We are often told by our mentors that we should “get comfortable being uncomfortable”. This course often has us operating outside our comfort zones. I was also conscious of not treating my Scab like an entry in my journal. It’s a chill Sunday, somehow writing about my most intense musings does not feel appropriate.

One other factor I have been considering is from something Marc shared in Town Hall this week. He passed on an old Eastern mindfulness technique. That if we look to the past, that is where depression lies and if we look to the future, there we find anxiety but if we focus on the moment, we can avoid being drawn into those two states. Of course, there have been times when I have been struggling to scamp an idea or knee-deep in research and have no concrete insight and I think, “I wish I’d done this sooner in life”. Or, usually just after the melancholy, I feel a tightness in my chest as I’m prematurely overreacting to the as yet undisclosed terrors of term two. 

But this weekend I had a firm grip on my mental levers. I trusted the process and I made plans, as recommended we all do, to take in culture, people and experiences. My ex-girlfriend who I’m still friends with was visiting London. So, on Saturday night I found myself at a very genteel suburban soirée. It was a lovely gathering of charming people, and in an earlier stage in life I would certainly have felt outside my comfort zone.  But as I chatted over homemade punch, I got comfortable and managed to connect with an up-and-coming playwright who pointed me in the direction of some local writing workshops. And I even met an academic with a PhD in bees, or apiculture as they say in university. 

So, I certainly felt the hand of the universe at play. I felt it bring synergy to what I’ve been experiencing this week. Words are my comfort zone, visuals, graphics and craft, so far are not. To help stay conscious of the moment and be mindful I looked to the example of the bee, in both my comfort and discomfort. It reminded me that when I am fully in the moment in this hive, instead of thinking, I observe. My observations become memories and I will store those memories, like a bee stores honey.


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