The benefit of the doubt

The benefit of the doubt

‘We’re all in the same storm but we’re not all in the same boat.’

This quote is a lovely reminder that every person’s experience is unique to them in every moment.

Through the Daily Gathering and other conversations I’m noticing how, whatever the circumstances: very busy, houseful, working from home with adult children returned or young children. Income disappearing or threatened; furloughed; retired; physically unwell; physically fit there is something obvious but easy to overlook: we are all having ups and downs, regardless of our circumstances.

It’s good to notice how, when we feel irked and frustrated then the world looks annoying and difficult (and our stress looks bigger and more important than everyone else’s); when we feel relaxed and content then we tend to have more perspective, humour and tolerance. We don’t tend to focus on the past or future too much and simply go about our day, finding it easier to deal with what comes up or able to wait until a solution occurs.

When we’re out of sorts, we tend to be more reactive and that looks different for different people. Some get spiky, loud and aggressive; some go quiet and hide, some lose focus and get weepy. Some do that to a large degree; others to a lesser degree.

The point?

Going in and out of different states of mind is entirely normal and is not a result of this pandemic. It happens anyway, all the time, to everyone.

It may look as though you are more up and down just now and that may seem to be the result of the pandemic but actually it may simply be that things that have always been true are becoming more visible to you.

Things like certainty. You may have feelings of anxiety and panic which look tied to the loss of certainty around eg income, plans or visiting family members.

Yet all our lives we have come up against things that didn’t go to plan. Mostly, after we’ve got over our upset or disappointment, something occurs to us which helps us navigate the new situation. It’s good to remember we have this innate capacity to deal with what arises, once our mind settles down. s

That can lead to noticing that things were never really certain, we just liked to believe they were. In fact, certainty around anything (except death and taxes) is an illusion.

That can be pretty uncomfortable if you’re wellbeing looks tied to your income or your plans or your time with family.

When, however, you get a glimpse of how your experience is constantly fluctuating from relaxation to tension, feelings of hope to feelings of irritation and everything in between, you might begin to wonder how your feeling state could possibly be a measure of your wellbeing, given how arbitrary and changeable it is, regardless of the circumstances.

What if there is something unaffected by any particular state of mind you might be experiencing? What if there is wellbeing at your core that is not subject to your moods or external circumstances?

As we get curious about that, we start to notice when we’re relaxed, curious and open, life feels easier, solutions occur to us, we can find joy in the small and ordinary moments of life.

We get less fascinated by what we might happen to be feeling in any given moment and more interested in what powers this whole thing called human experience.

That exploration can lead to feeling more grounded, more able to experience ups and downs with less suffering, doing less harm to yourself and others and finding unexpected joy and peace in the midst of the most unusual circumstances.

You know this at some level.

When the world looks and feels crazy to you, something is calling you home to a deeper understanding of your essence.

So really this is just to say, give yourself and others the benefit of the doubt. We all do and say daft things when we’re agitated and the world looks bleak when we’re down.

But like the weather in the UK, the dark clouds pass and the sun comes out again at some point. Knowing that, can help us weather the ups and downs without getting too stuck into our clouded (distorted) points of view.

Knowing things will look less daunting in time and we’ll suffer less if we can leave our negative thinking alone and just go about our day as best we can.

In the meantime, I love the Irish saying,

‘A good laugh and a long sleep are the two best cures’

Happy weekend!

Reflections on loss

Reflections on loss

Photograph © Juliet Fay San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge 5.30pm Thursday 19 March 2020

Author’s note: I’m now safely back in the UK, and in a period of 14 days of self-isolation, though feeling fine.

As is I sit at Gate 6 tonight waiting to board one of the few flights departing San Francisco, bound for London, the mood is subdued. It’s a ghost town.

The lack of tannoy announcements emphasises just how severe the curtailment of air travel has been in so very few days. A shadow of its former self, the daily commute over San Francisco bridge had melted away.

At the airport, face masks and gloves are common on staff and passengers. A little more distance is offered and sought. The much loved hum of a busy transport hub is eerily absent.

Tears today as I leave my love in California, not knowing when we’ll see each other again. Wanting to stay yet knowing it’s time to go (while it’s still possible).

Feeling such gratitude for all the unseen hands that made this journey possible: the gentle telephone operator at British Airways, the staff at the airport and the crews who are taking so many of us home.

