These are for you, friends

This weekend I have been thinking about the women in my life who are wonderful. That’s all of you really. Yep, that includes you, and especially you.

That I have so many faces coming to mind strikes me as deeply special, as I have a weird predilection not to be too trusting, and to keep what I perceive to be a protective bit of distance between myself and other humans.

It may appear that I’m quite open, a wears-her-heart-on-her-sleeve type, and I think that’s true, to a degree. I also have a pretty good game face that I deploy to, I imagine, keep me ‘above the fray’ or something like that.

I hadn’t planned to write about this, so it’s not going to be a definitive, polished blog post. That’s okay with me.

This month I decided I wanted to spend time each day being creative. Over the past 48 hours I’ve tinkered with a watercolour in my sketchbook. It’s a simple subject, a vase of flowers, drawn from my imagination.

As I painted it, considered the colours and shapes, waited for it to dry, added detail, came back to it, photographed it, I realised I was painting it for you. For the women in my life whom I love and appreciate so much.

Perhaps I’ll never meet some of you face to face, yet we have connected.

I will not allow myself to get into specifics, because my memory WILL fail me and I do not want anybody to feel excluded.

This I’ll allow myself – sitting with you, receiving words of affirmation from you, tap-tap-tapping out conversations with you online, feeling known by you even though we may not have (yet) met face to face, bear hugs, being so practically supported when I’ve been in dire straits, laughing easily with you, telling you I’m scared or feeling vulnerable, knowing I’m not in this alone. These are the most precious moments in my life.

Being permitted to speak honestly, to encourage, to cheer for you in any tiny ways I have – ooof, it brings me undone. It makes me cry, it is such a privilege to be allowed into another person’s heart. Sheesh.

Flowers for friends

So friends, these flowers are for you.

You are an immensely important human.

You have such depth and wisdom, courage and love inside of you.

Remember to look yourselves in the eye when you brush your teeth and give yourselves a wink and a kind word.

You make my life richer.

Thank you,

Annette xxxxx

Tree School Revisited

One from the archives while I try and find my words again..

 

Trees have a kind of magical power in my life. (Thank you, Enid Blyton!) 

When I look at them, I gain perspective. 

Summer trees aren’t better than winter trees, because it’s not about the number of leaves a tree has, its about the tree itself. 

A tree is tenacious, strong, grounded, life giving. 

It doesn’t become more or less of a tree because of what it’s wearing. 

It doesn’t become more or less of itself, because of what it’s wearing. 

Why do we struggle to learn this lesson from the trees? 

It isn’t about our leaves. 

Worth doesn’t come from your wardrobe. 

When I wear my cobalt blue jumper, I feel great, but it is just a feeling. The jumper isn’t magic. It doesn’t change me. 

Worth certainly doesn’t come from your car or your bank balance or your job title. It doesn’t come from your marital status, or your progeny and how well they behave in a cafe. It doesn’t come from the step count on your Fitbit or the number of projects you’re juggling. 

All of these things have an impact on how we feel about ourselves, but they aren’t who we are. 

Somehow though, we have bought into this lie, that the leaves – our outward appearance, our accomplishments and the badges we wear – mother, wife, healthy person, clever person, caring person, martyr – matter most. 

They don’t. They don’t matter at all in the grand scheme of things. Yet it seems they have so much power over us. 

I think we sometimes use these things as a salve for our souls, or props on the set of our lives. 

If I can just wear the right outfit, if my kids behave, if I get that job, if I’m “on track”, if I weigh XX kilos, then I’m okay. Do you ever feel like that? 

Because you’re here reading, I feel like we have some kind of relationship, so I have an invitation for you. 

I invite you to ponder this lesson from the trees. 

Think about the human equivalent of leaves – our clothes, validation through others, work, weight…. what role do they play in your life? What power have you assigned to them? While you’re pondering these things, please practice self-compassion. ❤️

After I sketched this tree yesterday, I got to thinking about my great aunt Adeline, who was a gifted artist. I was thinking about her style of painting and my style, and how different they are. She painted trees, and I sketch them.  They are identifiably trees in both instances, but they aren’t the same. 

We are like that too, you and I. 

We aren’t all the same, but we are all people. 

We all have worth and value. 

That doesn’t depend on the season, or the leaves, it simply is. 

You can’t earn it, you can’t get it from others, and you certainly can’t buy it or wear it. 

You can only realise and embrace it. 

Maybe that’s why the trees say wishawishawisha, because that’s the highest wish you can have for anyone. 

Learn from the trees. And please let me know what you hear them wishing for you. 

With love, 

Annette x