What’s great…?
Last time I was pondering where I am now, a reasonable question to be asking at the turn of the year. The natural follow-up to that one – especially as the new year starts and wanting to keep the positive frame of mind for as long as we can, before the slings and arrows start to assail us again – is what's great about it? What is wonderful about where I am right now?
There's a standard tongue-in-cheek response when asking about to how best to get somewhere, which says: don't start from here. The thing is: here is where we are. We have to start from here. So given that premise, what is great about 'here' being the place to start from?
We're all very quick to complain about what is wrong in our life, but how often do we stop and devote serious time to contemplation of what is absolutely blooming brilliant about it?
If we're being very good at our spiritual practice, we might remember most days to note a few things that we are grateful for that day. That's a start and a beautiful thing to do, either starting or ending each day noting what was (or is) good, finding something to counterbalance our stresses and struggles.
But when we talk about "what's great…" it's about going a bit further. It's not just about gratitude, although that undoubtedly plays into the mix. It's also about celebration. It's about recognising our own achievements and progress, as well as the things that are simple blessings or gifts from others. It's about spotting the opportunities that we can choose to take or decide to ignore. It's about realising why we should be grateful for things, and how we might be able to turn them into things to be even more grateful for.
So I would say, before asking this question, put it in context. By way of example, when I start a gratitude list, I always start with things like 'four walls and a roof', 'I don't live in a war zone', 'clean running water'… Trust me: I don't take any of those things for granted. I do know that it is a lot more than many other people start with, even in this country.
The context for the 'what is great…' question, however, is more personal. The interpretation of the question is "what about my life right now is great in terms of helping me move from where I am to where I want to go?" One very precise example to illustrate this point:
- I'm grateful for "four walls and a roof" – security, safety, warmth, shelter.
- What's great about it – a home that I have project-managed to my own vision of somewhere I really want to live, rooms that I look around and find memories and hopes, a place I look forward to coming back to, a physical reminder of my ability to get stuff done and to let stuff go and to mix and match my conflicting aesthetics into something which, I think, works.
Don't be ashamed of feeling a little pride in what you have achieved. If we can't be at least a little proud of our achievements, why bother? Just don't let pride define you. Satisfaction in having done a good job, is a good thing…but there's always the next job. How does the last lead into the next…?
The final thing to remember when answering this question is that the answer is completely non-judgemental. It is a present tense question. It looks at my present circumstance in isolation from whatever might have brought me to it. I can lament the events that brought me to this pass, but still set them aside in considering the road ahead.
In the darkest of winters there are flowers; there are lights in the deepest tunnels. We can choose to focus on how we got here, or we can look at where we go from here. The "what's great" question pre-supposes that we'd rather do the latter.
So! What is great about my life right now?
I have this amazing opportunity to become whoever I want to be. No-one can dictate my life from here on. I am unbelievably free, secure, and accountable only to myself and my own values, other than in those situations where I choose to become accountable to others. I will honour the commitments I make, but I get to choose those commitments.
For the first time, I have a home that matches my vision. I started from scratch. And not from scratch. I started from the remnants of my life, of Clive’s, of Joyce’s and Richard’s, and I got to play around with how they all fit together. In doing it, I realised that I was also bringing in my own heritage: my Dad's carpentry, Mam's embroidery, family photos, pieces of jewellery which if I won't wear I may find ways of displaying, enjoying otherwise. A decanter that once held sherry now holds water – a prettier thing on my desk than a plastic bottle.
What's great is that I look around my home, room by room, and I take a deep pleasure in it. I love what I have done with the place, I love that my contractors did what they said they would, but I also love the memories that lurk behind the changes. What's great is that it is absolutely my own, but equally that Clive could walk back in and see the echoes of what he left here, see strong spaces that are unchanged, see that I didn't need to rip the heart out of it.
What's great is that Joyce would be vindicated in leaving it to her son, and that Richard (whose misgivings came to pass) can now rest easy that it is back in more caring hands.
I have a garden that looked amazing for a few weeks, and then settled into the reminder that if I want a garden, I have to work at it. It is a place to be, and a place to work, and a place to learn. I love that I have no idea how this will play out. What's great is that the garden was going to be 'this year's project' but the framework is already there, the structure is in place. I'll find out over the next few months how much of the original design will survive and re-grow…and I'll figure out how to look after it, how to best neglect it, I'll find the balance. What's great is that I have the time to do this.
What's great is that I don't have the faintest idea what I'm doing.
I am living in a new neighbourhood – new to me that is, but in many senses also consistently renewing, because a chunk of it is student-based. What's great about it is the nearness of the woods as a place to walk. What's great about it is my corner shop: a multi-cultural, multi-ethnic, multi-sourced emporium of food stuffs which I have still not fully explored, because I rarely get beyond their fabulous fruit & veg stall. They sell things I want to buy just to find out what they taste like. What's great about living here is that I'm further away from the supermarkets, so buying local makes even more sense.
What's great about living here is that I have no excuse not to swim two or three times a week.
Professionally, I am working. For a long time one of the things that was good about my life was that I had a job. What's great about my life now is that I don't.
I have work. I have clients who value my knowledge and my skills and my get-it-done-ability. I am also working on my own speculative projects. I enjoy the work that I do, because I choose it, project by project. I am under no illusions about what a fabulous luxury that is…but equally, I can do this because of other choices I have made. I have chosen to prioritise time over money. I have chosen to prioritise experiences over possessions.
What is great about it is that having figured out my priorities, the decision making is easy and the work is an absolute pleasure.
And I have a reason to work. I have things I want to do and reasons to want to do them that feed into the work and out of it. I have travel plans, for the first time in years I have big trips planned and small ones, adventures all.
The adversity of the last few years has rekindled and strengthened some bonds with family and friends. It has shown just how weak some others were. What's great about that is I know where love lies. I know I am still loved, and that I still love. What's great about the passing of some relationships is the space it creates for others. I truly believe that we cannot step into someone's life unless there is a space for us to step into. What's great is that I can see where the spaces are – and are not – in my own life. I can choose who to let in.
What's really great about my life – is the knowledge that I can stay wild, stay free, and still connect.
Wild and free has nothing to do with isolation. Alone and loneliness are very, very, very distant cousins. Never mistake them for the same thing.
What's really great is that I wouldn't swap my life, for anyone else's. Now that's not a bad place to start planning the next adventure.
