beetwixtmass

pirate ship drops, quiet moments + blowing your own trumpet

Trees, Poles + Lines

Ahoy there.

Beetwixtmass Greetings, Me Hearties…

In these days over, around, and in between the holidays can be a strange time. The shoulder shrug response to “what day is it?!”

I don’t feel there is much to say, but I return to this practice of writing to see what emerges.

I remind myself that I write to remember the things I have forgotten, to tap into the slower knowing underneath the flurry of a chattering mind.

I write to understand what is moving itself through the heartstrings and right now, typing these words, I remind myself that a kind grace is available, always. That the idea of perfection is just that, an idea, and a fluff covered chewing gum idea at that. So on I write…

The Belly Depths of a Pirate’s Ride

The image of one of those Pirate Ship rides you often find at theme parks has been flashing into my head on the regular.

Well, not just any old Pirate Ship but the one at the Oakwood theme park in Pembrokeshire, where I grew up, circa 1998.

How it would feel when the side of the boat I was sitting in would be up high in the air.

Slightly raising me from the seat, hair flying around my face.

Stomach lurching upwards and being left in the sky before plummeting back down as the opposite side would dip and loop itself up into the air.

At the bottom of the plummet back down, the gravity would pin me into the seat, a pressure deep in the abdomen.

The opposing weighty depths of the high flying weightlessness.

This is where we find ourselves. The lofty heights of the summer giddiness are as far away as they can be.

We are in the deep belly of the swing.

It makes me wonder how folks in the Southern Hemisphere experience the alternate flip of the seasons, in relationship with a new year. How the height of summer is coupled with the beginning of January. (I would love to hear from you if you live down south.) It reminds me that the Celtic calendar and it’s seasonally rooted rituals are of this land and rooted in its history.

That our relationship to place and the changing of the seasons is in the bones of where we know, and how we’ve grown. It is a privilege to live alongside them so near the land I grew up on, in a world full of human displacement and roaming for home.

Checking Back In

I have made a conscious effort this last week to find, and make and take, moments to check in with myself. Woven in with all of the boisterous busyness and much fun of a christmas convening family from across the country.

I am a merger.

I merge with the goings on around me. Sensitive to shifts and twists of mood and energy. Senses are heightened… rather like a wolf. If the wolf wasn’t into chemical fragrances, strip lighting and unplanned for loud noises. It isn’t always an easy thing to navigate, I get super pooped pretty quickly, but I am learning how to listen what is happening internally (and when overwhelm is about to strike!) and really enjoy blending into different spaces and different folks.

It is always a rich meal.

This week, along with the abundance of a Christmas fridge, time spent connecting with others needs digestion. This can feel quite alien when there is so much drawing our attention, through humans, screens, to-do lists, monkey mind busyness and all the rest of the things.

Before the sun was up on Christmas morning I found myself awake and heading out to the local park in the pre-dawn daze. (The possibility of someone who doesn’t have small bouncy humans demanding stockings before sunrise!) Here are some words I jotted down and images I took.

Those few minutes of time on my own helped me settle back a little and see how I was doing. To digest the rich meal of togetherness.

A check in with the trees, poles and power lines.

Noticing.

Complex bones of trees dark against the soft dawn. Birdsong slipping in and out and among the wet roll of tyres of tarmac and thoughts catching me off guard, in their own kind of wet rolling.

Linden trees or London plane? Are they the same? With their brown baubles bouncing on the ends of branches. The tall froth of silver birch. Thick tension of yew in the dark. Mind skittering as it sees human forms hiding among the shadows.

Fairy lights and the distinct ripping of paper as I pass one house, soon after 7am.

Pleased to have some minutes to soften into the day and land on my own feet.

Christmas Day 2022

Doodling with a Dark + Stormy and the dog.

Whether it is a moment to yourself, a doodle with a cocktail, a moment with the trees, a moment with a loved one, to notice the blessings around you, to give space to some tears, or laughter or a moment with something else in your life that you are feeling the longing for in this Beetwitmass, I wish you the courage to ask for and make space for what you need and want.

New Year Blessings.

See you next week.

KJ

---

GOOD THINGS

I would like to hear a good thing, or two, or three from this last year for you. Something that you did, or that happened to you, a small moment, big achievement or another human (or animal being, plant, mineral) that you would like to rejoice in.

This is an invitation to BLOW YOUR OWN TRUMPET and to spend a moment noting anything.

In all of the novel dazzle of a new year, and the thoughts of things I would like to get nailed in the coming months, I have found myself forgetting to take stock and celebrate the good things. So this I intend to do over the coming days… and it doesn’t stop with Auld Lang Syne starts.

I would love to make a list of the things you share.

Just hit reply, or leave your GOOD THINGS in the comments.

Full Article: https://indianexpress.com/article/trending/trending-globally/to-combat-loneliness-dutch-supermarket-chain-has-special-checkout-lane-8337978/lite/