One of the most beautiful parts of my current life is the deep sense of awe and gratitude I frequently feel for the fact that my dream to move to California – a dream I held for so very, very long – finally came true.
Dreams are so often given a bad rap. We are told to “be sensible”, “realistic” or to “take our heads out of the skies”. But I believe our dreams and longings provide a deep guidance to who we really are, to what we really want and to where Life might be trying to guide us.
I have always considered ease to be the antonym, and indeed antidote, to stress.
As a single mum, raising two children alone, whilst I run a business and a house, I know all too well that my life is at times – to put it mildly! – stressful. “Monster Mum” is the term my children and I have coined for when I lose my usual equilibrium and start racing around the house, yelling directions about laundry and room tidying like a Boot-camp Sergeant Major.
“Chill Out, Mum” my kids will mutter under their breath, shutting their bedroom doors to escape my angry adrenalin. And I have always thought the antidote to this kind of manic stress must be just that – chilling out, breathing deep and finding inner calm amongst the tumultuous chaos.
I’ve gone to great lengths to bring more space and ease into my living. I’ve learnt the art of boundaries and how to say some guilt-free no’s. I have found ways to prioritise and drop what isn’t useful. I’ve even made some progress on things not always being perfect, and have learnt that cereal for dinner on occasion is as good as any option.
And all of this has no doubt helped to ease some of the demanding burdens that create a sense of stress.
But still, I notice that it is not always easy to find an ease amongst all the doing. And, I’ve continued to twist myself into knots trying to work out how to do less and source the kind of calm and space I’ve been thinking that I’m wanting.
But what if I’ve been looking in the wrong places? What if the antidote to stress – at least some of the time – is not necessarily ease after all?
This week I watched an amazing video about a man learning to ride a specially designed bike (CLICK TO WATCH: The Backwards Brain Bicycle). The bike looks like any usual bike except for the fact that when you turn the handlebars to the right the bike turns left, and when you turn the bars to the left, the bike turns right.
The video is about how long it took him to learn to ride this bike. And, forgive me for the spoiler, but the amazing part is that it took him eight months of daily practice until his brain finally got it and he could ride the bike.
I love this video because it shows so potently the truth that neuroscience has been increasingly telling us – that our brains only learn by practising and practising. We simply can’t expect to undo old habits and behaviours and ingrain new ones overnight. It is akin to thinking our bodies can radically change by one visit to the gym.
Most of us know we can’t change our behaviour without changing our beliefs. The man learning to ride the new bike couldn’t learn because his old way of thinking about bike riding was so ingrained. Equally, if I fundamentally believe that I am a failure and life is out to get me, it will be desperately hard for me to truly motivate myself into any sustained action that would support the flourishing of my life.
This last week for me has been a week of needing to make some choices. Choices and commitments that will impact the rest of my year. Do I say yes to this or no to that, choose this over that, commit to that but not this? And running under all those choices is an incredible demand “to get it right”. Yet, how do I know? What if I am wrong? What even is right?
Our head tends to be the part of us in charge of decision-making. Yet our minds only know black and white, either-or. Our heads crave certainty and control. They push us to get it right, choose carefully, weigh things up. Write down pros and cons, assess all the data, we are taught.
And maybe some of that can be useful. But for me, my mental faculties can only take it so far. My mind wants to tell me it knows best, but I increasingly suspect its wisdom may be limited.