understanding patterns; connecting dots

I cut the grass this afternoon. The sun was out, the remnant autumn leaves littered the yard and driveway. I didn’t really need to because at this time of year nothing is growing very much, but it just seemed the best way to spend an hour. And I thought about the season we’re in right now and wondered what it is inviting. It makes sense that we have our long holiday breaks in the summer, when we can enjoy the long days and warm weather. That’s our way right? Endless summer days and beach rituals. But as I’ve been pondering the seasons and impending winter solstice, I wonder how our lives would be different if we celebrated the winter solstice in the yule tradition. (Of course, this is a southern hemisphere question!) Imagine if we had a week off where we paused from our go go go. Imagine if (like many of us were forced to do during the pandemic lockdowns) we bunkered down and went slow, reconnecting with ourselves, our loved ones and the things that matter. Imagine if it was the norm t...

What if time wasn’t linear after all? What if a spiral was a better model? This morning, as we walked along the river beach at low tide and bathed in the beauty of the early morning sun shrouded behind fog, Maria suggested that the season we have been living through has been a bit like an autumn. Autumn is a time of shedding, when external growth slows and nature begins to retreat into itself. The environment composts the unused harvest, harnessing the energy to invest back into preparation for the next season. That’s what it has felt like. Our frequent and at times vulnerable ponderings about our living have been almost exclusively about what we need to leave behind, rather than what we need to become or achieve. We have no regrets about what we have accumulated or become, but we are increasingly committed to being and having less, by letting go and shedding. The masks and strategies we use to navigate life are revealing themselves as we push further into our inner worlds and discover...

As I wandered along the beach a couple of days ago, a bloke with a metal detector traced a methodical path on the sand. As I passed he was digging deep with his sieve and the expression on his face was like our King Charles Cavalier Spaniel when she buries her nose into an interesting smell in the sand. Metal detecting is not an activity I am drawn to, but I did admire his searching determination. A couple of hours later I was on an aeroplane doing my own prospecting. Or maybe it wasn’t prospecting as much as awareness, but in any case, I struck gold in an unusual place. I was listening to a podcast recommended by my friend Nik. The deeply calming voice of Krista Tippett was in conversation with the late Irish poet and philosopher John O’Donohue. Coincidentally their topic was the Inner Landscape of Beauty, which was a wonderful and stretching dialogue, but I found myself mesmerised by the sounds of their voices. John almost sings his sentences which are strung out with slow poetic ext...

As Maria and I lingered over breakfast one morning this week I had one of those ‘aha moments’ that offers an instant and substantial paradigm shift. The context was me lamenting (weirdly and perhaps funnily) how favourable circumstances improve my mood. Why lamenting? Because I seek an inner disposition that sees beyond the circumstantial. I can’t remember when I first came across the sentiment apparently common in Sweden and Norway that in essence says, “There is no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing.” But when I did, it had a striking impact on me, and since then I have been frequently reminded by my wise daughter of a related idea, that “all weather has beauty”, and to describe weather as ‘beautiful’ conflates it with the experience of pleasantness, betraying our civilised and domesticated bias toward comfort and convenience. A significant expression of my commitment to re-wilding, is swimming in the ocean early every morning: whatever the conditions, same time, ...

The more I pursue my own integrity, the more frequently I feel alienated. The more I seek a life characterised by slow and simple, the more I am uncomfortable with recognition and power, and desire truth and humility, the less I feel at home in the world. I am discovering that my inner journey is actually less about acquiring attributes and more about shedding. Shedding the masks I have worn, but also divesting the mindsets and attitudes that have defined my lifestyle and that are unchallenged in mainstream media and public discourse. It seems like the tribe I feel most at home among is marginal and probably considered a bit weird. Am I sliding into misguided weirdness, or am I seeing the front edge of human consciousness? It’s little things that trigger these thoughts. People come back from travel and have ‘done’ Brazil rather than being humbled by her. I walk around our town house and feel burdened by cupboards and rooms filled with ‘stuff’ (good and useful stuff mind you!) when our ...

A few days ago we made ravioli. The simple tomato sauce brewed with our home grown fruit, coupled with the parcels of spinach, ricotta and chicken, made the long, slow hard way, was not only culinarily spectacular, but it reminded me who we are. It grounded me because this dish conjures up memories of special occasions with our kids and indeed, Maria’s family roots. It made me ponder why some things play a role that is more deeply significant than the activity appears at face value. In the same way that exercise keeps me physically fit, some activities keep my soul fit. Some grounding practices connect me with my true self. Others connect me with those I love and the community in which I belong. And some practices remind me that I belong to the earth, that I am simply an expression of a particular wave of humanity. My grounding practices are characterised by: Mindfulness, bodyfulness & spiritfulness. They engage multiple dimensions and in that sense are integral. Connection. Conne...

A few days ago I got this (@alturnbull) card from a friend. I like it a lot. The chair on the deck near a tree. Cold drink at hand, sun hat discarded … and slow cooking cast iron enamel pot visible through the kitchen window. It conjures up a lazy carefree afternoon when life is good, a little oasis. Yes, please. ‘Such a contrasting reality to the weird shenanigans going on in the world around us. Unlike the lightness in the image, my soul is actually tired. It takes so much effort to stay present, to stop scrolling, to keep my conscience clear and to turn up everyday to the things that matter most. It’s no wonder clever artists seduce us with scenes like this one. Of course the problem is that if I were to sit on that pink chair, and reach for that drink, my inner world would still be there. The weirdness of the world, the out of control power hunger and status anxiety addictions would still be lurking like some storm clouds all around. Last year I took a sabbatical. It was wonderful,...

If you think your path is pretty secure and you know what’s coming, then you can stop reading now. This post won’t make any sense to you. If you’ve got some uncertainty in your life in areas that matter, and/or your experience suggests that life bowls some swinging deliveries pretty regularly (that, by the way, is my attempt to contextualise the American ‘curve ball’) then you’re like me, and there might be something here of value. So, what if the assumption that wisdom can help me navigate through uncertainty is a faulty one? ‘How to’ help is everywhere. But maybe it’s smoke and mirrors. Maybe my privilege has lied to me about what I am entitled to when it comes to wisdom in uncertain periods of living. Maria shared a post from Kevin Kaiser that was more than a reminder, it invited me further into the peace of embracing what’s real rather than what I hope for. So this is not my own musing. But what Kevin wrote was profoundly helpful. If I was journalling this I would reproduce his ma...