Self-acceptance

“A red rose is not selfish because it wants to be a red rose. It would be horribly selfish if it wanted all the other flowers in the garden to be both red and roses.” – Oscar Wilde

Making Space(s)

I grew up in a village partially surrounded by wide stretches of open land. In a building that comfortably housed my grandparents, my parents, me and my sister. There was a large garden behind our house, with other farm buildings and a field where different things were grown depending on the year. My cousins’ house was on the same yard as ours and not a day passed by without us playing together and visiting each other. I grew up in a warm-hearted community surrounded by beautiful natural spaces.

It wasn’t until I started living in the UK that I realised how strongly my well-being is related to the open countryside and to kind-hearted interactions that come with communal living. I think that these two aspects of life are so strongly ingrained in our systems that without them we stop thriving. Of course, we thrive in some communities and in some spaces more than in others, but it is a task of an adult to figure out exactly where we thrive.

A while ago I listened to a wonderful conversation between Kirsta Tippet and Maria Popova. They discussed a different type of space to the physical and the communal that I mentioned above. They were talking about the moments in our day when our minds are least burdened, the moments when great ideas pop up in our heads, when we shower, for example. The moments of unburdened cognitive space.

I often think about questions related to good leadership. Partially because I think that a role of a mother has to do a lot with good leadership, but also because I would like to be a good leader for myself. (Who wouldn’t like to lead their life beautifully, eh?) I really feel now that in order to be a good leader in our overloaded times we need to be able to create for ourselves and others as much unburdened cognitive space as possible – sometimes that space comes with a reduction of tasks, sometimes with a reduction of judgment that we throw at ourselves and others, and other times just with holidays or a daily meditation. But the most space we get is when we practise all of those… with great quantities of love. The more we love ourselves and the people who we are with, the more we strive for balance (rather than praise or control). Only then can we become for others what we always hoped for: a delicate and energizing light.

Touched

“The other morning I woke up worrying about a dear friend’s well-being. I felt it as an ache in my heart. When I got up and looked out my window, I saw such beauty that it stopped my mind. I just stood there with the heartbreak of my friend’s condition and saw trees heavy with fresh snow, a sky that was purple-blue, and a soft mist that covered the valley, turning the world into the vision of the Pure Land. Just then, a flock of yellow birds landed on the fence and looked at me, increasing my wonder further still.

I realized then what it means to hold pain in my heart and simultaneously be deeply touched by the power and magic of the world. Life doesn’t have to be one way or the other. We don’t have to jump back and forth. We can live beautifully with whatever comes – heartache and joy, success and failure, instability and change.” Pema Chödrön, Living Beautifully

The bridge where tantrums melt

There is a bridge close to my house where tantrums melt and calm proceeds. I’m not quite sure what it is in that place that pacifies difficult feelings and makes more reassuring communication possible. Maybe it’s the joy of reaching a destination that does it or the task of feeding ducks or just being surrounded by nature or maybe all of these things taken together. Life just seems to float there. Just like the water under the bridge.

It’s not only the toddler who needs the bridge. I need it too, to quieten my internal communication with myself. August has been quite intense for me as the next few months are likely to be. When the pressure is high, I really appreciate open spaces more than anything. Perhaps I also have got a kicking and screaming toddler in myself who can only collect herself when out in the wild.

When I used to work in my dad’s orchard, my sister and I would spend a lot of time just looking into the sky, watching the passing clouds, connecting with the heavens. I noticed that my son loves doing it too. Looking up, breathing deeply. It’s reassuring, isn’t it? That under the clouds we are all small people.

Liking rain: Photo Essay

Ever since I came to the UK, I’ve been learning to love when it rains. It’s not so easy at times… I must admit. But rain can be beautiful and mesmerizing. Purifying and full of promises. Of growth. Of fun and of adventure.