Suddenly so many in the frontline are becoming visible to us all

Yesterday my 16 year old daughter called me, in shock at the announcement of school closure and the sudden cancellation of the summer exams.

Something she, and many like her, sitting milestone exams have focused on for many months. She was in a turmoil, as were her friends. The future they’ve imagined dissolved by the utterance of a few words carried on the airwaves from a distant seat of government, just one of the myriad responses to a threat we cannot see.

It reminded me of when I lost my father suddenly 20 years ago. ‘Your father has died’; four small words whispered into my just waking ear, and my world spun, dissolved and I lost two weeks as my mind tried to catch up with the new reality that didn’t include my Dad.

I’m struck by how we are collectively reeling from loss upon loss, as the world we know transforms before our eyes. And this will continue. We are losing loved ones, mobility, function, jobs, routines, pay packets, income, contracts, goals, freedoms, trips, hugs, closeness, autonomy; we are losing our certainties and the security of our imagined futures.

And this can feel scary, like being in free-fall

And you begin to see that loss is a universal human experience from the seemingly minor; losing keys to what we consider major losses, like redundancy and bereavement. The emotions we feel at times of loss can be heightened, contradictory and obey no rhyme or reason.

Feelings of shock, disbelief, numbness, anger, despair, frustration, black humour, hopelessness and profound, heart wrenching sadness tumble through in no particular order. We catch our breath at the force of the waves of emotion crashing under our ribs.

And I am seeing anew the wisdom of our body mind system in the face of what can feel like a ceaseless battery of loss.

When our minds shut down, it is wisdom gently and beautifully saying ‘enough’ with trying to think your way through this. You can’t.

The body wisdom takes over to give your poor system a much needed breather. When tears fall at the security gate, the body is releasing pent up emotion that wants only to wash through. When the noise of unexpectedly ‘at home’, arguing children feels unbearable and you get propelled outside to breathe the cool night air, that is wisdom nudging you to minimise harm in the moment and give you a mini refresh.

When tempers flare and fights break out over toilet rolls in the aisles, or cereal at breakfast time, that too is a kind of wisdom, the misdirected survival instinct grabbing onto what looks like it would bring some comfort and security in these times of blindly charting the unknown territory ahead. The power surging through our systems, reminding us forcefully that we’re alive and being alive is a precious gift.

In some of the programmes I’ve delivered at a local mental health charity, loss is a recurring theme, but so too is renewal. As we adapt to living without the thing, function, person or imagined future we held so dear (and let’s admit, took for granted often), something gently beckons our attention.

It is the space that holds the loss. As we loosen our grip on the loss, our focal-length changes and the space comes into view. It is the space of the not yet known, the space of possibility, the space of infinite wisdom. The space where something new can flourish and grow.

And something new, always, always begins with a fresh thought

Throughout our lives, we have faced loss after loss and sometimes, without us even noticing that loss is transmuted into something achingly beautiful.

In the stinging freshness of raw loss, like lemon juice in a cut, we can’t conceive how this event could feel anything other than piercingly painful and yet, and yet our minds refresh our perspective again and again sometimes over years until one day, we think of the loss with gratitude and tenderness, as the kaleidoscope of experience is seen from the distance of months or years and its wondrous pattern is revealed.

And too, among the losses we think we cannot bear, we notice losses that leave us lighter of heart. Losing grudges, bitterness, jealousy, resentments, worrying, comparing, judging, criticising, competing, self-importance, fascination with our selves and being constantly offended or outraged. Finding the trivial and petty gently releasing its grip on us. These things lose their importance as the bigger picture comes into sharp relief.

And in their place we discover a new found kindness, compassion, humour, warmth and wonder spontaneously arising at this being human business.

And it gradually dawns on us we never did have control and our futures were never certain, we just told ourselves they were.

And while we have been going about our days, every day, millions have been experiencing loss and renewal over and over again. Because this is the nature of life.

These losses, the gentle falling away of beliefs, concepts and ideas that keep us grasping blindly for certainties that do not exist, these are the treasures. These are gifts. Like scales falling from our eyes, they enable us to feel our shared humanity, our intimate interconnectedness.

As our sense of separation recedes, the world can transform before our eyes

And transforming it is.

As the world’s foot eases back on the accelerator of intense human activity we notice losses we can marvel at: the loss of air pollution letting great swathes of urban populations breathe easier; the loss of noise pollution, as that background cacophony subsides, we notice birdsong and the sigh of wind in the trees; as the waterways of Venice are recovering from years of pollution, stories of sparkling clear water; as the rush of the commute grinds to a halt, couples, families, neighbours and communities are discovering each other, as if for the first time.

