Tag: Photography

The bridge where tantrums melt

sunny spellsduck feedingfeeding ducks2

birds feedingthe bridge 2

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.

What we fear

light and darkon a cherry hunt_bw“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.” | Marianne Williamson, Return to Love

Nothing To Do

cherries 2strawberriesJPGcherries 3on a cherry huntcherries 1red currentsraspberry“I’ve got nothing to do today but smile.” – Paul Simon

Smile :)

Natural dreams

walking

Where do you go to escape from the turmoil of the world? I go home. Childhood home. Of course it boils there too. But it boils in a different language, about different matters although with familiarity from the past. We know our childhood homes so well. We know what to expect of them and, who knows, maybe it is this predictability of the place and language that makes it easier for us to truly rest and listen.

I tend to find myself when I’m in the unchanging landscape of my little village, in its stability. The fields, the trees, the meadows, the orchards, the forest nearby – they are always there ready to embrace me as I am. Ready to welcome me as me.

It’s a powerful sensation. Me as me.

In a world that demands constant change. In a world that asks for continuous development and seduces us with better versions of ourselves it is really difficult to appreciate the people we are and have always been – with our personal dreams, perspectives, and qualities.

In fact, it is even difficult to love our own core dreams when so many things around tell us that there are other, better dreams to dream.

When you feel like this think of the time when you last were dreaming with confidence. Big dreams, small dreams but with ease, no noise in the background. I have realised recently that I was at my dreaming-best when I was 14. I don’t know what I was doing ever since, but it was the time when my map of dreams was the most personal to me, no fears, fads and fashion. In my little childhood village there are cereal fields next to my dad’s cherry orchard. Walking along the fields, I meet the 14-year old. She’s cheerful, hopeful and determined. Where were you when your dreams were unfolding? Maybe you can visit this place? Or create a semblance of it where you are now? To allow yourself to be you, maybe with fears but without disabling judgements.

Complaints and Gratitude

mint

People who complain are not necessarily unhappy. Often, they just try to strike a relationship with others through complaining. Sharing suffering, even about the little things, can be bond-creating and frequently functions as a conversation starter, an icebreaker.

– The bus is late again…
– Oh yes, it was delayed yesterday too… They even wrote about it in the local newspaper how unreliable the buses are these days….Do you read XYZ?
– XYZ, oh yes , I do. Would you believe it if I tell you that I have its very first issue.

And here… the connection is triggered, the conversation unfolds, the stranger at the bus stop is no longer a stranger but someone who we share suffering with and the discomfort of our day-to-day experiences. In that sense the complaint is an invitation to a longer dialogue. It is not its conclusion. It’s just a start…

I do a fair deal of complaining in my life. Recently perhaps a bit too much. (You see… I even complain about my habit of complaining :) ))))))) But I think that disappointments are part of life and it’s good to notice them and share them too. There is something quite artificial in noticing only the bright side. March is the time when we complain a lot in our northern hemisphere. Because our days are not quite long yet, our flowers our not entirely out, and to be honest our strength and resilience to cope with challenges ahead has probably only just started building up. In March, we only manage to lift our smiles up from our heavy woolly scarves, and it takes another month or two for this smile to establish itself and for more cheery conversations to emerge.

Complaints are not always a sign of unhappiness, but are often a sign of a struggle of sorts. These struggles are part of our human stories and they are bound to happen somewhere in the process of realizing our new ventures. This is usually when most complaining goes on. When we are at the beginning of those journeys. Gratitude comes later…

…and it’s great that it does.

This is my Easter Egg for you Lovely Readers. Thank you for your messages, conversations and kind words. My doctoral research is developing very very slowly (but surely) so I still cannot offer regular postings in this space. I hope you are all well and that you’ll have lovely Easter. Best wishes and feel free to leave a complaint ;) x Alicja

fruit present