I wonder if "not enough" is the great human temptation. Where does "not enough" come from? Lately, I think it is the mask of the inner critic, the voice of shame and inadequacy, I hear it all the time. "You don't write enough, aren't dedicated enough, brave enough, willing to sacrifice enough." The antidote for me is to become more present in the moment I'm living. I can't go back and remake the past, nor leap forward and embody the future. But I can pay better attention right here and see what it offers. Reading your post about whales and warblers encourages me to be attentive right here. There is so much undone in my life, and I should edit my sermon for this morning. But this week I saw a brilliant lunar eclipse. I heard seals howling down past the cove. And a woodpecker keeps hammering on the deck. What is up with him? Enough already!
Yes. Yes. And yes. Countless times have felt not good enough and even more times have wanted to hit the road and escape. I love your description of the high end escape modes as I've often looked longingly at my neighbors across the street. First at their Mercedes sprinter van which they then traded in to get a spanky new gorgeous truck and the most astounding little tear drop trailer with "wheels that don't take no for an answer" (love that line). The I turn and feast my eyes on our beloved, dilapidated, old trailer that is oozing with memories and wouldn't trade it for the world.
I do so many things I wish I wouldn't do but my main drug of choice is sugar. The thing I wish I would do much more of is consistently sit in silence, I am so fortunate that I frequently walk in silence in beautiful places but for some reason my inner self also yearns to sit and simply be...then I allow life to get in the way.
Gosh, Donna, I feel like much of this was taken straight from my own songbook, particularly your last paragraph. What's that word Holly repeated...sister? <3
This was so beautiful. It felt like reading:listening to poetry as an essay, and your voice made me want it to never end.
In re doing v being:
The thing about “doing” is that when you get sick, you really just have to let yourself “be”. And just be. I remember the inner thrashing of my early days of Lyme disease, before I let go of the identity I held onto so desperately. My need to do as a way of proving/providing my worth…now I realize how exhausting that was and how much that orientation to the world drained me. Now I celebrate (or, rather, and still learning to celebrate) myself simply because I am. My “being”. My nothingness and how that is just as dynamic and beautiful and meaningful and valuable to the world as all the things I used to do. It’s allowed me to soften so much, and to let life flow through me. Big diagnoses (I read your other post, and I am so sorry) come with so many different facets, but learning to release the doing and allow the being remains the biggest blessing of mine. 🤍🤍
Finding peace wherever our feet may be seems to me to always be the challenge and the goal. I'm always here to listen if you want to share/vent/complain a out the latest medical "adventures". Meanwhile I'm deeply impressed with the art you create from your experience. You just took us all on a beautiful journey.
You had me at Blackburnian warbler! They are one of the first to return here to our woods in early May and a reassurance that summer will soon be on our shoulders.
Just a random thought: I have a tattoo with a hot air balloon with a tiny anchor instead of a sandbag. I had it inked at a time when I felt stationary and sandbagged. I felt held down in a negative way until a friend said, "anchors are meant for safe harbor and security. They tether you to safety. They hold you where you need to be."
Huh. So, maybe, sometimes, stationary is a temporary security.
“Drifting through an Alaskan fjord, I watched a humpback whale slap her tail against the water’s surface. Her nearness made my bones feel stronger.” Holly, this might be one of my favorite posts you’ve shared. The willingness of your body to listen and respond to her winged and finned companions, relearning your interconnectedness. Drawing from their alchemical strength. I lean into your words and feel renewed, though my own wiring is quite different. For me, choice has always been overwhelming, my version of a barred room. But perhaps we meet in the same place, where enough is an exhale reached from the stillness that both choice and choice-lessness offer. It’s thrilling to feel the vastness of your stillness, while mine necessitates so much less acreage!
Exquisite writing Holly and the photos too, such divine beauty.
"Not enough" how often I hear these words, each time with less tolerance. We live in a world of silent indoctrination, we don't know its happening but it is. Not enough money, not enough beauty, not enough reading, writing, exercise, healthy food. What ever happened to not enough kindness, empathy and love?
I read a quote today by Anne Micheals
“Important lessons: look carefully; record what you see. Find a way to make beauty necessary; find a way to make necessity beautiful.”
