Limits of all kind

“The more you try to avoid suffering, the more you suffer, because smaller and more insignificant things begin to torture you, in proportion to your fear of being hurt. The one who does most to avoid suffering is, in the end, the one who suffers most.” ― Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain

Good morning from a quiet and very dark Devon.

The coffee is poured, there's quiet, almost sleep-inducing music on in the background, and I'm here again at my computer musing on life.

I've written before about limits, having been inspired by Stephen Jenkinson's work. Yes, the same person who has written so eloquently about death, elderhood and especially limits.

You know the kind:

• life
• death
• the earth
• relationships
• our abilities

in fact so much of what we take for granted or expect. 

But we don't covet limits. Quite the contrary. Instead ― and yes it's a generalisation too bloody far (as ever, Summerhayes) ― we're obsessed with the trope that says you can and MUST be all you can be. 

To me at least, it's all so sad. 

Of course, you might, and I'd expect you to profoundly disagree: what's wrong with living up to your potential? 

Indeed, what's wrong with what? 

Look around you. The answer's everywhere. Sh*t, I could even make the point, as insensitive as it is, that wanting it now, and wanting it all has brought us to this place. We sure as hell never wanted to limit the amount of air travel we indulged in nor the fact we wanted to expand the reach of our geographic territory. I mean, it's not that long ago, one or at two generations perhaps, that no one moved from their home town or not very far away. 

But of course, I'm being very opinionated and you'll rightly accuse me of my own brand of hollow, and slightly terse exhortation. In fact, you might even say (and I wouldn't blame you), it's none of my damn business how you order your life.  Then again, in case I need to restate it, I'm not really a solution type of guy. A better question! Now you're talking. In fact, if only we'd ask ourselves something more than "What's next?".

Don't forget (as if you've a choice) we're human. 

Or as Alan Watts said:

"The prevalent sensation of oneself as a separate ego enclosed in a bag of skin is a hallucination which accords neither with Western science nor with the experimental philosophy-religions of the East".

I wonder if we really see that apropos what we're not able to do? Instead, we seem to believe that we can do practically anything. But we can't. And we shouldn't believe that we're (almost) homo deus in stature. 

For me, one way I find of bringing myself out of the trance of being all I can be is to spend time in nature. It reminds me how small and insignificant I am. Also, that I too am dying and trying to be the same person I was 10, 20 or 30 years ago is more than a little delusional. When I'm really connected, it feels that there is no me strutting around with such self (small 's') importance: I am nature. 

In the end though, as I've said so many times, how you live your life is how you live your life. But all I can tell you is that as I age, I feel more at home in my skin by dint of not having the desire to constantly better myself or be something that I can't be by dint of my mental or physical persuasion. Does that mean I've given up? No, not at all. But it does mean that just occasionally I'm fully alive to the person I am ― all body, mind and spirit.

Anyhow, have a wonderful day.

Blessings,
Julian 

Back to nature

I'm just back from my daily walk with Alfie and Fidget.

I managed to stay dry right until the end when the heavens opened; Alfie didn't mind; Fidget looked like she'd had enough.

For me, the daily walk isn't just a way of raising my heart rate and enjoying the fresh air -- both very important -- it's a way to connect, deeply.

In fact, I'd say it was in the same vein as meditation.

There's always a temptation to get it over with, but these days I nearly always take a moment to stop, breathe in and out with a strong sense of purpose and listen to my environs. It grounds me.

I don't take this for granted. I realise how fortunate I am to have Dartmoor on my doorstep and to have the time to walk this way.

Actually, I'm pretty sure that even if I didn't live here, I'd find a way to connect with nature, even if I had to do it in some other way, e.g. gardening.

Think about your own experience with nature. I'd be very surprised if it hasn't and still does touch you. Without getting too Woo Woo on you, the reason possibly that you feel a deeper connection with life is because your thinking drops away to nothing. In that space (which I call presence) you feel one with your surroundings.

(Imagine being able to hold that state of presence through the travails of life without having to seek out nature.)

As we all start to think about what we'd like to do for 2018, if I must make a plea it's to go back to basics and look at nature as part of your life beyond an attractive place to hang out.

I know I will.

Blessings,

Julian