Difficult conversations (aka humbled by the human experience).
The art of living a question and conversing with birds.
The wonder of writing and publishing under the full moon is that there are rich earthly offerings illuminated for me to alchemise into words.
The less wondrous side, is that the intensity of the physical and emotional tides can quite literally keep me up at night. I've been awake since 4am, and it reminds me of a poem from my archives:
Illumination
Last night I woke at 4am
the full moon illuminating much more than I was prepared to see.
I tossed and turned for hours while she had her way with me.
With gentle and unwavering force she shone light on my forgotten needs –
my need for love, my need for time, my need for softness and internal peace.
I lay, grateful for these messages having travelled lightyears to reach me.
I lay, whispering love letters to my deepest self and drifted gently back to sleep.
These past few weeks have been *full* of difficult conversations – in my work, community and friends. The nervous system activation combined with lot to process is keeping me up at night, and while I'd certainly rather be blissfully asleep, I am also humbled to be awake for this human experience. There is great beauty and bravery in the way these conversations have been unfolding. I can thank years of mentorship, meditation and bodywork for my capacity to hold and let go as needed; my internal riverbanks are strong, enabling the water to flow as it needs.
A big thing I am learning about the art of tender-and-tension-filled communication, is that there is no foolproof way to get it "right" (trust a recovering perfectionist to think they there might be such thing). There are good intentions, therapeutic frameworks, social norms, carefully thought-out agendas, and mutually agreed outcomes – but ultimately humans are diverse and complex.
The yearning to feel seen and heard is strong within all of us. And this is particularly present in the heat of disharmony or difference. I know the feeling of anxiously waiting for someone to finish talking so I can say what I need to say; inadvertently not listening to them in the pursuit of wanting to be listened to. I know feelings of anger and frustration; believing I have been rejected or wronged whilst forgetting that everyone is doing their best. I know tears of sadness; past parts of me that have been hurt, now presenting themselves for witness or comfort.
Being in conversation with these parts of myself internally, is difficult enough. Revealing them whilst in conversation with others, is to be humbled by the human experience.
So I've been asking myself:
What is the mature and adult response to difference, difficulty and tension?
My friend Anna has taught me the art of living a question, which is the the kinkiest combination of practical and poetic I've heard of in a while.
This is me living (writing) the question.
And I am not alone in this pursuit. My friend, artist and fellow poet Jabba has Conversations with Birds. So I asked him what the birds have to say about this topic. He told me about the Rainbow Lorikeet, pictured here in his deck of story cards. The conversation is written below.
Jabba says,
When I took this photo, there was a near deafening chorus of squawking lorikeets. A real raucous squawk-us. And for me, finding my squawk is exactly what the Rainbow Lorikeet resembles.
The Rainbow Lorikeet reminds me of two things:
Firstly, to squawk with awareness, remembering that everyone is on a different timeline in terms of knowledge, understanding and spiritual growth. We each have a perspective and point of view that is unique to the world. If we are all willing to offer our own colourful diversity in this way, and also remain willing to change and adapt after hearing other perspectives, this can help us move towards harmony together.
Secondly, to squawk with compassion. Looking deeper to find the fear, the ego, or the conditioning that might cause someone to behave in a way we don't agree with or understand. Everyone slips up sometimes, and people don't react well to a personal attack or judgement. Squawk to understand, squawk to educate. Don't squawk to shame, or cancel.
Choosing compassion, choosing love, will allow others to grow. And by the sum of all parts, it will allow humanity to grow.
The Lorikeet reminds us that by giving love to all of humanity, we allow our rainbow colours shine their brightest.
Of course choosing compassion is a lifelong conversation in itself. I had dinner with a Buddhist monk last week, and he - as Buddhists do - spoke a lot about compassion. He shared how compassion can be found in different types and styles that can be applied to different situations. The complexity continues. The humbling continues.
And as I continue to live this question, I am now learning that I can also find compassion within the process of finding compassion.
With love until next month,
Lucy xx
Hello to my new subscribers! Thanks for joining this journey of poetry, business-for-good and life reflections. I publish this Substack on the minute of the full moon each month. If you’d like to connect further, you can visit my website or Instagram, or reach out at hello@lucyrichards.com.au.
Squark....lovely Luce thank you. I llove Jabba’s cards and also like the idea of having compassion for the times when one is struggling to find it.
Such a lovely piece.