I started writing this piece back in April. Somehow it has never left me and I’m grateful to be finding the time today, to not only finish it, but to also allow the depth of what’s taken place this year sink in.

The generosity I have experienced this year has been unlike anything I have ever experienced before. I’m curious about it. Am I more open to the generosity of others?

Just over two years ago I made a huge change in my life, I made the decision to leave the corporate world to do the work that calls my heart and my soul. It took time to leave, it took a long time and even though there were times when I made that mean something, I know that time is OK. We can take all the time that we need. That’s not the reason these words have found there way to this page though..

I have been reflecting on, and contemplating, “our narrow world view” - how this impacts our way of being, and how automatic and unconscious it is. How narrow our world view can be, how narrow the stories we tell ourselves, how narrow our thoughts and our feelings.

Earlier last week I felt the familiar tapping of grief at my door. Somehow I feel it in my body before my mind can logically make sense of what it is. I was walking in my garden and my body felt crunchy, that’s the only word I can find to describe it. As if I’d put on tight-fitting clothes that were too small for me. It had a crunchy quality to it, I could feel it running down my back.

We have become so isolated, we put “self” at the centre and forget about how entangled we could be with those we live, with those we love, with mother nature and the world around us. In fact entanglement, co-dependency have become the enemy, but I wonder what we have lost in that.

I couldn't find the words today, I wanted to speak but words evaded me. The grief and rage I felt in my body and my being too big for small words. Sometimes there aren't the words, sometimes it's difficult to say or portray what you're feeling or what you're witnessing.

I am sitting deeply with the grief of the world right now.

Recently I’ve been exploring the landscape of not enough. The not enoughness I feel in my bones, a feeling that gnaws and is persistent in its aggressions. Something that is with me almost every moment of every day, some days louder than others, but nevertheless a constant companion.

As I’ve been exploring this it’s brought about an unexpected grief, and this grief feels deep, it’s taken me. It's a grief I haven’t explored in this way before - the grief of unbelonging.

It’s so very easy to do the things we’ve always done. I constantly catch myself in the familiar - feeling a familiar way, doing something familiar, reacting in a familiar way. The habit of me, when it’s so automatic, sometimes visceral, it feels like it just happens, that I have no say.