The fun of the firsts

The sun is shining! It’s not the first time this year but it sure has spent a lot of time hidden behind the rain dropping clouds. Sometimes such prolonged periods of sun obscuring cloudiness can make it hard to keep trusting the sun will shine again. Until it does.

I love this time of year. No matter how many times I’ve seen it all before, the firsts of the season never fail to elicit involuntary gasps of excitement. From the first time I finish with a client at 6pm to discover upon opening my cabin door that it is still daylight, to the first green shoots of new life, to the masses of other sense stirring sightings. I simply love to watch the world awaken.

I’ve now had my first trip of the year to the sea which did not fail to deliver on the scenery or the restoration front. Instead of pushing myself to do big walks, I allowed myself to do much meandering. I sat on a conveniently placed log on the beach where I selected various coloured stones for use in my practice. When I wasn’t on the beach, I sat directly in front of it in various food serving establishments. Within the comfort of these I relished all that I saw and all the scoff that I ordered. What bliss.

Back home, I’ve had my first brew in the garden and my first meal in the garden both while enjoying the sun’s warmth on my skin. I’ve also had my first sighting of the flowers that I planted as seeds last Autumn as well as the return of the hosta I feared I had killed off last year. I love witnessing new life.

On the not so fun but fulfilling-on-completion front, I gave the lawn its first haircut. It’s already grown back with a vengeance and a large smattering of daisies. This means I can now engage in one of my favourite resting activities; watching the daisies grow. I want to indulge in more of this during my year of learning to rest better.

I’ve now had not only my first but also second and third bike rides of the year all of which reminded me that I love surveying the scenery as I cycle.

While it’s not the first time it still gives me an embarrassing amount of enjoyment to watch my washing dancing itself dry on the line. Boring but true!

I’ve also spotted a super large bumble bee that feeds from the flowers just outside my window. Today is the first time that that I’ve swapped my inside table for the outside table, to act as my workstation. While working outside, I also spotted my first butterfly of the season; a pale yellow one. And I’m wearing a hat for shade rather than warmth.

How I love the great outdoors with all its reminders of beginnings, endings and the bits in the middle.

Unblocked

Last Friday as I lay in bed, I became aware that I was anticipating the alarm minus the dread that had accompanied me over the past few months. While savouring this new reality, I noticed a beautiful chorus of birdsong just beyond my window. It sounded so clear and beautiful. This has been one of my favourite sounds for a long time as it always makes me think of God. I can’t remember how this association came about. I just know there have been multiple times when I’ve been struggling, and the sound of birdsong has somehow reminded me that God is ever-present. This makes me feel less alone even when I am, or if I’m with others but feeling alone. Despite not remembering the reason for this, the comfort giving connection between God and birdsong, remains.

As I reflected on this during my morning run, I remembered a time when I was in a dark place internally, yet on a bright sunny beach. As I fought back the tears that were threatening, I suddenly noticed the birds singing. This baffled me as there were no trees in sight. I don’t think a bird has to be in a tree to sing (although I’m not entirely sure of their multi-tasking abilities) but I couldn’t even see any birds. Yet, I could clearly hear birdsong which in turn, settled something inside me. This reminds me of the God I can sometimes hear but usually can’t see, aside from his artistry in nature.

While birdsong reminds me of God’s presence, I remain acutely aware of the times when it seems like God is absent, deaf or has gotten too competitive during a game of hide and seek. I’ve felt this a lot in recent years. And no matter how much I have complained/whined/begged/sulked or prayed for Him to speak to me and tell me what to do, I’ve often heard nothing back. And it’s taken longer than I would like to admit that I may have been guilty of that thing us humans can do when we are so convinced we know what someone is going to say, that we fail to hear their actual words (especially when strong emotions are present). But eventually, as my desperation settled, I sensed Him say,

‘I’m not asking you to ‘do’ more, I’m asking you to ‘be’ more.’

And then it hit me. It wasn’t God who had gone deaf, done a runner and, or needed His ears syringing! 

As I looked back over the previous few years, I began to recognise that my body’s repeated pleas for rest had fallen on my ‘unwilling to hear them’ ears.  I knew that I kept hearing about the business of ‘being’ but I wasn’t really registering it. In fact, after a retreat last year, I had what was clearly a fleeting realisation that I needed to update my motto of, ‘I’ll just do that job and then I’ll stop and be’, to ‘I’ll just leave that job and practising being now’.

Unfortunately, new insights rarely travel down far enough to reach the feet or thus the steps when I fail to allow any time for them to settle in enough to come out in practice. Ugh.

As a conversation with a fellow counsellor highlighted, we may well be professional noticers in the lives of others, but we can be equally professional non-noticers in our own lives. Hence the importance of surrounding ourselves with others who notice what we resist noticing in ourselves, even if we then refuse to hear them!

Although my system was trained in excess doing at a young age, I am now attempting to become a recovering ‘over-do-er’ and a practicing ‘how to be-more-er’. Or in more honest words, my body has reached the point where it will no longer take no for an answer when it needs to rest. It has made repeated interventions during the past few years to force me to slow down and at times, stand still. Last year I imagined I’d got the message about reduced doing and increased being, but what followed suggested otherwise.

Just after I wrote about the need to slow down, I was forced to do just that by long covid. I hadn’t even realised that this could occur two to four weeks after an initial covid infection, especially when the body’s reserves are already depleted. This meant I was totally blindsided by the sensory-dulling, joy-culling, cognitive functioning quashing symptoms. I was dumbfounded and desperate to know what was going on and more importantly, how to make it stop. Yet no matter how hard I resented and resisted the debilitating symptoms, I eventually realised that it was me, who had to stop, if I wanted to recover.

After weeks of enduring the misery inducing symptoms of long covid, I relented and began to give my body the rest it needed. It is now rewarding me with the re-awakening of my senses to the wonders of the world around. How grateful I am.

However, perhaps my body wasn’t convinced I had heard it for just as I got back on my post covid feet, I experienced a knock-me-off-my-feet-nausea. Apparently, this was probably due to a blocked ear although it could also be part of perimenopause or long covid. Time will tell.

Either way, now that the blocked ear has been unblocked, my awareness of birdsong has been heightened. And my capacity for appreciation, enhanced.

When the ear was unblocked, I couldn’t resist looking at the cause of the blockage. It was a surprisingly small, hard, plug that had hindered my ability to hear. I wondered whether I had a also hardened my heart to block hearing God or my body saying something I didn’t want to hear… STOP, BE, REST & RECOVER. Afterall, I had so many plans for these past few years, virtually none of which have materialised. As a serial overdo-er, this left me feeling like a failure. And yet my real failure was not listening to or giving my body what it needed.

Perhaps I need to listen better and put what I hear in to practice especially around mastering the art of this thing they call pacing. As a friend recently reminded me (over tea and cake, obviously), when we approach or pass the half century mark, we must recognise that our bodies can no longer do what they used to. Neither can we continue to ignore their needs, limitations or warnings in the way we may have got away with when we were younger.

As my partner reminds me,

‘Every day is a school day Jo-Jo’.

If only I could learn to be a better, more consistent student.

Ps, God, as I know you are listening even it feels like you’re not, this is NOT a request for more problems!