No one questions why someone is sitting,
Empty handed,
By themselves,
At the sea.
We know.
At the sea,
We understand
this act of
Being
with one’s thoughts.
But.
Bizarrely.
Doing that in a cafe in London makes
people will think you’re a weirdo.
Brighton Beach, 26.5.19
Thick,
fluffy,
white bread,
sliced by your soft old hands.
Toasted,
golden brown,
reminding me of crunchy autumn leaves.
Wearing a heavy coat of yellow butter like a duvet,
giving comfort,
and warmth,
and homeliness.
A satisfying crunch and warm butter flooding my mouth,
awakening my taste buds,
and stirring my heart
with warmth that transcends temperature…
This evening,
the weather is mild,
but my heart is cool.
And for the first time in near two decades,
I crave the comfort of your toast…
And you.
A short note musing on my walk to work a few weeks ago…go with it.
Walking,
hurriedly,
texting,
music listening,
walking,
work-thinking,
absentmindedly
putting my hands in my pocket and
Realising:
I wasn’t aware of what
coat I was wearing.
Sobered.
Needing to ground myself
I STOP.
Putting aside thoughts of what others
think of this woman stopping mid pavement,
just standing…
looking at a plant.
I look at the leaves,
appreciate the green,
the light on its leaves,
frayed browning edges
and vibrant green,
I still my thoughts
and body
and just LOOK
For a minute.
I pick a small leaf and walk on
Slowlyyyy.
Looking at the leaf,
feeling its grooves,
Grounding myself by focussing.
Feeling more steady.
More present.
More Me.
Leaf on my desk,
I glance at my talisman through the day…
My reminder to breathe.
And be.
My heart stilled and swelled
upon seeing blossom trees
and daffodils
in this secret garden.
Cherishing a few snatched
minutes of stillness,
in and with myself,
I picked a bent daffodil;
a keepsake of this Gift to me.
My face turned upwards,
to the bright,
clear,
white
sky
hanging over me like a banner.
My eyes closed;
My heart full
with
gratitude,
love,
and
the pain of longing for you Grandad,
who loved daffodils so.
My spirit open,
with hope of what will be painted
on the blank sky that is
the open canvas of my life
for this year ahead,
As my ears fill with the swell of birdsong.
Yesterday evening, for a WILD Friday night, I had my first counselling session. It’s been a long time coming. And I found a therapist I related to, who gets my comments about gender and race and keeps up with my flicking between received pronunciation and street language. A therapist who is REAL, in her gold reeboks, natural black-girl hair & statement t-shirt!
So 50minutes of ranting/ mature sharing later and I’m feeling ‘yep, I could work with you’…. and then the price was shared. Pow! The tears which had been building as I’d so freely shared my anger & pain spilled out. Cos it felt like a door that was opening had suddenly slammed shut!
Fast forward five minutes, as I came to the bottom of the stairs of her office I saw that the cosy waiting room was empty (cos y’know, it was FRIDAY NIGHT!)… so I walked to it to sit, cry, pray, & process.
AND THEN I SAW THIS: a Sunflower painting.
And I knew. This is my place. This is my counsellor. This is my God / the wall (delete according to your theistic belief!) confirming it to me. Saying ‘I see you, I’ve led you here, trust and proceed’. To add a little context, my nickname is Sunflower. But it’s more than a nickname. My being is Sunflower. I am Sunflower. So I sat, cried, listened to soothing music & prayed: I will go forward & TRUST the money & timings will work out. As sunflowers move to follow the sun, I’ll keep moving into this space that’s been offered, following the sun & helping to put the shadows behind me.
A car-park poem. (Got your attention!)
I sketched this after three minutes just standing in the car park outside my work building last Thursday. Such was my need for sun on my face and soul.
A deep, visceral need.
By myself, eyes closed, just standing.
NLB
face towards the sun,
feet planted firmly.
Wind blowing,
whole body shaking,
feet planted firmly;
shaking not falling.
Face towards the sun,
eclipsed by the passing cloud,
Sun re-revealed,
smile spreading,
sun blessing.
Feet planted firmly,
face towards the sun,
as clouds and wind blow.
This is a hard week. Of a hard period.
I’m struggling with feeling flat, my sparkle is gone and my smile – MY smile – is lost; my usually instant, beaming, deep, radiant smile is sluggish & dimmed.
I feel I’m in a period of emotional, spiritual, relational & physical unpeeling. It feels like life is a sea where some days waves constantly splash salty water in my face. Some days I’m sitting on the shore with my ankles in the wet sand, stuck, while everyone else is swimming. And some days, the days I’m myself, I’m enjoying gently paddle boarding, floating in the sunshine, my heart JOYED by the beauty of the shimmer on the water.
Today was a salty wave day. It was hard.
BUT as with the days before this… I showed up! I felt great singing & leading praise music at work this morning (yep, Christian places do that-at work!) – then my emotions & brain capacity went up and down like a chapati-rising one moment then flat as a chapati (or a pancake!) the next. Flattened & lifted & flattened more & lifted & flattened (you get the picture!).
This period gives me the choice – of hiding behind pride or of pursuing the path of Radical Vulnerability. I choose the latter. So in today’s greyness I wore my face as a mirror of my inner self-flat, empty, dull. Not ‘my face’- no NLB smile or glow today folks. And that’s OK. I’m being authentic and congruent.
And I’m being open with my beloveds (& now with YOU too!). I reached out to my Husband, Caramel Sister & Work Wife, sharing my flatness & asking for prayer. And WOW-the opportunities to receive grace that being honest gave me!! The kindness of loaned headphones so I could be lifted by music-my heart language & salve-as I worked! The perfectly timed deep hug & tearful chat. The food & homemade fairy-cake set aside for me. The gentle, slow-paced meeting with my manager & help from a kind colleague. And the ping of email to tell me of a ‘delivery’ at reception, bringing my first ME smile of the day when I saw the surprise delivery of flowers from my husband to bring a ‘little spark & smile’ to my day.
I’m not out of the emotionally thick woods yet (to mix my sea & land analogies!).
But my heart is not dull. It is warmed. I am so loved and liked just as I am. I have enough energy & contentment for the evening. And my home smells like flowers.
