Write to Find Perspective
Hello Dear One,
How are you? I hope staying afloat. This week I’m lucky enough to be beside the sea. It’s likely that travel might soon be restricted again where I live, so everything feels like a gift.
The house I’m in has a living room with two large windows. A few days ago I was looking at the water: birds ducking and swerving; waterlines advancing to the curl and fizz of waves. Out one window everything was grey: sea, horizon, sky. There was also a heaviness: it had settled in. The other window was streaked with light and rosy tints, even a pocket of blue sky. Metres from the bleakest seascape there were glimmers of sunshine.
This reminded me of perspective. When we’re in the middle of a hard or painful experience it’s difficult to visualise what might be around the corner, to believe you’ll feel anything joyful. We just can’t see the second window. I know this feeling well. And in the echo chamber of lockdown, pushed further into our fears and worries, it’s harder to see the big picture. Instead, everything is amplified. But no matter how bleak things seem, how much sorrow you hold in your heart, there will be joy again. The clouds will shift. And with them comes a chance to view things in new light.
Come to this exercise with something that’s bugging or troubling you. Come hurt or bruised: know that it’s designed to take care of you.
So what is the absolute best scenario? Perhaps you're spared more heartache; have the courage to finally pursue a dream; see your own worth. Thinking like this helps me realise the horrible thing I’ve scripted in my mind might not be a reality. I find space in it, even freedom.
A few years ago I went to a yoga retreat frazzled from my job. I coughed in class and decided I was ruining it for everyone, apologising to my teacher. He replied, ‘Don’t make big shit out of small stuff.’ The words hit me in the stomach: I did this often. Not because I’m overly dramatic, but because my brain was running on an unchecked worst-case-scenario loop. Perspective gives us the ability to let go of the smaller things and leaves us with energy to deal with what’s truly hard. This doesn’t mean disparaging your experiences or saying they aren’t tough. It does help you navigate what’s really important.
A very good friend of mine passed away last year. I think of her often and especially when I’m dealing with challenging things. I tell myself: I still get to be here, to feel the world deeply, and it’s a gift. Perhaps there’s something you can come back to, anchoring yourself when things feel like they’re spinning out of control. It could be a thought, a physical action, a phrase. Explore it in your writing and take what you need. Remember to smile, even laugh. Go on.
Thanks for being here, and being you.
All love,
Jo
WRITE TO THRIVE WORKSHOP
Join me for a sweet hour of self-care on Thursday 29th October, 7pm via Zoom.
The workshop guides you through a sequence of prompts designed, with much love and thought, to help you connect with your inner voice and leave you feeling lighter. It’s ideal if you find it hard to get going or to create space for yourself. No experience required, nothing needs to be shared.
£10/£7 concessions/low income, email hellojoannebell@gmail.com to book a spot. If you struggle to pay for the class do get in touch, I don’t want money to be a barrier.
YOUR IDEAS
It’s been eight weeks since I started this letter! I’d love to know if it’s working for you. Do you have a request for a topic? Or something else you’d like included? Hit reply and let me know.