Hibernate and Hideaway

As the temperature dropped this week, I noticed myself wanting to hibernate and hideaway. My body has responded to this reaction by tightening as I’ve not been breathing into and accepting that we are now moving towards the end of autumn and into winter. An indication of my resistance has been played out by my not wearing quite enough warm clothes, having cold hands, and losing heat through my head by not wearing a hat.

I notice as I write and connect to my resistance I am reminded of my response to a dear friend in Bhutan when she told me about some boys whom she met on the side of a mountain whilst out hiking. She learnt through engaging in conversation that they had all been orphaned and were living in a monastery on the mountains with very few creature comforts.

“To resist discomfort, loss, and pain is to lose out on the warmth and joy of what follows, and that is love which, in this instance, came into my life in the most unexpected and extraordinary way.”

Rachel Podger

Thanks to Tashi’s kindness and open-heartedness, these boys are much cosier now as she has equipped them with mattresses, warmer bedding, fleeces, and shoes. She said that when they saw their new belongings for the first time, their faces were a delight to witness, and she managed to send us a video of this as she wanted us to share in their joy. It is a video that I like to go back to when I need to be reminded of the smallest things that bring joy and warmth. It is an inner warmth from the heart and one that shines out through their souls. It encompasses their entire being, and as I connect to this, I feel my own being expand with joy as I remember this. Although they are on the other side of the world, I feel I am with them now, and their presence warms me.

I may not like the cold and will no doubt fall back into my habit of resistance and tightening, but I can remember the boys and their joy at now having a means of keeping warm. When I picture this scene and share it now, I hope their joy radiates out so that you can feel the warmth and joy that a simple gesture of kindness can provide.

I feel truly blessed to have met Tashi, and I know she feels the same about meeting the boys on the mountainside on a rainy afternoon. My writing brings these meetings to life and eases the pain in my heart that from time to time reopens as I connect to the absence of not having a child of my own. To resist discomfort, loss, and pain is to lose out on the warmth and joy of what follows, and that is love which, in this instance, came into my life in the most unexpected and extraordinary way.