It seems to me our one big failing is not paying attention to the beauty of the now and always looking for the beauty of next please, I'm bored. I could cry...
As for an escape plan... I am fortunate to believe I have enough - it isn't quite the truth but...🌿x
"I haven’t done enough so I can someday have enough, be enough."
:sigh:
I wish I could say this doesn't resonate at all for me. Alas. I think of the tattoos my friends got when they lost someone they loved: Be Here Now. I think of our new acquaintances, live aboard sailors with a 90 year old wooden vessel, who have been stuck here for two years, a combination of his health and unavoidable boat repairs. Recently, they unearthed a cancer in the boat, a massive area of rot. They've moved to temporary housing, the boat's bow is agape and extensive, expensive repairs are underway. But reading about the work they are doing, both personally and aboard, and seeing the photos of their sweet boat, makes me long to be back aboard myself. Life is simpler when we can step off the treadmill. When we can. And when we can't, for whatever reason, we have to find it within us to be at peace. Oh, peace...!
Beautiful reflections, Holly. You never disappoint. I, too, think I know more than I probably really do about other people’s lives. But I'm pretty sure no one feels that what you offer isn't what they're here for.
Love this, exquisitely beautiful: "A Blackburnian warbler weighs 1/3 of an ounce. A humpback, 35 tons. A human heart, 8 ounces. And each of us turns to the sun. Our wings, our fins, our feet, our roots know intimately the 584 million miles our earth travels every year." Give us a different perspective. Happy Equinox, Holly!
HI Holly. I didn't listen. This morning I chose to read, instead, and linger a bit over your words and beautifully crafted sentences. This arrived in my heart this morning like an ode to longing. I could feel the aching sensation, that familiar tug. Beautiful. Thank you. Sister.
"Stationary doesn’t suit me." Ditto. Sometimes restlessness unnamed percolates until it ceases, or until I have a thought or do something that eases that tension. Sometimes it dissipates. Restlessness has been my companion for decades, and I treasure it. It can open my heart and mind and soul to find the answer to any longing.
I wonder if "not enough" is the great human temptation. Where does "not enough" come from? Lately, I think it is the mask of the inner critic, the voice of shame and inadequacy, I hear it all the time. "You don't write enough, aren't dedicated enough, brave enough, willing to sacrifice enough." The antidote for me is to become more present in the moment I'm living. I can't go back and remake the past, nor leap forward and embody the future. But I can pay better attention right here and see what it offers. Reading your post about whales and warblers encourages me to be attentive right here. There is so much undone in my life, and I should edit my sermon for this morning. But this week I saw a brilliant lunar eclipse. I heard seals howling down past the cove. And a woodpecker keeps hammering on the deck. What is up with him? Enough already!
Yes. Yes. And yes. Countless times have felt not good enough and even more times have wanted to hit the road and escape. I love your description of the high end escape modes as I've often looked longingly at my neighbors across the street. First at their Mercedes sprinter van which they then traded in to get a spanky new gorgeous truck and the most astounding little tear drop trailer with "wheels that don't take no for an answer" (love that line). The I turn and feast my eyes on our beloved, dilapidated, old trailer that is oozing with memories and wouldn't trade it for the world.
I do so many things I wish I wouldn't do but my main drug of choice is sugar. The thing I wish I would do much more of is consistently sit in silence, I am so fortunate that I frequently walk in silence in beautiful places but for some reason my inner self also yearns to sit and simply be...then I allow life to get in the way.
Gosh, Donna, I feel like much of this was taken straight from my own songbook, particularly your last paragraph. What's that word Holly repeated...sister? <3
❤
This was so beautiful. It felt like reading:listening to poetry as an essay, and your voice made me want it to never end.
In re doing v being:
The thing about “doing” is that when you get sick, you really just have to let yourself “be”. And just be. I remember the inner thrashing of my early days of Lyme disease, before I let go of the identity I held onto so desperately. My need to do as a way of proving/providing my worth…now I realize how exhausting that was and how much that orientation to the world drained me. Now I celebrate (or, rather, and still learning to celebrate) myself simply because I am. My “being”. My nothingness and how that is just as dynamic and beautiful and meaningful and valuable to the world as all the things I used to do. It’s allowed me to soften so much, and to let life flow through me. Big diagnoses (I read your other post, and I am so sorry) come with so many different facets, but learning to release the doing and allow the being remains the biggest blessing of mine. 🤍🤍
Finding peace wherever our feet may be seems to me to always be the challenge and the goal. I'm always here to listen if you want to share/vent/complain a out the latest medical "adventures". Meanwhile I'm deeply impressed with the art you create from your experience. You just took us all on a beautiful journey.
