively, layering a touch of white noise onto the atmosphere.
For a long time, I used to be calculating with how and when I would give or share my love, energy and attention. “What about my needs?” would inevitably creep in to my otherwise genuinely generous state of mind, degrading and demoting a caring presence into a transaction. “This is a one-way relationship…me to them. It’s all about them.” is another frequent scarcity-based belief, a condition, a program I’ve learned is not my own. I borrowed it at some point, and it has poisoned my process, my beingness, my authenticity in critical moments.
It is time for something new, in all areas of our existential story. We’ve been wearing out our hearts and minds cycling around and battling against the same old paradigms and patterns for long enough. Be aware. Be open. Be honest. Be ready.