Your midweek-break. (Always Forward. )
Five things that might just make your day, by Schalk Holloway.
Something that inspired me.
Sometimes when you click on the image above, it’ll take you to some goodies. 😉
Weekly musings.
Always Forward.
Things change. Stuff happens. Life goes on.
Elizabeth Scott
If ever there was an axiom to our existence, it would be that life goes on. And careful now, we’re not heading in the ‘just shut up and carry on’ direction. No, it’s about understanding that life is, uhm, alive. It is moving. On its way. Heading somewhere. Through the unstoppable and indomitable passing of time, life continues.
Imagine your life as a hiking buddy. One that’s possibly fitter than you are. As you make your way up this terrible never-ending mountain, he starts to pull ahead, outpacing you, leaving you alone and dejected and always having to catch up. (Yes, I know some of us are more comfortable bringing up the rear. Never stretch metaphors too far. They break. )
In this same manner, we can either be in pace with our lives; or we might be lagging behind.
It is also possible to run ahead and get lost but that’s another topic. :)
You see, what we don’t want in our lives, is to fall behind. Life doesn’t come with a roadmap, and none of our paths have been tread before. So when we get stuck for too long we can easily lose our way. Maybe even become lost.
And here’s the kicker: most people that are stuck, including me at times, is stuck because we are still living out our past.
We are still living from our past experiences and the feelings that they generated. (This, by the way, is the building blocks of memories. Memories = events + feelings). It is also interesting to note that these can be either positive and negative—it’s possible to get stuck in either positive and negative feelings. The question at hand is whether we are still living within the confines of certain singular, or repeating, events. It does stand to reason, however, that even though we might still get stuck, our general experience of life would be better if we were stuck within positive experiences.
As such, I would like to stand still, for a moment, at the negative experiences that so frequently tie us up. My suspicion here has long been that it’s not the experience itself, meaning the event/s, that is the culprit, but instead the feelings tied up with the experience. In my own life, when I get stuck, it is mostly because there are feelings that need resolving.
In speaking to one of my FoC, I was reminded how many of us struggle with an ever present melancholy. Melancholy itself isn’t all bad, it is usually born of pain or loss and it brings with it a special type of empathy and wisdom. However, too much melancholy for too long can eat away at us. I’ve seen it lead to depression, pessimism and cynicism. Obviously none of those are good for our general experience of life.
So what to do, what to do? Well, in essence, I’ve found that I need to sit with those feelings. To spend time with them in a thoughtful and conversant manner. To listen to what they want to tell me and so also to realise that they are not part of me. To feel them and then to let them pass through me and out of me.
On topic, Dzogchen Rinpoche Ponlop, says,
When you take time to feel your anger, everything naturally slows down. You turn your attention inward. Right away you notice there’s space to breathe, so you’re not overwhelmed. In this space, you discover a gap between yourself and the anger you’re feeling. That little bit of distance shows you that you’re separate from your emotions. You’re not just that mad agitation. You’re also the one who’s observing it. If you and your anger were exactly the same, how could you be watching it?
Emotional Rescue, Dzogchen Rinpoche Ponlop
One way to think of these feelings would be to imagine them as an insistent guest. A guest that won’t leave until you’ve taken the time to hear them out.
By the way, at times I’ve needed professional help with this.
That said though, it’s been significantly easier for me to reframe my past after I’ve dealt with any lingering feelings. Before dealing with the feelings, it’s as if I’m looking back to the events through them. As I’ve dealt with the feelings, and this can take time and multiple conversations, I’ve been able to look at my past through a different lens. And you know what the fun and beautiful part of this process has been?
Because I was no longer shackled by the unresolved feelings, I could actually decide for myself how I would like to frame my past. Subsequently, in stepped grace, forgiveness, learning, growth, empowering, and strength. Hope.
It is sad though, that many of us have been taught to ‘shut up and push through’, and many others to, ‘wallow and be the victim’. Neither of these are truth. Yes, at times we need to push through because life is moving whether we like it or not—but this only works for a period of time and then the cracks get too big. Yes, at times we need to slow down and sit with the pain until we’ve let it speak—but this is different than deciding to make our beds in it.
