I also wrestle with cast-in-stone physical body realities and could share too many sad stories if I were to answer "how are you?" honestly. So I try really hard not to since for me it almost never feels very good after telling because people simply don't know how to respond and while people's empathy or sympathy initially felt supportive at first it's soon just seemed to weigh me down even more. I have a wonderful sister who listens when I do need to say something out loud about it all. She was the one who taught me the principal of we go in the direction of our most dominant thoughts. Unable to engage physically in the things that used to bring me so much joy has been really painful but then a couple of years ago the idea of creating and sending original cards i make - with funny and or simply thoughtful bits of text - not only delights me in the process of making them and gives me a wonderful goal every month - some of the people who get them tell me how much they love them and the difference it makes in their days. Spending hours coming up with a new card and then making them addressing them and picking out stamps to put on the envelopes feels like a window to the light in the universe. So I've tried to make those cards become my daily most dominant thought.
And... Unlike most people I encounter i love winter, too.
Thank you for this very salutary reminder not to only see the negatives in life. We should be more like your garden…. Even when we feel a bit rough on the outside…. If we keep replenishing our minds with good thoughts eventually the sun will shine through
Oh Josie, you really made me think hard about what constantly comes out of my mouth. Yes I have had a hard life in the past, and yes, last year was the worst, l lost my Mum and moved house to a different village and had to sort Mums flat and sell that as soon as we could...and then the grief hit me with terrifying ferocity. I had already made my decision to start the new year in a different way, to breathe and to be and to be grateful for what l had as none of us knows next. So, thank you Josie for just reminding us how we should live and to look for the good, instead of concentrating on all the bad things that happen to us.
Josie - encouraging and challenging post. I feel uplifted already just from reading the change of perspective you shared. In addition to the stories I tell others, it is a challenge to me to be aware of the sad stories I am telling myself, especially, it seems, when I am about to go to sleep. So I have become intentional about asking myself, “Where was the joy in my day?” And I rest in that thought. It might be as small as enjoying the oatmeal I had for breakfast, or the “hello” I received from a passing stranger, or as large as a thoughtful email from a close friend. But if I look with that intention, I always find a kernel of joy.
Today… I’m guessing it will be found in reading your post! Happy Birthday!
This is so appropriate and thought-provoking, especially on the eve of the first anniversary of my dearly loved Mum's death. My lovely Dad died 4 months later. At 92 and 93 they had been married 65 years and knew each other since being babies in their prams and being in the same reception class at school. So this was not a tragedy in any shape or form. There was so much to celebrate.
But nevertheless a heavy sadness permeated the last 12 months, during which several other minor crises and ill-health affected our family. It was a lot in the same year and other people have recognised that and been very kind and sympathetic. And as Brits we are very good at talking about our problems! We seem to think they make us interesting sometimes!
Your writing today has challenged me to change my narrative of sad and difficult stories and reflect on who I want to be moving forward, continuing difficulties notwithstanding.
Thank you Josie for helping me see the sad stories I tell, and how I also don't want to be telling them any longer. There are so many other stories I could tell, how the brave aconites are bursting out of the dark earth, how that wind on my face yesterday felt it was blowing away a lot of last year's grief and sadness, how warm my bonus granddaughter feels when she sits on my lap...
I needed this story. I too have realized lately my stories have changed. They've changed with my body getting worse this past six months. I need to take heed. Thank you for sharing your stories. Ruth
Your newsletter is my favourite at the moment, it always gives me so much to think about.
For some reason your post reminded me of this quote from Riva Lehrer, so I thought I’d share it (hope that’s okay!)
“But to be alive in this world, every day, as we are given more and more and more, as the nature of “what we can handle” changes and our methods for how we handle it change, too, that’s something of a miracle.”
Another beautiful piece. I especially love your image of sticking a foot in a closing door. This resonates with me, as does your wish to be mindful with stories told to self and others. Powerful advice, delicately delivered. Thank you.
This post resonates with me so deeply. I love your lines, "Cold emptiness has a tidiness to it and I lean into it, comforted." Sadness and times of transition often go hand in hand. Though I'm prone to bouts of melancholy, I find that stepping into my own garden or the woods sets me right again, even if I start off a little begrudgingly. Thank you for this, Josie.
Much food for thought here. Thank you for sharing a wonderful and hopeful perspective. You’ve given me a new lens in which to view the January of my life, like many others here.
It is tempting to emphasise the negatives when the body I inhabit does not leap and run like it did once. Cancelling things at the last moment and having to rest. But thank you for your writing because it gives me hope that I can go out and not dwell on the sadnesses that could draw me into darkness. And soon, very soon, the light will last longer and will surprise us with warmth again. I have my birthday 10 days before yours it seems and the winter has always been a good time for me. But it was so much better when each year the whiteness of snow blanketed the messy, soggy land. I miss that.
