You can scroll the shelf using ← and → keys
You can scroll the shelf using ← and → keys
Did you know you can close up anytime? It’s so easy that it’s almost imperceptible if you’re not aware. And then the minutes and days pass and suddenly, you find yourself on the other side of the window, with the glass getting mistier + cloudier, and you go to reach out and – can’t.
It starts small.
“Hello” only, rather than, “How are you, what’s happening?”, because in that moment, any more than “Hello” is too much effort.
It’s the change in inflection in your voice.
Rather than putting something into words, just moving, moving, moving. The “what’s next” is so seductive, and so easy, that you wonder if you dreamed that moment of worry and vulnerability. Did you know that a moving target is harder to hit? Devastating, hey?
Don’t wear that colourful scarf. Too much to wear those gorgeous earrings. Not feeling that fabulous polka-dot coat. Put the plain-coloured everything on.
I’ll do it tomorrow.
Look down, rather than looking up and engaging, and risking that interaction because there is a chance that it might be uncomfortable, or joyful, or weird, or funny, or – something other than easy.
I’m not ready yet.
Put the bowl in the microwave, heat it up, eat. Don’t want to clean the glorious oil spatter off the kitchen counter, or have chilli make your eyes water and you watery with laughter, or have the house smell like garlic for days. Keep it clean.
Don’t ask that extra question, you might start a landslide or create a wave. You might find yourself on the edge, or worse still, the outer. You might get a reputation.
Why reach out anyways? They’ll be busy. They’ll have other things on. Too tired. No time or energy. Next time.
That worked last time. Do it again, cut and paste, repeat.
It’s so easy, way too easy, to close up.
Be a little more awkward and daring, hopeful and vibrant, and step up.
Look around. There’s more. Embrace the stomach flip. Feel the awkward acutely.
I had a colleague walk by today and say, “Smile, Kwokkie! Why so serious? That’s not you!”
And normally I wouldn’t mind, but today it really got under my skin. Probably because there’s a lot buzzing away in the background with overseas tour preparations and I have limited smile-capacity at present. 🤣
And it got me thinking about the cost of not receiving people as they were, especially those who are normally strong, joyful, resilient, positive, and thoughtful, and the expectations we place on ourselves and others to be a certain way.
For me, I was totally fine with whatever resting bitch face I had on; it was honest + authentic. Why so serious? Because at that moment, I WAS + NEEDED to be. Did that comment mean I’m not taken seriously? Because I certainly DO SERIOUS work. I just happen to like doing seriously SERIOUS and EXCELLENT work with JOY + ENTHUSIASM.
It was SUCH a reminder to me to receive my own students, particularly the very exceptional ones who give their very best selves each day, at whatever state they are in without judgement, just care + connection.
I am guilty of giving that very same passing remark when I am not thinking, without any desire to make anyone feel less than.
So that’s why I’ll take my very special, give-it-all-to-the-world super students, at face value. I’ll ask them how they are travelling without asking them why they’re not looking stupendous every moment of they day. That they are allowed to have moments in the day where they can be un-smiley, resting-bitch-and-bastard-faced grumpy sods, and ultimately perfectly normal, healthy, wonderful human beings.
Why is it that only when we travel, our hearts truly open?
And we are at our most open and tender, alive and willing to connect?
Why is our faith in humanity fully restored when we venture into an unfamiliar world?
When we are a little more vulnerable, a little more awake, a little more in awe of our surroundings?
A little shy, a little bold, all at once?
And why is it that we so easily forget how much is beautiful exactly where we are?
When we are just walking an ordinary simply daily path?
How is it our that our hearts close over a little each day when we feel safe and secure, and we don’t even notice it until we don’t send that extra message, we don’t reach out, we don’t laugh louder, we don’t hug closer, we don’t try a little harder for the silly-crazy because…we don’t have time? Or the inclination?
Help me notice, oh, help me notice. I want my heart to be regularly shaken up, cracked open, flooded, and constantly discovering the world.
I want my heart to be alive.
How is it that when we are ripped raw, made vulnerable, and torn open by life, we are more tender? We are so much more alive to love, aware of kindness, and so much more willing to be all the things that we want on a day-to-day basis.
When you are “full” and when life is going well, it is so easy just to walk on by, figuratively and emotionally. So easy to not notice the tender little moments that we would be so utterly aware of and open to when we are in struggle.
Strong back, tender heart.
Be courageous, my little heart, that you may see all the tenderness in the world when you are full.