Holly, Sending love and healing energy your way.
You had me at Blackburnian warbler! They are one of the first to return here to our woods in early May and a reassurance that summer will soon be on our shoulders.
Just a random thought: I have a tattoo with a hot air balloon with a tiny anchor instead of a sandbag. I had it inked at a time when I felt stationary and sandbagged. I felt held down in a negative way until a friend said, "anchors are meant for safe harbor and security. They tether you to safety. They hold you where you need to be."
Huh. So, maybe, sometimes, stationary is a temporary security.
“Drifting through an Alaskan fjord, I watched a humpback whale slap her tail against the water’s surface. Her nearness made my bones feel stronger.” Holly, this might be one of my favorite posts you’ve shared. The willingness of your body to listen and respond to her winged and finned companions, relearning your interconnectedness. Drawing from their alchemical strength. I lean into your words and feel renewed, though my own wiring is quite different. For me, choice has always been overwhelming, my version of a barred room. But perhaps we meet in the same place, where enough is an exhale reached from the stillness that both choice and choice-lessness offer. It’s thrilling to feel the vastness of your stillness, while mine necessitates so much less acreage!
Absolutely, one of my go-to Substacks, "wandering heart" I like to call it--as I travel with you, open and vulnerable and truel
Exquisite writing Holly and the photos too, such divine beauty.
"Not enough" how often I hear these words, each time with less tolerance. We live in a world of silent indoctrination, we don't know its happening but it is. Not enough money, not enough beauty, not enough reading, writing, exercise, healthy food. What ever happened to not enough kindness, empathy and love?
I read a quote today by Anne Micheals
“Important lessons: look carefully; record what you see. Find a way to make beauty necessary; find a way to make necessity beautiful.”
It seems to me our one big failing is not paying attention to the beauty of the now and always looking for the beauty of next please, I'm bored. I could cry...
As for an escape plan... I am fortunate to believe I have enough - it isn't quite the truth but...🌿x
"I haven’t done enough so I can someday have enough, be enough."
:sigh:
I wish I could say this doesn't resonate at all for me. Alas. I think of the tattoos my friends got when they lost someone they loved: Be Here Now. I think of our new acquaintances, live aboard sailors with a 90 year old wooden vessel, who have been stuck here for two years, a combination of his health and unavoidable boat repairs. Recently, they unearthed a cancer in the boat, a massive area of rot. They've moved to temporary housing, the boat's bow is agape and extensive, expensive repairs are underway. But reading about the work they are doing, both personally and aboard, and seeing the photos of their sweet boat, makes me long to be back aboard myself. Life is simpler when we can step off the treadmill. When we can. And when we can't, for whatever reason, we have to find it within us to be at peace. Oh, peace...!
Beautiful reflections, Holly. You never disappoint. I, too, think I know more than I probably really do about other people’s lives. But I'm pretty sure no one feels that what you offer isn't what they're here for.
Love this, exquisitely beautiful: "A Blackburnian warbler weighs 1/3 of an ounce. A humpback, 35 tons. A human heart, 8 ounces. And each of us turns to the sun. Our wings, our fins, our feet, our roots know intimately the 584 million miles our earth travels every year." Give us a different perspective. Happy Equinox, Holly!
HI Holly. I didn't listen. This morning I chose to read, instead, and linger a bit over your words and beautifully crafted sentences. This arrived in my heart this morning like an ode to longing. I could feel the aching sensation, that familiar tug. Beautiful. Thank you. Sister.
Loved listening! And hearing you speak of connection with your ‘sister’ creatures. Thank you.
"Stationary doesn’t suit me." Ditto. Sometimes restlessness unnamed percolates until it ceases, or until I have a thought or do something that eases that tension. Sometimes it dissipates. Restlessness has been my companion for decades, and I treasure it. It can open my heart and mind and soul to find the answer to any longing.
“Be a part of all of it.”