Dusty minds and deep dives.


“Hands up whoever so thinks his ice cream is rrreeeeally delicious!”

I’m at the seaside enjoying the fresh air and the happy faces around me, including these 5 kids on the bench, all with raised hands.

It’s a perfect sunny autumn day and I’m all by myself.
I love spending time on my own, away from all modern distractions.
Mr Macbook stayed at home and my to-do list is completely blank.
On weekends like this my mind tends to be dusty in the beginning, with thoughts about past and future entertaining me. But after a while the dust settles down and a soothing light shines through. (that deeper peace that’s within everyone of us underneath our changing thoughts and changing sensations)

 

My past few months were quite the opposite of stillness. I had a lot of ideas, but was in desperate need of space.
There was too much movement and input in my life. I don’t know about you, but I can’t sing that song of modern society where there’s radio, social media, email, news updates, podcasts and real life social interactions one after the other.
Or I could, and I did these past months. But it prevented me from properly listening to my inner voice and staying close to my true self.

 

Just like words on paper need white space to make sense, I needed room to be and see more clearly.

 

Take my move to Brussels in July for example. After first cat sitting there for two months, I had difficulties in finding my own appartement. On top of that I still had to be two nights a week in Antwerp for improvisation theater. It felt like I was just forcing things by moving away from Antwerp at that moment.
I decided to stay.

The move didn’t come from my stillness.

I guess that’s my biggest lesson.

 

I
need
white space
to move
from my center.

 
As I’m strolling further along the Belgian coastline, my breath is slow and deep.
A greater trust takes over: everything is unfolding as it should.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the dust, right?

Sometimes that dust can settle down quickly.
Other times it takes a bit longer.
But rather than moving on the surface, I want to dive deep.
It’s by daring to really stand still and facing the dust, you get to know yourself better and grow through it.
Standing still is actually allowing vulnerability. And most of the dust is fear.
I don’t know if I wanted to run away from things by moving. I always say I don’t, but maybe I do. And maybe now’s the time to be seen in all my vulnerability and to deepen my connections.

 

Right here, right now.

 

I lay myself down in the sand, turn my avatar off and let my body be carried by the earth.
Warmed by the autumn sun, I hear the waves of the sea.

Coming and going.

Life is beautiful.
(Don’t be tricked by a dusty mind.)

Sophie Snoeckx
About me

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