Ch-ch-ch-changes

I am learning that the most important thing I can do in the studio is not to offer more nuanced instructions or suggest more props – although these things are helpful – but to offer more silence. To deeply listen, to truly see, and to hold the space as lightly as I can, so that you can feel comfortable expressing yourself, whether this is through saying the unsayable, changing your position or simply going to sleep. You don't need me to 'fix' you.

I am a fixer by nature, and spent many years wrangling my own life into shape, forcing things to be a certain way. I failed (spectacularly) at being honest about the way things actually were, and I ignored the many and varied signs that my body sent me, begging and pleading me to slow down, pay attention, listen, wake up, and see what is.

It is a difficult thing to do – face up to uncomfortable truths. We all have them, from accepting that a relationship has ended, having children who are challenging all our beliefs about how we mother, to the realities of aging and the complications this can bring, in terms of physical and mental wellbeing. The diagnosis confirmed. The symptoms accumulating. Lifestyles adjusted. Plans shattered. Accommodations made, necessarily but unwillingly.

Retreat Leaves - Anita Cheeseman

This is what I know to be true – the only constant is change. The plans we make, the hopes we have, are an exercise in faith, they are not cast in stone. Perhaps the change is temporary, and the adjustment needed is just that. Or perhaps not, and there is the uncertainty of what lies ahead. In this space, when all feels out of control, what can you do? Well, you can continue to stay in your head, your poor swirling head that is awash with predictions and catastrophes yet to come. You can continue to wrestle with your body, push it into shapes it is no longer asking for or capable of. You can work against yourself as a form of distraction or punishment or torment. And these things may well work, for a while. They will probably distract you from the deep underlying sadness that is rising like a tide within. Eventually it will come forth and you might feel like you are losing your grip but the truth is, this is when you will find it. When you let the wave of loss and fear and regret and sadness wash over you, there will be a letting go, but also a reaching out. You may then be in a place to share with others, allow yourself to receive support, and accept the lifelines that you couldn't see through eyes blurred with tears.

To resist when times are tough is natural. It is human nature to seek equanimity. Yet if we are to live with grace and ease, learning to sit with what is becomes invaluable. 'Acceptance' can sound passive, but it can also simply be a recognition of the way this moment is. Maybe you have a situation in your own life that is challenging, heart breaking or unsettling. Or all three. Can you, just for a moment, accept it? Accept that it is yet another part of the mosaic of your life?

In this moment, what is one small thing you can do? It might be as simple as taking a few deep breaths. Making a cup of tea. Stepping outside to listen to the birds, or look at the moon. Recall a fond memory. Smile. Cry. Release. Accept, with as much grace as you can muster in the moment, that it all belongs.

I hear your stories and my heart breaks, yet I have let go of feeling like I need to 'fix' you. How ridiculous to have ever thought that I could! Know that I hold your stories and your hurt close, and I hope that whether in the studio or at home, you can allow yourself a pocket of time to simply be, moment to moment to moment, lingering however briefly, in a place of compassionate acceptance.

With love

❤️

Amanda xx