Lessons from 2018
It's still early enough in the New Year, that reflections from 2018 are useful. They're useful in informing our patterns of behaviour and feelings so that we can predict (as best as is possible) how we might respond to future events of 2019. I've already used this reflective mood to help navigate myself through a challenging few weeks.
Three days ago my younger sister had undergone a craniotomy (brain surgery) to remove a large brain tumour from the base of her skull. She's recovering marvellously well and I think this due to the immense skill of the surgeons, nurses, anaesthetists and countless other professionals looking after her. However, a lot of her recovery has and will come from the learning that she and all who love her had to experience when the tumour was first diagnosed. Her first surgery came only four days after her diagnosis and at the time, we were still in the blur of shock and disorientation that such news would impart. As such we reacted with fear, shock, grief and after the initial surgery, a bizarre life-affirming euphoria that almost made me feel sick at times. There was no time for a slow, measured response. Reactions were immediate and visceral and immensely raw.
In the lead up to her recent surgery we were able to prepare ourselves, to have worked out what stress-reduction strategies we could pull in to help us to cope. We individually and collectively worked through this time by being kind to ourselves and to each other; by giving ourselves space to think, to be scared, to hope and to breathe. We soothed each other with the balm of familial and platonic love, with good food and with the creation of happy memories and laughter. In short, we celebrated our lives and the bonds of connection to another human being, so that when the crucial time came we were strong and our inner buckets were full of love. It was that love, the love that is endlessly deep and gentle despite being overwhelming at times, that is the chief lesson I've learnt from 2018. I wish I could express in words what that love actually feels like. I might try for the rest of my life and never do it justice. It is a love that when experienced either by giving, receiving or both, is life-preserving. It is boundless and everywhere and we can share it with a smile, a kind word or at times a hug. I'll be trying to dish out plenty of it in 2019.
Here's to a wonderful year full of love, kindness and joy!
PS - the photo is of a cafe I used to visit in Camberwell with my best friend from university years. I'd like to go back for a visit with him some time.
In the lead up to her recent surgery we were able to prepare ourselves, to have worked out what stress-reduction strategies we could pull in to help us to cope. We individually and collectively worked through this time by being kind to ourselves and to each other; by giving ourselves space to think, to be scared, to hope and to breathe. We soothed each other with the balm of familial and platonic love, with good food and with the creation of happy memories and laughter. In short, we celebrated our lives and the bonds of connection to another human being, so that when the crucial time came we were strong and our inner buckets were full of love. It was that love, the love that is endlessly deep and gentle despite being overwhelming at times, that is the chief lesson I've learnt from 2018. I wish I could express in words what that love actually feels like. I might try for the rest of my life and never do it justice. It is a love that when experienced either by giving, receiving or both, is life-preserving. It is boundless and everywhere and we can share it with a smile, a kind word or at times a hug. I'll be trying to dish out plenty of it in 2019.
Here's to a wonderful year full of love, kindness and joy!
PS - the photo is of a cafe I used to visit in Camberwell with my best friend from university years. I'd like to go back for a visit with him some time.
Comments
Post a Comment