I also wrestle with cast-in-stone physical body realities and could share too many sad stories if I were to answer "how are you?" honestly. So I try really hard not to since for me it almost never feels very good after telling because people simply don't know how to respond and while people's empathy or sympathy initially felt supportive at first it's soon just seemed to weigh me down even more. I have a wonderful sister who listens when I do need to say something out loud about it all. She was the one who taught me the principal of we go in the direction of our most dominant thoughts. Unable to engage physically in the things that used to bring me so much joy has been really painful but then a couple of years ago the idea of creating and sending original cards i make - with funny and or simply thoughtful bits of text - not only delights me in the process of making them and gives me a wonderful goal every month - some of the people who get them tell me how much they love them and the difference it makes in their days. Spending hours coming up with a new card and then making them addressing them and picking out stamps to put on the envelopes feels like a window to the light in the universe. So I've tried to make those cards become my daily most dominant thought.
And... Unlike most people I encounter i love winter, too.
Thank you for this very salutary reminder not to only see the negatives in life. We should be more like your garden…. Even when we feel a bit rough on the outside…. If we keep replenishing our minds with good thoughts eventually the sun will shine through
Oh Josie, you really made me think hard about what constantly comes out of my mouth. Yes I have had a hard life in the past, and yes, last year was the worst, l lost my Mum and moved house to a different village and had to sort Mums flat and sell that as soon as we could...and then the grief hit me with terrifying ferocity. I had already made my decision to start the new year in a different way, to breathe and to be and to be grateful for what l had as none of us knows next. So, thank you Josie for just reminding us how we should live and to look for the good, instead of concentrating on all the bad things that happen to us.
What we focus on grows and looking at things through a lens of lack can become an intellectual habit that stifles us if we let it.
Josie - encouraging and challenging post. I feel uplifted already just from reading the change of perspective you shared. In addition to the stories I tell others, it is a challenge to me to be aware of the sad stories I am telling myself, especially, it seems, when I am about to go to sleep. So I have become intentional about asking myself, “Where was the joy in my day?” And I rest in that thought. It might be as small as enjoying the oatmeal I had for breakfast, or the “hello” I received from a passing stranger, or as large as a thoughtful email from a close friend. But if I look with that intention, I always find a kernel of joy.
Today… I’m guessing it will be found in reading your post! Happy Birthday!
This is so appropriate and thought-provoking, especially on the eve of the first anniversary of my dearly loved Mum's death. My lovely Dad died 4 months later. At 92 and 93 they had been married 65 years and knew each other since being babies in their prams and being in the same reception class at school. So this was not a tragedy in any shape or form. There was so much to celebrate.
But nevertheless a heavy sadness permeated the last 12 months, during which several other minor crises and ill-health affected our family. It was a lot in the same year and other people have recognised that and been very kind and sympathetic. And as Brits we are very good at talking about our problems! We seem to think they make us interesting sometimes!
Your writing today has challenged me to change my narrative of sad and difficult stories and reflect on who I want to be moving forward, continuing difficulties notwithstanding.
Thank you.
Thank you Josie for helping me see the sad stories I tell, and how I also don't want to be telling them any longer. There are so many other stories I could tell, how the brave aconites are bursting out of the dark earth, how that wind on my face yesterday felt it was blowing away a lot of last year's grief and sadness, how warm my bonus granddaughter feels when she sits on my lap...
I needed this story. I too have realized lately my stories have changed. They've changed with my body getting worse this past six months. I need to take heed. Thank you for sharing your stories. Ruth
Your newsletter is my favourite at the moment, it always gives me so much to think about.
For some reason your post reminded me of this quote from Riva Lehrer, so I thought I’d share it (hope that’s okay!)
“But to be alive in this world, every day, as we are given more and more and more, as the nature of “what we can handle” changes and our methods for how we handle it change, too, that’s something of a miracle.”
Another beautiful piece. I especially love your image of sticking a foot in a closing door. This resonates with me, as does your wish to be mindful with stories told to self and others. Powerful advice, delicately delivered. Thank you.
Wonderful. Thank you. A way to resist the resistance to becoming hopeful.
This post resonates with me so deeply. I love your lines, "Cold emptiness has a tidiness to it and I lean into it, comforted." Sadness and times of transition often go hand in hand. Though I'm prone to bouts of melancholy, I find that stepping into my own garden or the woods sets me right again, even if I start off a little begrudgingly. Thank you for this, Josie.
Much food for thought here. Thank you for sharing a wonderful and hopeful perspective. You’ve given me a new lens in which to view the January of my life, like many others here.
As someone who got stuck in her own sad story for 60 years, I identify so much with this post.
As Spring comes and your five mins of gardening get sunnier, may your stories become so too.
It is tempting to emphasise the negatives when the body I inhabit does not leap and run like it did once. Cancelling things at the last moment and having to rest. But thank you for your writing because it gives me hope that I can go out and not dwell on the sadnesses that could draw me into darkness. And soon, very soon, the light will last longer and will surprise us with warmth again. I have my birthday 10 days before yours it seems and the winter has always been a good time for me. But it was so much better when each year the whiteness of snow blanketed the messy, soggy land. I miss that.
Thank you for this.