I started a new job this week. I’m working at Bomarsund’s Visitor Centre this summer.* Bomarsund is a fortress ruin here on Åland, built by the Russians in the early 1800s and bombed by the British and French in 1854 - before it was even completed.
History is fascinating— and probably why I became a History teacher! In this climate, with Russia just to the east and its incredibly long land border with Finland, working in a place so intricately connected to Russia is certainly thought-provoking. It highlights the nature of power, who holds it, and what people and countries do to maintain it or gain it.
This centre provides an overview of what was happening politically in the mid-1800s as well as a glimpse at what life was like for the everyday person at the time. It’s a beautiful building in a gorgeous natural setting with an interesting history resulting in the demilitarisation of this archipelago region.
And whilst the history is fascinating, as it often goes with new things, I’ve hit almost-overload. Whilst the job feels familiar (having worked for two years at the local maritime museum), it’s still a new environment with new people and systems, and long days. After two days on the job, I’ve been teaching the ropes to two new staff on consecutive days. It’s been intense.
By day four, I felt like crying. Not because anything is bad. It’s tiredness and newness, and perhaps a cold spring can make one cry too. I’m teary because I feel. My body feels sore because I spent two hours cleaning on Friday morning (part of my new job)—and perhaps the overload has landed in my body, adding to the soreness. My brain is tired because it’s overstimulated—all the ‘newness’. Maybe it’s also because I know my daughter is in Paris—so very close yet I probably won’t see her again until December. It might also be because I’ve had a very intense four weeks of travel and socialising and being in the moment and now life is hurtling at a pace where I want to shout ‘STOP!’
So that’s what will happen. For the next four days, I’ll become a hermit. I’m stopping. I’ll sit at home, braving the chill spring wind a few times a day to move my body and inhale fresh air and concentrating on feeling what I need to feel as I decrease my world for the sake of my nervous system.
This week I posted on Instagram, something I haven’t done for a while. The post, my past four weeks in photos, made me realise just how much I’ve been doing in this human-being body. I’ve been ‘doing’ a whole lot and have managed a little ‘being’ in between but perhaps not enough for this soul and body which has become very much used to a slower pace since covid happened.
How do we find balance in our lives? That’s a question many of us are on the lookout for answers to. How do we balance ‘doing’ with ‘being’ in a way that doesn’t completely deplete us, in ways that honour our soul, heart and mind? That soothes our nervous systems, bodies, and brains.
I haven’t always been good at this. I feel like I’m learning all the time, and the forced years of stillness during covid have meant that I feel it all more intensely than ever before. Maybe it’s an age thing too. Perhaps spending more time reflecting on the somatic experience, with a better connection to all the information my body communicates, helps too.
I’ve consciously avoided using the word ‘overwhelm’ here as it’s not exactly this I’ve been experiencing. After reading Brene Brown’s Atlas of the Heart, I’ve used overwhelm sparingly as it needs to be used in its true definition “completely overcome or over-powered by thought or feeling.” (Merriam-Webster).
Mindfulness teacher, Jon Kabat-Zinn, describes ‘overwhelm’ as the feeling that “our lives are somehow unfolding faster than the human nervous system and psyche are able to manage well.” So whilst I’m close to this feeling, it’s not quite this - life has been happening perhaps a little too fast for my liking but I’m conscious of it and have been able to manage the feelings by taking time, mindful minutes, to ensure I don’t hit a wall. I can manage the emotional and mental depletion and my non-doing time helps me manage this.
It’s no wonder I’m craving to slow down. Even fun things like travel and being with family and friends can be taxing on our bodies and souls. We’re human beings, not human-doings after all.
This is how we flourish. By listening to the signals our bodies send us. By recognising tiredness for what it is—a signal to slow down. By finding mindful minutes in the busyness of life. By focusing on the breath, on our senses, on the moment. One moment after another.
And did I say breathe?!
I hope you’re finding time to breathe too.
Stay well,
Lisa x
*I’ll write more in a later edition about life here, the challenges it presents and my feelings around why I felt I needed a summer job this year.
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I’m Reading
I recently finished the book Breath by James Nestor, a fascinating read for anyone interested in that life-giving, automatic thing we do - breathing. It’s not as automatic as you maybe think and by tapping into a more conscious way of breathing we can improve our well-being and lives.
If you have the Substack app and are keen to read some lovely writing and contemplations of life I highly recommend Katherine May’s newsletter. She wrote Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times, a book I’ve previously recommended.
I’m Listening
The episode of On Being with Dr Vivek Murthy was really lovely. To have a U.S. Surgeon General who is so focused on healing and love gives me hope for the world.
I’ve been driving a bit more as my new job is 30 minutes away and this Soul Mix has been fun.
I’m not sure how I stumbled upon your substack but I’m enjoying your reflections! I’m all the way over in rural Oregon, USA. We’ve had a chilly spring as well but today the baby birds are singing, the hens are pecking at new green grass and I’m relishing in ‘being’ in the simple return of warmth on my skin. 💛
Lisa, I loved reading about your being and doing, and it made me think of my own, being and doing. I will write a poem, a spiritual poem today on it because of your inspiration! Thank you! I have promised myself to write spiritual poems every day or almost as often, as it is so fulfilling to me to write poetry. Lisa Tomey-Zonnedfeld held a workshop one day, and that's how I got restarted. Your essay writing is so comprehensive and understandable, wonderfully flowing and on point. Thank you so much for your expressions here.