Getting precious gets you nowhere
The irony here is that I’ve been too precious about this newsletter. I had a whole idea you see, a collation of photographs, some turns of phrase I happened to have jotted down, and of course this had to progress in a very *particular* way from where I had started off.
See, that is just silly.
There’s a big difference in taking yourself and your work seriously, and taking yourself too seriously.
Being in practice means that you are in process. The only goal is to stay true to the changing nature of your practice and the little gifts that your consistency of showing up provides. Every missive is not going to be spectacular, I promise you. That’s the point of being in practice, there is no end goal and that is terrifying and freeing. ⚡️⚡️⚡️
Stillness is the move
A most fantastic song by The Dirty Projectors and a chant to save your life. Now I do not mean analysis-paralysis, do not get it twisted. I mean consideration over headless-chicken action.
So we’re going to pause here and look around for a while. We’re going to let some good things sink in. “Good” as in: important, true, silly, mine mine mine, for me for me for me, fun, for us for you for them, new, small, BIG — any and all of the fuzzy makers. Soak them in; soak in them. What do you want to soak in? Think about it.
It’s time to recognise what satisfaction feels like in the body, how self-appreciation feels like in the heart, and that pride can and does have a holiness to it.
Look at this good thing
I wrote a short story last year. You can buy it here, here, and here. Unfortunately it’s only available in the DACH region, but I’m carrying a suitcase full of books to friends in India and mailing them to friends around the world. Thank you thank you thank you all of you for your support!
And for you, new friends, I’m posting the beginning of the story here:
She loved her and she loved her. She lived on one side of the river and she lived on the other side of the river in a tiny valley, tucked away. It was almost a celestial valley but they didn’t know that because they were everyday people so it has no bearing on this story.
Dam was of the dinosaur people, strong and muscular with thighs as wide as logs and heavy with responsibility. All dinosaur folk are bonded to the earth where they look after the turning and toiling of the land, where their magic moves through to the centre of the earth and comes rushing back up for the plants and insects and animals.
The dinosaur folk had no name because it is the same name as Earth Soil Root, so we will continue to call them the dinosaur people because they had the blessings of the dinosaurs to take care of the land.
Dimi was of the dragon people, sharp and bright-eyed and looking for adventure. All dragon folk are bonded to the sky where the sun and moon and stars and more live, where dreams come from and where rain is born for all below.
The dragon folk had no name because it is the same name as Air Sky Heaven, so we will continue to call them the dragon people because they had the blessings of the dragons to read the wind and the rain.
With the river so wise so fat so large so generous and all-giving and all-crushing, neither side wanted to know about the other. There was only the sky above, the earth below, the water ahead, and the hearth at home and all that mattered was within reach.
And because of this and nothing more the dinosaur people did not like the dragon people and the dragon people did not like the dinosaur people.
But the people did know that the river was important and that both earth and sky had come to make the river. At the start of every harvest season Dam and Dimi would come to the head of the river, at the foot of a mountain. This was the one common land for both river people. Dam would come to collect the soft clay from the riverbed and Dimi to read the skies from above the cloud line.
Dam liked Dimi’s indigo headband and how it never held her curls away from her eyes, and Dimi stared at Dam’s strong thighs when she squatted.
Remember, the two were not supposed to get along.
But over time, as is wont to happen in tales like this, love blossomed where it should not have. Dimi fell in love with Dam and Dam fell in love with Dimi.
Over and over until you find yourself in the middle
And this is where I leave you, with this subheading saying everything.
Do a little bit, bit by bit. That’s how Dam and Dimi came to be.
Like this not-so-monthly-but-now-monthly newsletter.
The messy middle is the doing of the thing. It’s not got the bright-eyed newness of a start but it’s got the knowledge of mis-starts and the momentum that only discipline can sustain. So keep starting, and then one day you’ll just keep going. And one day, you’ll even finish, I promise you.
When it’s time to start something new again you might be just as rusty or may be slicker, but it doesn’t matter does it?
Until next time,
Shobhna