Art by Joan Miro
Over the weekend I attended a seminar on “Writing in therapy” with a small group of kind-hearted people. Through expressive writing exercises, we shared stories of our experience of life in lockdown and beyond... ⠀
The isolation and the vulnerability. And, also, our increased attentiveness to the small moments of beauty, grace and connection. If I could weave our collective stories into a central message, it would essentially be this: ⠀
I have been tossed by the waves in many a storm, and yet, here I stand: soft and scarred, bruised and luminous.⠀
This pandemic continues to remind me that what I thought was "secure" or stable is actually always subject to the Great Mystery and inevitable cycles of change. It’s our inner resources that really come to the fore in these times.
The mystic, Meister Eckhart, alluded to this when he once said, “What is it that remains? That which is inborn in me remains.”
What remains for me is:
Love and Beauty.
Story and Ritual.
Soul and Mystery.
When all else has been pared back, what remains for you? What are the pillars of your interior life? And what strength can you draw from these in this time?
With endless cups of rooibos and flourishing fiddle figs,
// Things fall apart by Chinua Achebe
// Lanny by Max Porter
// Demian by Herman Hesse
// The Weekly Service
// Black is King visual album by Beyonce