I’ve been fortunate recently to have a bit more unstructured time on my hands and a little more space. Taking the leap to work completely for myself has felt like a big gulp of cool fresh air. And, I’ve also noticed my minds response to the new unknown ground… how it quite naturally leans into wanting to know. What am I doing? What should I be doing? What should my life look like? I’m noticing quite a few ‘shoulds’, and at times a creeping pressure on myself.

And whilst these questions might feel relevant, I’m aware of  needing to not get into thinking too much about it. Not trying to work it all out, lock it down or fill the space. This more ‘doing’ state of mind is great at strategizing / planning / remembering (which I’m also needing to do, to move things forward), but unfortunately when applied to the bigger questions of our human life, and matters of the heart, it just doesn’t work.

But I have been making more space for reflection – and that feels quite different. When I’m in more of a ‘being’ state of mind, there’s an immediacy and intimacy with my experience (being with this discomfort of not knowing), rather than abstracting and resisting (trying to change what’s here by getting rid of the discomfort, perhaps by filling up space or having a master plan).

This kind of enquiry doesn’t necessarily seek clear answers but instead loves the questions. When I’m in this mode of just allowing things to be a bit more, often things become clearer. And I’m definitely my most creative. When I stop trying to work it out, things naturally begin to reveal themselves and I can choose to respond.

And then there’s time for simply resting back. Hearing this gorgeous poem recently was a helpful reminder to do just that and stop trying to work it all out…

… and in this delicious sunshine, it’s not so hard.

Mystery

Let mystery have its place in you;

do not be always turning up your whole soil with the ploughshare of self-examination,

but leave a little fallow corner in your heart ready for any seed the winds may bring,

and reserve a nook of shadow for the passing bird;

keep a place in your heart for the unexpected guests, an altar for the unknown God.

Then if a bird sing among your branches, do not be too eager to tame it.

If you are conscious of something new—thought or feeling, wakening in the depths of your being—

do not be in a hurry to let in light upon it, to look at it;

let the springing germ have the protection of being forgotten,

hedge it round with quiet, and do not break in upon its darkness.

Henri Frederic Amiel