And as with any adjustment, at first it may be bumpy, but as we collectively re-set, we may uncover something extraordinarily beautiful in the ordinariness of just being, being alive, loving each other, helping each other, caring for the earth and all its creatures.

We are already seeing things that looked inconceivable just last week (some countries are ahead of others with this, but surely more will follow?): financial support for the vulnerable, sharing of resources more equitably, care for those who are scared, failing, lonely or sick. Businesses turning their resources towards the common good, people offering their skills, time, expertise or funds to help others.

A collective reset on what we value: the carers, the teachers, the healthcare workers, the trash collectors, the childcare providers, the farmers and growers, the volunteers, the millions of helpers who have always been there. And that’s just in the short term.

A volunteer working on our organic veg box scheme in the 1990s, wisely observed (having grown up in Chile):

‘the two most undervalued roles in the Western world are: raising children and growing food; yet they are fundamental to life’.

Volunteer Tony

Perhaps that is about to change.

Imagine what this upheaval and loss may open up in the longer term. New ways of working; new types of economies, new ways of caring for ourselves, each other and our planet.

Now at this time of accelerated loss, let’s collectively join hands in virtual solidarity as we open our hearts and eyes wide to the grief yes, but also to the unimaginable vastness of the unknown which has always been before us.

We like to make up certainties because we imagine that way safety lies. Those certainties obscure the fact that your next moment to moment experience is entirely unknown and up for grabs. Not what’s going to happen out there but what your ever changing experience is inside.

And change does not have to take years or be hard.

Innovation is the offspring of chaos

And what initiates innovation? Simply, a new thought that takes you not just to an adjustment but to an as yet unknown reality that can arrive in the mind of a person or a group in the blink of an eye.

And innovation creates its own momentum. Instead of seeing reasons why not, we begin to see possibilities we never imagined.

Now is not the time for timid steps, but for giant leaps of faith

As those certainties dissolve, we may discover in the midst of our grief, something extraordinary and yet so simple. Something we’ve always known.

Certainties are false idols

They do not provide the security we crave. That comes from within. From a deep knowing that we are intimately and intricately connected to all life. A knowing that what arises in us and through us comes from a far greater intelligence than we can comprehend.

A knowing that life is a mystery and that’s what makes it so profoundly awe inspiring. Knowing too that change is the only constant. Experience is life in motion. All the ups and downs, highs and lows, that’s what life is, a wild ride and we are asked simply to surrender to it.

Feeling the pull, following the thread of what our hearts know is true, grounds us into a quiet knowing, a knowing that ‘all shall be well, all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well’ (Julian of Norwich) even as we grip the rails for this white knuckle ride. When it neither looks nor feels okay.

As we begin to wonder at what powers us, and all life, we begin to see certainties are nothing more than a figment of our imagination. Let’s face it: sometimes things work out as we planned; mostly they don’t. In the end, there is nothing but this present moment.

The past has gone; the future will never happen. The present is all you can ever lose

As we reel from loss upon loss, take heart dear ones, open your heart to all of it: the outrageous grief, the disbelief, the dismay the howling hysterics as toddlers, teenagers and adults with jangled nerves throw tantrums right, left and centre and let those things course through you like the storms they are.

And as they subside, let your heart overflow with the unbearable tenderness of memories of loved ones, moments of raucous laughter, sunlight falling on the kitchen sink and inappropriate belly laughs that lighten the weight of fear.

And notice, just there, just out of focus is a sense of peace, amid the cacophony of unchained emotion. Look to it.

Know that all this is just the ride, not the essence of what we are. Take your time, be gentle, wrap yourself in love and more love; care for yourself as if you were indeed just getting over ‘the flu’.

As I sit, high above the clouds in an Airbus flying over Greenland, appreciating the magic and the mayhem of air travel (and wondering how the industry may evolve), I recall the lovely story of the Chinese farmer. This is how I remember it….

