Where are you placing your faith?
After a catch-up last Friday with this amazing group of women, a much-needed natter in a restaurant I hadn’t tried before, I found myself on the journey home feeling filled and uplifted.
Reflecting on the many conversations we had about what’s happening nationally and internationally, the one conclusion I can now draw is that hate will eventually destroy itself. I have faith that, in the long run, and it may well be a very long run, hate is not sustainable.
Like a balloon being continually inflated, it will eventually self-destruct.
This is where I am placing my faith.
I have learned over the years that when one’s mind is made up, this diminishes fear – Rosa Parks.
Thank you, @Sasi Panchal, @Jess Rogers, @Hira Ali, and @Claudia Crawley for helping me to feel less fearful.
A place of sanctuary
With everything that has been going on, I have been thinking about the word sanctuary:
A sanctuary is a place of safety, refuge, or holiness. It is most commonly used to describe a secure haven for people or animals facing danger, a consecrated space for religious worship, or a personal space where someone can find peace and quiet.
Seeing this definition reminds me that sanctuary operates on many levels and will mean slightly different things to each of us. These days, as I go about my business in the world, I no longer feel quite as safe as I did a few short years ago.
Because I believe sanctuary starts with us as individuals and radiates out to groups, societies and the countries where people reside. So, ask yourself, what sanctuary can I provide if needed? How safe might people feel around me?
And here I want to make the distinction between comfort and safety. You may not always feel comfortable around me, and, in all honesty, I can, by and large, live with that, but you should always, always feel safe.
So one last question, where are your places of sanctuary?
Outside of my home (making this explicit because, for some, home is not a sanctuary, not a place of safety), I can share three:
@Diverse Executive Coaches Directory – set up by @Jenny Garrett
@Afrori Books in Brighton – where we hold our Off the Page, Open Mics
@Women’s Journaling & Writing Circle set up by @Fiona Parashar and @Jackee Holder
Whatever, wherever, whoever your sanctuary is, treasure it, treasure them.
A place of Sanctuary
A space
Where all are welcome
None turned away
They sit, stay as long as needed
Let time stretch
Undulate gently
Rest
All are welcome
Lest we forget
Take from that what you will.
Finding the magic within
It’s not every day you have the opportunity to stand on a stage and say with your full chest, ‘ Infamy, infamy, they’ve all got it in for me.’ The famous line uttered by Kenneth Williams as Julius Caesar in the 1964 comedy Carry on Cleo.
At last week’s Age is a Stage, we were invited to stand at the front of the stage at the Theatre Royal, Brighton and project to an imaginary audience. I chose the infamy line. It has always made me laugh, though I am not sure I managed to deliver it with the same dramatic interpretation as Kenneth Williams, but I certainly gave it a go.
You can see a short clip from the original film via the link.
Another bit of goofiness from Age is a Stage involved turning an everyday activity—like ironing, having a coffee, or emptying the bins—into an opera.
I’m still smiling about the three people who shared their take on three bin men and their trials and tribulations with broken bin bags, bins not left in the right place, and wheelie bins with minds of their own. I might have made up that last part. But I laughed myself silly watching their skit, as the three of them were perfectly in sync and riffing off each other. Inspired, I think, by Gilbert and Sullivan.
It was a delight to watch, and it is another reason I look forward to these sessions on Fridays at the Theatre Royal, Brighton. Whenever I have the opportunity to step onto the stage, something magical seems to happen within me.
So, I’m curious: where and when do you find the magic within yourself?
Celebrating a full-circle moment
Swimming alongside our daughter at our local pool recently reminded me of those days when I taught her to swim.
After countless enrolments in different classes at various swim schools, I finally decided to do it myself. I could see that something just wasn’t working, and I was determined that no child of mine would be unable to swim.
So each Saturday morning, I’d load up the car with ourselves and a yellow Noodle, and off we’d go.
We started in the shallows, playing with the Noodle, using it as a buoyancy aid. I could never be bothered with blow-up arm bands; they seemed too much of a faff.
This went on for months; I lost track of how many, until the day my daughter asked if she could try without the Noodle, and then that was it. Every session after that involved time without the noodle, and gradually she, she learnt to feel confident floating in water and then swimming. Something I’d learnt at the International School of Swimming as an adult, where the approach was to float first and then swim.
Once they were confident enough to swim a couple of lengths, I enrolled them in a swimming club, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Seeing them confidently move through the water was one of those full-circle moments, and it remains one of the achievements I am most proud of: teaching our daughter to swim.
Until next time