Are we still able to acknowledge the truths of our past, to work with them, or have we been taught to avoid them? The issue has never been taking the time to deal with our pasts. The issue has always been getting stuck in our pasts. Our past is just an explanation of how we came to be here, but it can never be an excuse for why have stopped moving.
In jail, while reflecting on his life and aspirations, the apostle Paul had the following to say:
But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, [14] I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 3:13b-14
We are called to let go of the things behind us, and to strain ourselves towards the things that are ahead. And this straining should not be taken as empty works or aggressive striving. Either of those would be contradictory to the yoke of Jesus which is both gentle and light. No, Paul is speaking about an active posture. An orientation to life. We are encouraged to actively reach for those good things, those fulfilling things, that are still ahead of us.
But in order to reach with both our hands, we need them empty. Empty of the past.
I’m deeply convinced that the great art to life is to stay in step with the Spirit. But the Spirit of God is moving at all times, blowing like the wind, and we can’t prejudge His movements. We might get glimpses, we might sense where He’s off to and what He’s up to, but we never have the whole picture. Instead, He calls us to relationship. To keep pace. To keep close. To not move too fast, but neither too slow . To take Him by the hands even when our eyes are closed and to simply trust that He’s leading us to green pastures, life-giving waters, a beautiful hope.
But then again, that means our hands need to empty.
Much love,
Schalk
A track I’ve got on repeat.
Poetry.
Chilli Plants
Cold and freezing wind
Killed eight of my chilli plants
There is nothing left
#haiko Three Lines, 5 7 5 Syllables
© Schalk Willem Holloway
An excerpt of creative fiction by me.
Flash Fiction: Down in a Dungeon
A hand presses firmly against the man’s stomach.
’Come with us,’ says the bouncer to his left.
What presence of mind he has left reminds him to check his six. Exit’s blocked off. Three then. Two in front and one behind.
A circumspect door appears from nowhere. Barred. This one also clad in black.
The conversation is drowned in deep trance. The words strangled by heavy bass fingers reaching through the floor.
Gatekeeper opens the door and the man is press-ganged through and down a well lit stairwell and the light assaults his eyes and even before he can take a moment to adjust he gets prodded between the blades of his shoulders. He reaches to the side for balance. Handrails the barefaced wall.
The moss is vivid, wet and snotty, and pops like life from the pale, cracked-up bricks. He brings his fingers to his nose to whiff at the verdant patch, but grime, grainy and oozlike, comes along.
It smells green like grass and black like oil.
The door shuts behind them and the music dies and the working shoes go click and clack on the flagstone steps.
Four then. Two in front. Two behind.
Then the stairwell opens to their right and the word dungeon pops into the man’s mind and the look of the third pair below reminds him that really, no one will hear you scream down here.
So, then. Here we are. Two young, two old, two with prints sticking out the sides of your shirts. Knuckles like bolts. Hands like shovels. Faces like potholes. Let’s share a barber! Cut, sir? Buzz.
Stop it!
’Are you dealing in the club?’ asks the older one in front.
‘No.’
'Then why are you in and out the whole time?'
The man thinks about this. It's true. He’s been to his car and back multiple times.
The dungeon shrinks and presses his lungs into his heart and it takes forever to formulate a response.'To be honest, I'm really high, and I don't think I know what I’m doing.'
The headman scans his team. The team keep staring at the man. Eyes dead. Wishing for something that'll make them feel alive again, if only for a couple of minutes.
'Have you got anything else on you?'
'I think I have one more pill.'
'Give it to us and then strip.'
The man digs the pill from a pocket, prays that his inventory is accurate, strips down to his lion’s mane, ponders whether he would have felt more confident if the pills hadn’t done their job so well, and passes his clothes to an outstretched hand.
Capitol offense odds state he’s going to die down here.
Naked. Shriveled. Soles, cold concrete beaten, like with flats of steel. Kneecaps, elbows, nipples, nose. Knuckles. Red, chaffed and frozen.
‘Hey!’ says the headman. The man’s clothes slap against his chest. ’If I was you, I would settle down a bit. Okay?'
'I understand,’ is the best the man can do.