There was once a poor Chinese farmer who had a horse he used to plough his field. One day, the horse escaped and ran away. The farmers’ neighbours rushed round when they heard the news and said, ‘how terrible!’ The Chinese farmer replied,

“We’ll see”

The next day, the farmer heard the sound of hooves approaching. His horse had returned bringing with him a wild horse. The farmer opened the gate and in they came. When his neighbour’s heard about this great good fortune, they came rushing round to see the new horse. ‘How wonderful’, they said. The Chinese farmer replied,

“We’ll see”

The following day, the farmer’s son, excited by the arrival of the wild horse, decided to try and ride it. The horse bolted and the young man was thrown to the ground, breaking his leg in the fall. The neighbours, eager to commiserate at this terrible bad luck, came to visit saying, ‘how awful, what will you do?”. The Chinese farmer replied

“We’ll see”

The country was at war and the very next day the local recruiting officer arrived to conscript the young men from the village. The Chinese farmer’s son was not fit for duty and so they passed him over. The neighbours heard the news, and were eager to congratulate the farmer on his good fortune. But the Chinese farmer replied, you guessed it,

“We’ll see”

Wishing you all well at this time.

Love Juliet

Afterword: As I opened my front door after 24 hours of travel, I marvelled at how the inspiration to write this came through and occupied me on and off through the long, long journey, away from my love, towards home. The kindness of wisdom can be breathtaking. 

Poem: spiral

Poem: spiral

It is the way of things
To start at the beginning
And return home
Again and again.

Journeying through
Spirals of unknowing.
Bumping up against
Lost parts of our experience

Like amputated limbs,
Ghostly presences, felt
In the body system
Unable to depart

***

At times the heart opens
Views the world
Through Love Goggles
Rosier by the day

***

Now and then the lost part
Cries out for recognition
And Fear Goggles
Turn the lights out.

Plunging the world into
Darkness, full of shadows
Perils at every turn
Waiting to consume us

***

The spiral turns again
Love rises embracing
The lost limb
Honouring its presence

Feeling its pain and
Desolation. Its
Howl of terror
Echoing through the night

***

The limb, the part, the belief
Illuminated for the first time
Shows its magnificence
The knight in shining armour

Always keeping you safe.
And now its work is done
We humbly thank and
Praise its tireless service

The iron grip releases
The lost part dissolves
Returns to source
For a happy retirement

***

In saying farewell
There is no triumph
Or victory song.
The spiral turns

A phantom emerged
Revealed and released
Who knows what more
Will come as the spiral

Turns and turns again.

© Juliet Fay 2018

While we continue to believe that parts of our experience (emotions) must be excluded, we will experience a painful dichotomy in our experience. It is this belief itself that needs to be loved and held and accepted as being present so that it too can dissolve and fall away.. Be seen for what it is …. a thought oft repeated that has become a belief and has guided and protected us until we no longer needed its guidance and protection. Humbly thank it and wish it farewell as it departs.

***

Why our cognitive function is a brilliant tool (when used appropriately)

Why our cognitive function is a brilliant tool (when used appropriately)

As tools to communicate, social media platforms are fantastically efficient: fast, (mostly) free and easy to access and they provide a whole world of connections, information and inspiration.

However when we begin to mis-use our social media feeds: say constantly checking our Facebook feed to get a hit of feeling good or begin to compare ourselves negatively with others or simply use it to distract ourselves from engaging in tasks we dislike, the Facebook feed no longer serve us and can become a hindrance to being or doing in the world as we would wish.

This is not the fault of the social media platforms, simply a result of how we use them. How nice it is when we switch off our social media feed for a while. Returning to our feed after a break, we get reminded too what a great tool it can be when we are clear about when it’s helpful and when it’s not.

Our social media feed is not so different from our cognitive function

Our cognitive function, our ability to reason and make judgement is a fabulous tool which is incredibly helpful when we are faced with certain problems, tasks or projects such as building a bridge, baking a cake, learning to play an instrument, organising a party, booking travel plans, doing our tax returns or buying tickets.

Where would we be without it?

It excels at assembling facts, looking critically at information, making judgements, weighing up pros and cons and coming to conclusions. All very useful skills in some areas of life. Imagine the world if this function did not exist?

But our analysing and judging capabilities are really, really rubbish when it comes to matters of the heart.

By matters of the heart, I mean that search for a sense of peace, well-being and connectedness which lies at the heart of what all human beings yearn for. We may not express it that way. We may express it as a yearning for a partner, a rewarding job, a family, good mental or physical health but these just look like ways we might get to feel these things, to feel ‘happy’.

The cognitive brain is really, really bad at helping us feel connected and peaceful. 

In that arena, the cognitive mind is no use at all. It’s simply the wrong tool for the job.

Do you hear the calling?

