Tag: choices

  • Why it’s okay to change course …

    "... to those anchored
    to their feelings 
    hard stuck in their perception 
    of the world I say 

    you are not the map 
    but the compass
    it is never too late 
    to find true north ..."

    If you had to use one word to describe yourself, what would it be?  I’ve been asked this many times, mostly at work.  It’s one of those ice breaker exercises, the predictable opening to a training course,  to which most of us inwardly groan. My word has changed over the years; can change in the course of a day depending on my mood.  When others have to chose a word for me, they may use “driven”.  

    I’m not good at relaxing.  Not good at sitting still.  Be that at home or in the office.  I am a list person and I like to tick things off.  I’ve been known to add a thing to the list that I’ve already done, just so I can experience the pleasure of ticking it off.  I like to have a plan and feel as though I have, at least, some element of control.  

    If only it were that simple!  No one lives their life in a vacuum.  We enter into relationships, start jobs, move house, have children maybe, change direction.  Life is not linear is it?  At least not in my experience.  Most of us don’t start out on our journey and go in a straight line.  For many of us there will be changes of career, relocation, relationship break ups.  Suddenly the plan you started with doesn’t make sense, it’s no longer fit for purpose. This poem was born out of a failing relationship that I had to let go.  I held on because of a shared past, thinking it might be enough to keep us going, but of course, it wasn’t.  

    In the UK, we have a strange attitude to failure.  It has negative connotations.  It’s not good to own up to having failed.  But failure is the first step to recovery, to rebuilding, starting afresh.  Call it a process of elimination – if one option doesn’t work it, you have a green light to try the next thing. 

    Sometimes we become so fixed on the path we’ve chosen, that we forget there are other paths available.  We can get into the habit of looking at life a certain way and, in the process, become blind to the million other possibilities, be that in relation to work, relationships and/or lifestyle. 

    Wooden stile over a fence, with a mountain in the background.

    Driven describes that part of me that tries to stick to the plan.  My plan.  I’ve worked hard at everything in life: my relationships, my job, my hobbies.  Having a plan keeps me focused.  Perhaps too focused.  There have been times when I’ve clung to my map, forgetting that I have a choice.  I can let it go and begin again.  I have the means; I have a compass with which to steer a new course.  If I could chose a new word to describe myself it would be flexible and I’m working on it. 

    How about you?

    Map and compassDownload

  • Why a positive mindset makes all the difference …

    "... I used to think I must go 
    to a bigger place
    for life to expand 
    so I moved to a city 
    far from home 

    only then did I realise
    that horizons grow 
    from within not without ..."

    I’m holed up in my camper van in the Pingvellir National Park in Iceland as I write this.  It’s been raining incessantly for what feels like days, and we’re waiting for it to pass.  It reminds me of my childhood: stuck indoors due to rainy days, which happened a lot in Lancashire.  There were board games of course, or drawing and colouring.  But my favourite pastime was reading and I seriously devoured books.  I recall reading the Heidi classics by Johanna Spyri, thinking to myself how amazing it must be to walk barefoot on meadows high up in the alps, rather than spend your childhood confined to wellies that always rubbed the backs of your legs!  I had a vivid imagination as a child, which I must say, has served me well in life. 

    This week’s poem is another written during this trip.  This tiny church was easy to miss, partly due to its size, but also its low profile, well camouflaged by the surrounding landscape.  The church accommodated a congregation of just thirty; I expect that there wasn’t much privacy to be had in that community.  It would most certainly be noted if you were absent for Sunday Service, and I expect everyone would know your business.  I can’t think of anything worse. 

    Image of a turf church in Iceland, surrounded by a low turf wall

    It got me thinking about how much opportunities have increased, particularly for women, over the last few centuries.  I could picture the likes of Jane Eyre, sat in Grafarkirkja on a Sunday morning, wondering about her fate as a woman with limited options.  What would the likes of the English women’s rugby team make of it all, given the rich opportunities they’ve enjoyed in this modern age?  I admit to filling up with emotion when I heard that they had won the World Cup.  I’m always inspired when women achieve great things despite the obstacles they may have encountered.  Hard to believe that, in my lifetime, women were still denied entry to some sports and sport institutions.  We’ve come a long way. 

