‘A child who cannot sit still is a half-developed child.’ – Luther Standing Bear.
The COVID-19 virus is moving swiftly across our world and life is changing rapidly for us all. We’re having to make tough choices and find ways to navigate new terrain as this unpredictable story unfurls.
I’m so inspired and impressed by fellow creative companies and individuals in their response to this crisis, the kindness, suggestions and the ideas, which abound across social media channels and e-mail. I haven’t joined in and I wonder why not… As a storyteller trainer one of the things I urge storytellers to do is to live with questions, not to answer them too quickly. I have learnt to sit with many questions since I find that the reward of the question is often greater when I don’t try to answer it prematurely.
Since my personal world turned upside down 18 months ago, with the death of John, my husband and business partner, I’ve been questioning what is my biggest vision for myself and my company? What my hope is for my work and my being? What is the point of my shows? I have been racing for a long time and now I wonder if I need to hold some of the stillness? For those of you who know me you might be thinking that this doesn’t seem likely, since I find it almost impossible to be still!
But in this crisis, whilst I feel I should jump in and ‘do something’, share my stories and my knowledge, I also have an overwhelming desire to be still, to do nothing. I am asking myself, very quietly and a little ashamedly, what if I shouldn’t be offering to support and take care of lots of people but instead to focus on my core, my team and my family? I’m wrestling with whether or not I’m a ‘good person’.
Lots and lots of people are jumping straight into action – Is this what I should be doing too? ‘Should’ is a strange word.
Am I afraid to stand up and be counted? I know that I don’t want to be in-authentic or to do something in order to gain approval or more ‘likes’… I’m not naturally political or an advocate but why am I not ‘helping’ in the bigger arena? I love what others are doing and sometimes kick myself for not thinking about that too, as if it’s a competition. In these moments I have to remind myself that each of us can support and help each other in different ways.
I’m deeply grateful to those whose role, vision, mission is different from mine. May we all stand in our rightful place and hold that which is ours to hold in our hearts and minds.
What I feel more than anything is that I need to be still, to rest – to let the world rest. To listen to the birds singing – to remember my experience on Mount Shasta…
Often it seems that we can’t change what’s taking place with the virus but we can change how we respond – there’s pain, heartache, anxiety and fear but there could also be an opportunity here too. I feel hesitant to say it, it sounds glib in the face of people fighting to survive, dying, not able to feed themselves, but I feel it nonetheless – this possible gift… the whisper of a gift that we could give to the planet, to Mother Earth, if we could calm ourselves enough – be still enough, not try to fix everything but to come inwards and rest a while… watch for a moment.
Things are changing rapidly and we’re not really wired to like change – our urge is to resist it with all our might… But what if we could allow this change, not to fight it but to flow with it?
Instead of racing to the shops to cram our cupboards full, to stockpile, to build up a barricade in order to push away change, what if we were to be still, silent, listen to our own heartbeats… gently share stories with our families, allow ourselves to feel the fear, the loneliness and time ticking… the earth breathing? What if…
Is it time for us to be patient and gentle and a little inactive. Or at least have this choice in the way we respond? I want to ‘help’ but first I want to sense the shift and allow it in me – so I’m not trying to resist.
What is the story here? In order to hear it I have to be quiet and still.
I find myself asking that I may serve our planet, our world, our society, my community, my colleagues and my family with integrity and grace. May I find peace and joy inside me so that I can share this, in small ways, in whatever way feels right.
Today I have an urge to speak about the environment, the natural world – the nature and weather beings who are able to breathe more easily when we slow down and take less, the earth can repair when we are more still, more conscious, more generous and kind… Could we allow this vicious and unpredictable virus to bring something magical to us – to our communities, to each other, to ourselves?
I share this story from Mount Shasta…
In 1996 John and I were invited to this sacred mountain, to one of the annual gathering of the Wintun Nations.
We felt honoured and humbled as we made our way up to their camp, unsure what to expect, but as we pitched our tent we were greeted warmly by all. Later that evening as the sun began to set one of the Elders addressed the whole camp, welcoming the assembled crowd, including an open invitation to help with various jobs required around camp, one such task was in the kitchen, preparing meals for everyone throughout our time together. This invitation came with guidelines which I remember very clearly, which were that no-one was to offer their help and service out of a sense of duty or obligation but only with a clear heart – this was especially important in the kitchen as this would affect our food. I listened deeply.
As the weekend progressed, each day, each meal, I asked myself if I was able to be in the kitchen with an open heart. Every day I felt the same response, that I would only be going because I felt I should.
It felt uncomfortable to my normal choleric, action-filled personality. I beat myself up that I wasn’t participating and engaging more… but in all integrity I couldn’t, as my whole being wanted to rest and do nothing.
Out of respect for the people I stayed away.
I sat in contemplation, I chatted and shared and listened to stories with those around me. I walked slowly and spoke gently. I reflected, observed and drank in the rituals and ceremonies on offer. I felt blessed and peaceful and full of gratitude that I was receiving so much.
Towards the end of camp a woman I hadn’t notice before approached and sat next to me.
I was so surprised.
Throughout the whole period I’d been wrestling with my inner demons, thoughts of being lazy, of taking advantage, of being selfish and of only looking after myself.
We chatted a little more. I admired her coat and she took it off.
I have taken much from this experience, not least a deep belief that when we live with integrity and conscience we will find the right course of action. I will be forever grateful for the wisdom, insight and deep learning of this moment, of this woman. Tears still spring to my eyes when I remember this exchange.
I feel honoured and humbled to have shared that time, on that sacred ground with these people.