There is in each of us a deep deep yearning. A yearning to be at rest, at peace. It is a yearning that propels people up mountains, to run marathons to meditation and yoga classes, into nature or reaching for the top of the career ladder or aspiring to drive a nice car. We reach blindly for things out there, mistakenly believing in that yoga class, in that summiting of the mountain, in that winning of that promotion, we will find what we seek.

The yearning to be at rest, to experience peace, comes from a desire to feel complete, okay, satisfied. To rest in the space where there is nothing to be done, no goals to be achieved, no expectations to be met.

Yet ironically we act on the belief that it is in the doing, setting goals, meeting expectations that we will find our happiness, not realising that mistaken belief, in itself, takes us away from our natural state of rest and well-being.

(How different it feels when we engage in activities because they occur to us, because they appeal to us, because they are fun or would be cool, rather than doing things in order to ‘feel better/whole.’)

The yearning is a kind of knowing

Knowing what is good for us, knowing what we need, knowing what we truly are. Underneath the business of judgements, opinions and criticism, underneath the ups and downs of mood, underneath the ebb and flow of life events, there is a space that some call home. A space we know intimately. It’s a space where the chatter of our cognitive thinking is less dominant, matters less. Where experience just happens without analysis and commentary. It is a space where all is well.

Rather like the addictive checking of a social media feed, we have mistakenly given far too much importance to what our cognitive brain thinks about everything, from how we feel on waking, what we had for breakfast, how much our neighbour’s dog barks, what our partner said last week, how we were brought up, the state of the world and the weather.

Rather than making use of this powerful and remarkable tool to help us create and serve others, we have got carried away with the idea that the cognitive function is there to make us feel better. So it sets to work doing what the cognitive function does: analysing, correlating and drawing conclusions. Which would be fine, except that being at peace and feeling connected does not occur through analysis. It is our natural state and occurs when we fall out of that way of thinking.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could switch off our cognitive brain like we can shut off our social media feed? And actually just log in to it when it is of use to us. Any time we feel wide open and curious, not engaged in judgement, criticism, opinions, should’s and shouldn’ts we touch a space where all is well, everything is wide open, everything is possible and we are at peace. And it is a space where fresh, helpful ideas can arise and be heard.

How do we fall into that space more often ?

I’m not sure it is in our gift to determine exactly when we fall into it and when we don’t but perhaps we can increase the odds. These things may help:-

  • Recognising when we are in that space,  ~ that’s anytime we feel warm and at peace, full of love, happily engaged in something, any time we feel all is well (even though emotions and events may be going up and down around us)
  • Knowing that space is there and not dependent on an activity or being in a particular place, or with a particular person
  • Knowing we’ll fall in and out of it, so there’s no sense in trying to hold on to it
  • Knowing we can’t ‘think’ our way into that space
  • Going with the ebb and flow without struggle or strain
  • Recognising what takes us away from that space, i.e. getting engaged with our cognitive mind, identifying with thoughts as if they were personal
  • Recognising we are not our thoughts or feelings ~ they are transitory and can do us no harm if we leave them alone
  • Appreciating being in that space ~ being grateful for that
  • Opening ourselves to being in it more often helps.
  • Listening deeply, with nothing on our mind, when on your own
  • Listening deeply, with nothing on our mind, to others
  • Not worrying when we are not in it.

The space is always there. Only our awareness of being in it goes in and out, in and out, like the tide.

And rather like our social media feed, if we get too obsessed and start trying to use our cognitive mind for purposes it wasn’t designed for, i.e. to try and find peace of mind, we’ll start to feel yucky. It will feel sticky and stressful and not okay and we might notice we feel tired and cranky. It’s a nudge we are using the wrong tool. Let it be. Look away.

Willingness to turn away from the cognitive mind (not being seduced by FOMO ~ fear of missing out), and just falling into our natural state, hearing and feeling that deep yearning that longs for your busy cognitive mind to fade out, that will luxuriate in the space that is always there, beyond that.

I’d love to hear what comes up for you on reading this article. Please add any comments, questions, reflections or insights below.

I’m Juliet Fay, based in West Wales, UK, a writer, Marketing Geek and Three Principles Facilitator. Join my list for updates and this free e-booklet, ‘Plagued with doubt? A simple way throughTo learn more about the Three Principles, as articulated by Sydney Banks, ask to join Love Your Life Again (moods & how to survive them), a free Facebook group I host. This is an extension of the work I do at a local mental health charity facilitating conversations with members, staff and volunteers.

