Recently I heard the renowned therapist,
Esther Perel, capture exactly what I have been asking myself. She put it something like this: "how do we find a sense of ease when the ground beneath us is constantly shifting at the moment?" As I continued to listen to her podcast, I realised with a sigh that she was not about to offer a quick fix. We all know that uncertainty is a natural part of life but there seems to be rather a lot of it right now. Nothing seems as steady as "before".
Even the weather seems to be changing more rapidly than I remember. Not long after our early spring sunshine came an abrupt change of season producing hail and sleet. I went outside to experience the only snow of the winter, which lasted for moments. This week produced more windy weather, with the sea becoming a wild, muddy brown landscape sending roaring waves onto our beach once again. As I swam on a fairly windy day I was immensely aware of the power of the sea as I moved with the undulations, trying to avoid a wave breaking right over my head. The sea from a distance had only looked choppy, but immersing myself into its swell gave a taste of its force.
This is how life feels at the moment, things shifting from one day to the next. Even the covid situation remains very present in England, despite our best efforts to try and "live alongside covid". I find myself feeling so unsettled each time another health measure is stopped. Living with such a high level of infection is exhausting with endlessly changing plans and decisions to be made. But with so many other challenges going on at the moment, it's hard to know where to begin. I hear myself saying cheerfully that I'm fine which is partly true. And I simultaneously feel like putting my head in my hands and saying "enough now, I just want normal back".
This morning I woke to glorious blue sky and only a gentle breeze. I crunched my way across the shingle beach to a warm patch of sunlight and looked out at the sea. It was back to being a peaceful, inviting place with only a lone paddle-boarder in the distance. The temperature of the water is still cold (9℃) but as long as I keep moving it is pleasantly chilly. Even getting dry on the beach was easier, with the warm rays of sun helping to thaw out my body. Rather than feeling invigorated by pounding waves, I felt soothed and calmed by the coolness.
Every time I swim on "my" beach, it feels deeply familiar yet so varied at the same time. It reminds me that life can be changeable. There is struggle, chaos and uncertainty around. But we can also take some breaks, wrap up warm and just watch the waves whether they are wild or gentle. Even remembering to pause for a few moments during the day can help our nervous system to settle. When I find myself hunched over the computer, while hoping to find some elusive answers to the uncertainty ahead, I remember to pause. And breathe. Hopefully from this calmer place, we can find something, however small, that will bring some ease to ourselves and others.
"The opposite of uncertainty is not certainty; it’s presence. Instead of imagining an unknown future, we can bring our attention to our breath. From there, we can check in with ourselves" (Christine Carter).
Beautiful blog Sue! Thanks for writing.
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