Finding freedom
MINDFUL MOMENTS # 148
I did that thing that retired people do: forgetting the days of the week, yet every now and again I would realise another Friday had passed, and no Mindful Moments written. Rest assured, I was thinking of you.
Having a full inbox when I got home helped me to clarify which email lists I wanted to stay subscribed to. I hope, after our little hiatus apart, you will either be more inclined to keep me, or more sure that you no longer require my mindful addition to your inbox. Either way, I salute you for honouring what you need.
It’s hard to distill five weeks of travel experience down into something readable, meaningful or accurate. “Your trip looks so great!” or “Yes, it was fab, thanks!” are the usual routes we take. But how do we describe the internal route we took, the emotions we traversed? Much like We’re Going On A Bear Hunt (clearly, I’ve been to a few baby showers recently), emotions are things we can’t go around, or under or over: we have to go through them.
We do this thing a lot as humans, where we project ourselves forward onto this ideal, futuristic reality: “I’ll feel so much better once I’m…and complete with [in a relationship/single/on holiday/in my new job etc]”. Partly, of course, this can be true: a change of scene, a fresh environment can offer a much-needed change of perspective. But, importantly, we can’t leave ourselves behind: wherever you go, there you are. Your brain/body/mind/spirit all goes with you, from flight to car, to long bus ride and with your suitcase between hotel rooms; not even 5000 miles can force a separation from yourself.
Travelling is confronting. At one point I wrote in my journal: “Am I too comfortable with being comfortable?” which I believe may be a topic the MM newsletter has touched on in the past. I left behind comfort, routine and familiarity and traded it in for excitement, anticipation and new experiences. I pulled the rug out from under my feet and replaced it, really, with a magic carpet ride. How saccharine that sounds, except suddenly you’re flying high at 30,000 ft in a tiny aircraft where it’s just you, your best friend and two pilots and really, it’s quite accurate.
Before I left on my trip (to Costa Rica, in case I hadn’t mentioned it) I had a life-coaching session. This is a new venture. You may remember my newsletter about turning 30 (Now that I’m 30…) in which I suddenly felt I had left the troublesome turbulence of my 20s behind me and felt I could really sit back in my own power (eesh). I contacted a life coach to see if I could harness some of this feeling and transform it into meaningful, actionable change. She offered me things to think upon whilst I was away. In particular, she asked me: “What does FREEDOM feel like?”
My trip taught me the answer to this question:
that freedom exists on the other side of fear.
Without the backdrop of my comfortable routine, my old friends Worry and Anxiety came along for the ride - to protect me, of course. But for every boat or bus or plane journey I was worried about, the anxiety was always exceeded by my enjoyment of it (okay, maybe not the bus rides, because really, who likes them). A good friend said to me last night that with travelling comes higher highs and lower lows. I think this is spot on. These things are like coins, or double-edged swords, or Newton’s Third Law: each side is matched by its equal and its opposite.
My brain is still very much functioning in Spanish (I said ‘Si’ to a patient yesterday - I know, I’m practically fluent) but I’m reminded of one of my favourite phrases from A-Level French that I used to throw in whenever I could for extra brownie points: “l'autre côté de la médaille” - meaning, the other side of the coin.
It has been cathartic writing this newsletter, so thank you for giving me the space to write it. I feel best when I’m writing. In fact, I wrote the first paragraph of my book when I was away (who knows what the rest of it will say…!) and I want to share with you something I wrote after I wrote that paragraph:
“One night I ate alone and, in between mouthfuls, I wrote the first paragraph of a book, some book. I was feeling things strongly: both a profound connection to some deep inner part of me that provided the inspiration to write, but also to a reasonably intense loneliness. I am never happier than when I am with people - albeit, the right people - but perhaps I am never as creative as when I am by myself.”
In this case, the other side of the creative coin, was loneliness; it isn’t always, but that night, they were partners.
I guess what I’m saying is I’m grateful to the times I felt anxious or alone, because they gave way to feelings of creativity, gratitude, deep joy or excitement. Each tear shed in fear of some myriad possible negative outcome was matched (if not, improved) by bigger smiles and bigger sighs of relief and freedom.
Freedom felt like sighing; like realising there was nothing to fear; like peering over the edge expecting the worst, and seeing only the good.
I don’t often share photos on here, but I will share this one, because I think it captures that feeling of freedom and joy so clearly - and would you guess that the night before I was crying because I didn’t think I could get on the plane? Yet here I am, loving it!
Me on a tiny plane at 30,000 ft: freckled, happy, relieved - free!
Mindful moment: I’m trying to find acceptance in myself for feeling anxious. If you read back to the newsletter on my thoughts about turning 30, I talk so brazenly about being bored with feeling worried or afraid. I was beating myself up on this trip for feeling I had somehow regressed to my twenty-something self, preoccupied with fear and worry, when I thought, perhaps naively, that I had left that all behind. I’m coming to see that comfort zones are comfortable, so anxiety takes a back seat - of course! I also learnt what freedom feels like and that even though I felt anxious (for so many things on my trip) I did them all anyway (well, not the ziplining - did Toby from The Office not teach us anything, guys?) and found freedom waiting for me on the other side. Do I wish I didn’t have to go through the anxiety and the tears on my way to get there? Of course. But perhaps I can learn to accept and be grateful to that part of me that is just trying to do its best and which, once understood, gives way to experiences of joy and fearlessness. My wisdom for you, then, is to not reject or chastise yourself for those parts of you you wish weren’t there, because one day, you might look back and realise they served a purpose and - perhaps most importantly - you realise they make you who you are - with no bad parts.
YOGA
Mindful Movement
Join us every Saturday from 11am-12.15 at the Cornerstone Community Centre in Hove for an all-levels vinyasa yoga flow class, meditation and mindfulness (mats provided or bring your own).
£6 per class or £24 for 5.
I’m so looking forward to getting back into the routine of our Saturday classes!
Upcoming classes for your diary until August 2024:
April 6th, 13th, 20th.
May 11th, 18th, 25th;
June 1st, 8th, 15th, 22nd, 29th;
July 6th, 13th, 27th.
(or, if it’s easier (!) no classes: April 27th, May 4th, July 20th)
“Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing,
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning
and sang.”
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Welcome to the Community.
I'm Laura, a yoga teacher and NHS doctor. With this weekly newsletter I aim to help you incorporate mindful moments into your week. I want you to feel inspired, empowered and creative. I promise to always be authentic; to only include content that speaks to me and which, therefore, I hope will do the same for you.
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