How goodwill refreshes the parts other states cannot reach

How goodwill refreshes the parts other states cannot reach

During the festive season, ordinary streets and buildings are lit up by hundreds of tiny fairy lights. One or two strings of lights would have little impact but as hundreds and thousands of lights go on, for a few short weeks, we create a magical world.

In the same way, a little bit of goodwill when brought to our workplaces, our communities, our families and ourselves, has the power to transform our world. When many of us bring goodwill to bear, the changes can be remarkable.

When we feel out of sorts and ill-tempered, we fall to blaming and criticising what is before us: our circumstances, our environment, our leaders, our co-workers, our loved ones, ourselves.

Through the filter of ill-temper other people are rude and uncaring and the world seems full of potholes and bumps.

But then goodwill rises.

Our hearts expand, our load lightens and the world transforms. We breathe a little easier. The world seems to spin a little slower on its axis and space opens up in our mental landscape.

The tautness we carry in our forehead, neck, shoulders, stomach, fingers or calves releases and we feel a little softer in our skin.

And people change. Faults turn into foibles. The world stops revolving around the me that feels wounded or attacked and instead we feel the humanity in the caring and sharing, the strife and the woe.

Those difficult people are suddenly just like us, doing the best they can. The annoying habits become endearing. Resilience shines through stories of hardship and terror.

Hope springs.

And how do we get to a feeling of goodwill I hear you ask?

It is what remains when the mind is free and clear. When the ‘shoulds’ and ‘oughts’ fall away. When we are graced with the knowing to embrace what is rather than worrying about what isn’t.

And in that gentle place of goodwill, we soften towards the ‘slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.’ Turning away from slights and hurts, giving them no dwelling place in our hearts, letting them glance off us, we return to that peaceful, easy feeling that refreshes and renews ourselves and others. The more goodwill we extend, the more goodwill shows up.

Imagine a world illuminated with goodwill.

***

I’m Juliet Fay, based in West Wales, UK, a writer, Marketing Geek and Three Principles Facilitator. Join my list for updates and this free e-booklet, ‘Plagued with doubt? A simple way throughTo learn more about the Three Principles, as articulated by Sydney Banks, ask to join Love Your Life Again (moods & how to survive them), a free Facebook group I host. This is an extension of the work I do at a local mental health charity facilitating conversations with members, staff and volunteers.

Trying to settle down versus allowing yourself to settle down

Trying to settle down versus allowing yourself to settle down

When you shake up a bottle of water with sand inside, the sand swirls around frantically until you set the bottle down. Then the sand slowly sinks to the bottom and the water gradually clears.

It takes a little time.

There is nothing you can do to that bottle of sand to make it settle faster. In fact everything you do, such as tipping it, inverting it, lying it down, shaking it, will impede the settling down.

The mind is like that.

Left undisturbed, it’s natural state is one of being settled down. The agitated sand is like our racing thoughts that swirl around. Shaking the bottle is like getting stuck in thinking that takes us into a low mood and keeps us stuck there. Going round and round with the same, stale old thoughts, keeps us stuck in the same stressful feeling state.

But once the sand settles, we realise what looked to be a bottle full of sand is actually a bottle full of clear water with just a little sand at the bottom. When we begin to look away from the swirling sand, we notice the calm, clear water, the stillness and from that place of peace and clarity, new thoughts, wisdom, arises and our world transforms.

Yet paradoxically you cannot settle your mind down by ‘trying’. It is an allowing not a forcing. It is easy, light, open and relaxed not tight and full of effort. The sand in the bottle won’t settle more quickly if you mess about with it. In fact that has the opposite effect.

Trying to make yourself settle down is like wading into the middle of a beautiful mountain lake and trying to smooth out the ripples you are creating by flailing your arms around in the water.

To let the water settle, you have to get out.

Get out of the water. Get out of the way.

Then you’ll notice how beautiful the water is.

***

I’m Juliet Fay, based in West Wales, UK, a writer, Marketing Geek and Three Principles Facilitator. Join my list for updates and this free e-booklet, ‘Plagued with doubt? A simple way throughTo learn more about the Three Principles, as articulated by Sydney Banks, ask to join Love Your Life Again (moods & how to survive them), a free Facebook group I host. This is an extension of the work I do at a local mental health charity facilitating conversations with members, staff and volunteers.