(All images taken on this summer’s memorable trip to Iceland)
Earlier this year, my husband Roy and I took a mindfulness course through the Oxford Mindfulness Centre, a truly mind-expanding experience (a wonderful thing in mid-life, when we can ossify in our thoughts and habits unless we make a conscious effort to change).
The teacher read this poem to us, and it felt like an electric shock.
An Autobiography in Five Chapters (by Portia Nelson)
I
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost…
I am hopeless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.
II
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I’m in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
III
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in… it’s a habit
My eyes are open; I know where I am;
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
IV
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
V
I walk down another street.
* * *
I thought about mistakes I’ve made, unhelpful habit-patterns, holes I have fallen into–inadvertently, the first time, and then again, without analysing or accepting culpability for my actions, and then repeatedly, out of bad habit.
But there other options exist… I could side-step the hole.
Or go down a different street.
* * *
So, Roy and I began thinking about holes we tumble into, and how to circumvent them. For instance, we left on a 15 day trip to Iceland just after the Meditation course. I love travel, but usually pack an hour or so before we leave. Which means running through the house to run laundry, gather up books, clothes, toiletries and electronics; it’s stressful, and I am frequently still packing when the house-sitters come, and I feel sad that I was not able to tidy up for them as well and hospitably as I would have liked, and I invariably discover I need some toiletries or better walking shoes or eye-masks, but there’s no time to get them.
Well, this time, I started packing a full 10 days in advance, a pomodoro a time. We were renting a camper van, which meant taking more gear, and I decided to buy good hiking layers for Iceland. (We wore 4 or 5 layers in July and August, can you imagine?–because we hiked up to glaciers, took boat trips in glacial lagoons, and it was chilly!) I also bought a duplicate of almost everything I take in my suitcase or hand luggage when I travel, so that next time packing will be super-easy, with a pre-packed suitcase. (In fact, we are going to Porto soon to celebrate our thirtieth wedding anniversary, and the suitcase is already packed!!) Anyway, I was packed before the house-sitters came, and even got to clean and declutter.
Packing was always a hated and dread task– and I am so happy I have found a non-time-consuming way to do it: buy a duplicate of everything I normally take , and always keep a suitcase packed…
It takes analysis to figure out holes, and how to avoid them. For instance, we booked our trip to Iceland after reading in our guidebooks that while 5-7 days on the Ring Road that circles the country is the minimum, fourteen days are even better. So, we booked fourteen days! We hiked up volcanoes, took boat trips on glacial lagoons among icebergs, walked on iceberg-littered beaches, and among geysers, saw basalt columns, puffins and seals; soaked in hot pools surrounded by mountains; climbed up to more waterfalls than I’ve ever seen in a fortnight, but realised we could easily have seen our personal wish-list in fewer days, if we had read the guidebook, and made a list. (Things like a steep 45 minute walk up a barren Mordor-like landscape to see a volcano’s crater, or climbing behind slippery rocks to get behind a waterfall were not for me, when there were easy-to-access volcanoes and waterfalls). And Iceland is an expensive country to spend an unnecessary day in. So, though I always read the guidebook on the plane out, and love the serendipity of unplanned travel, I decided I am going to plan an itinerary, ideally before I have even bought the tickets.
I love the poem’s premise: we can avoid habitual mistakes by analysing the holes we can fall into, and, then, take a different road. Another hole I have fallen into is a form of ghosting. Because I dislike difficult, tense, emotional conversations, I can sever a relationship with, say, a spiritual director, or church, or small group, or someone who was working for us with an email or by simply stopping showing up. So, once warm relationships go into limbo, and this is annoying and unsatisfying for the ones ghosted, and leaves me feeling guilty, and without the benefits of maturity that confronting difficult things gives us. I have had to end two relationships this year… one was a warm professional relationship which had definitely come to its natural end. I tried to sever it by email, but he really wanted a face-to -face, so we had it, and it was a good meeting, and provided a sad but satisfying closure to the relationship which had served us well, but now clearly needed to end. Similarly, I left an activity I was involved in with a frank and mature discussion with the leader, which strengthened our relationship, though leaving was the right thing. And each time we end things well we gain courage and kindness for the next time, which is of great importance, because after all the ending defines the book… Scarlett re-marries Rhett, or doesn’t; Jon Snow occupies the Iron Throne, or doesn’t… Endings define the story!
Other holes I’m avoiding. Because we are self-employed, and our work is portable, my husband Roy and I travel a lot. We are suckers for those super-cheap airfare and hotel deals to Europe, and had 10 short breaks in 2018. And six so far this year, including Cordoba, Berlin, Krakow, Iceland, and New York, for my niece Kristina’s wedding, and soon, God willing, Porto. However, sadly, it can take a while after travel to recover my good habits and work routines. Also, I gain weight most times I travel (eating out for every meal can do that to you!) which which can take time to lose. So I am now trying to craft a life in which I travel slightly less frequently for energy, freshness, joy and excitement it gives me, but instead pace myself by taking a stimulating break each week. We went to a Pompeii exhibition at the Ashmolean last week, and recently to a story-telling session of The Kalevala with my book group, and a classic movie night at a friend’s house—Pasolini’s Oedipus!! (Alternatively, I could keep travelling, an activity I adore, and simply became more active to walk off the delicious holiday meals. But some change is necessary.)
Life’s more fun, when we keep revising it.
