A Change in Direction

Stage 9 of the Virtual Camino – Day 10 of writing along the way…

Our guide describes the wet weather in France today. So I am twice delighted by the sun on my deck.

Back at work in my parallel – also virtual – endeavour to teach, my companions and I help one another along. I remind struggling students that they really are not alone in feeling … whatever they are feeling.

I know that psychologists advise us to label our feelings, so I leave it there. But I think it has to be okay to just be in them a little while. Observing, not wallowing.

I want to tell the students to taste their feelings, touch them. Sense how they affect the rhythms and tempos of their body – without judging them, without squeezing them into pre-labeled boxes that others have handed them.

What if we treated our feelings as small, undiscovered, wild creatures we encounter along this path? What if we just watched a while and unleashed our curiosity?

Nothing to heal or contain.

A student tells me he knows he needs to “do better”. I tell him, “Right now, good enough is more than good enough. One foot in front of the other and no judgement, no expectations: Just arrive.”

The Buddhists say if you are done eating, wash the bowl. There are necessary tasks along the way. They aren’t obstacles. They aren’t the way.

And because we are on this same path together – I overhear what I need to hear: Just arrive.

How I wish we could throw out evaluations and focus on nothing but exploration, questioning, and play.

So much still to wonder over in the world. Even now.img_8002112140819609048375552.jpg

People say these are unprecedented times. We haven’t been here before, but none of these challenges are unprecedented in human history. The Times They are A-Changin’…

Change is just a rearrangement of the same old elements. We are in motion. We can fight it or we can choose a current to follow. We flow in and out of perceived shapes. 

We recognise the shapes, and we use them to tell our stories. But we can recognise the flow, as well. The constant of change itself.

I think this is why all our stories become legends. Why legends become myths. The magic creeps in. Stone morphing into wild creatures – because it is inevitable.




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