Issue #44 Trying to feel a feeling but failing

On Halloween, a lack of magic and the struggle to connect.

A strange week this week. We have mostly been dealing with the logistical fallout from the fact that our car finally gave up the ghost. We have had little time for adventures, but have been thankful for time to meet up with friends.

It has been Halloween - a yearly ritual for us which we look forward to as much as Christmas, more so, perhaps. Yet, this year I have struggled to tap in to the dark sense of magic that we usually associate with this time of year. I am trying to feel a feeling but failing. The clocks have changed, the nights are long and we are driven indoors by wind and rain, the stove is ticking in the evenings as wood crackles and flames flicker on the grate. I want to feel creative and wholesome, yet I feel restless and my spine feels itchy.

It is annoying when the trivialities of life interfere with those things that have meaning, isn’t it? I’m struck by how much of our lives we have to dedicate to this sort of thing, even if we have made a conscious effort to keep them at bay. Our current model of society has constructed many devious tricks to keep us from thinking deeply, living lives with purpose and intention. So much of that which fills our days seems unnecessary, trivial in the grand scheme of things - that is to say our one wild, precious chance at existence.

When in Nature, I find my best chance at connecting to something bigger. Yet even here sometimes it can be difficult to be fully present, to forget all the little bits of information and problem thoughts that buzz around my head, like midges on a summer’s evening. Despite my best efforts, and a deep relationship with Nature, I sometimes find it hard to connect. Just like Halloween, I am trying to feel a feeling, but failing.

I know this to be true, because I know what it’s like when that connection finally clicks; suddenly, perhaps just briefly, everything else melts away and it is just me and the universe. At that moment, I am intensely aware of my surroundings, yet also I pay them no mind. I am part of the landscape, like the tree, the rock or the river and I see the whole of Nature not through the analytical human lens but as a wild creature. I am free of any desire or distraction or of any notion of self, I am alive and simply being and that is enough.

It is impossible to know what will trigger these moments of connection; sometimes it is the wind rustling leaves on trees, sometimes the trickle of water over rocks, or the feeling of walking through the woods and imagining the mycelium running beneath my feet, sensing my presence. What I can be sure of however, is that I cannot summon these moments on demand. They come only when they are ready - or perhaps when I am ready to receive them. Nature can be like that, difficult sometimes, yet laden with unexpected gifts.

Although these moments of clarity are unpredictable, and I can’t force them into being, I can choose to give myself a higher chance of finding them. Spending as much time out in Nature as possible, reducing the clutter synonymous with modern life, keeping my eyes and mind open to wonder and awe and trying not to give too much weight to those trappings of society that keep us insulated from the beauty of the world around us.

Funnily enough, I started this week’s issue with the intention of writing that there would be no digest this week and then this thing wrote itself.

How was your Halloween/Samhain? Did you feel the magic? We’d love to hear about your experiences.

With warmest wishes.

Andrew, Emma and Benji

x