    And yet, in other parts of the world, women and girls are still denied the right to work or go to school.  In some ways, I worry that the human race is going backwards.  It isn’t lost on me that I’m extremely privileged to be taking this extended trip to a country and culture that has truly widened my horizons.  

    During my time in Iceland, I’ve been blown away by the sheer scale of the country, its landscape and its history.  It’s tempting to think in a place of such enormity, that opportunities will abound for  people here.  But of course, it’s never that simple is it?  There are so many variables at play in how each of us view the world, our own situation and the choices we make.  People have often said to me that I’ve been lucky; whilst I accept that to some degree, I also think that you have to make your own luck.  Hard work and resilience are both important factors in maximising any opportunities you may have; that’s certainly been my experience.  I read a fascinating book a couple of years ago by Dr Carol Dweck, Changing the Way You Think To Fulfil Your Potential, which demonstrated brilliantly just how much impact a positive/growth mindset can have on people. To use an analogy, it’s a bit like switching a light on: you suddenly see the options that may have eluded you.

    The biggest lesson for me has been realising that the key factor in how my life turns out is my attitude.  It’s not about living in a beautiful place, going on amazing holidays, or having lots of money. It’s about being grateful for what I have: the people in my life, and the time I have to do the things that bring me joy.  Even if that means writing whilst being holed up in a rather damp camper van, waiting for a break in the weather.    

    grafarkirkjaDownload

  • How the lesson you most need to learn keeps coming back to you … 

    "... I am discovering 
    the kindness 
    of slow days ..."

    I’ll admit I’m not good at relaxing.  I like to be busy, doing stuff.  If I’m not actually doing stuff, then I’ll be making a list of things to do.  I’ve talked about this before, but the fact that I’m contemplating this theme again, makes me realise I’m still learning.  Do other people find this?  The lessons you most need to learn just keeping coming back to you, in one form or another, until you get the message.  And then, if like me, you let things slide, before you know it, you’re back where you started.  It’s then the lesson starts afresh. 

    I thought about this recently as we drove along the north coast road of Iceland’s West Fjords (Vestfirdir).  Like most coastal roads, you find yourself driving back and forth, east to west, to reach the same point some miles down the road.  I imagine, as the crow flies, the distance between Hólmavík, where we started, and the end of the road at Bolungarvík is significantly less than the actual driving distance.  It got me thinking that life doesn’t always go in a straight line, which most people will appreciate, I’m sure.  I’m not convinced that time is a constant either.  We have made sense of time passing by creating hours and minutes, but it’s a rough guess at best isn’t it?  

    I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks that time sometimes passes way too quickly, and other times seems to drag.  Time often feels like the enemy, when you’re rushing to get things done within a certain deadline, or when you want time to slow down so that you can make the most of a special occasion.  

    Just occasionally, a certain kind of magic happens: time seems to stop, leaving you in a state of bliss to simply enjoy the moment for longer than you dare to believe possible.  This happened to me on that road trip and it was totally sublime.  I felt like I’d travelled through some kind of portal into another world, like Narnia, where the rules were completely different and I didn’t have to conform to anything.  I just had to be.  

    Figure of a woman in a yoga pose in front of the sea with mountains in the backgroun

    I didn’t have to be any place by a certain time.  There was only the one road, so I didn’t even have to think about navigation.  Due to the many twists and turns along the way, the going was slow.  There was nothing for it but to relax into the driving seat, take in the scenery and allow myself to feel part of the landscape.  I cherish moments like this.  It reminds me that life is not a race; it’s important to slow down and allow yourself to completely relax into the moment.  I know that’s easier said than done.  Easy for me, on a road trip, free of the distractions of home.  I do get that.  But I hope that this poem will prompt you to think about the last time you truly looked up and paid attention to the life you’re living.  If it’s been a while, then perhaps it’s time to stop and look up.  

    reflectionsDownload