I recently met a dear man, who lives in my village, at a poetry reading. I was describing to him whereabouts in the village my house was when he slapped his thigh and said, "Oh you live near the grand old oak tree!" Stunned, I felt he hadn't been listening to my location descriptions at all; the only tree near my house was a nondescript one in the middle of a patch of grass. But he was adamant, "Yes, the great old oak - so magnificent - do you know that was planted in honour of the coronation of King --'s coronation and stands on what was once our village green? So magnificent."
Oh.
When I drove home that night, I took a moment to walk around this tree standing humbly on its patch of grass. He was right. I'd never really noticed how enormous or perfectly sculpted it was; how the branches fanned strongly out in a near perfect arc. Standing with the tree between me and my house, I had a little quiet wow moment. It was quite quite magnificent.
I have been taught for years that we should always try and look at things from all angles to really appreciate and understand them and I genuinely thought I was doing this well until recently. As well as my tree moment, I have been reading Elizabeth Gilbert's achingly great book, "Big Magic". She writes about the creative life and changing perceptions of genius - and she stopped my tea halfway to my mouth when she wrote about creative angst. She challenges the notion that creating (be it art, music, writing, whatever) is a torturous, pain-filled, soul-crushing experience.
Now I took issue with this. I have always secretly aspired to be a tortured soul - a writer pained by the sheer darkness of humanity. I thought if you frowned and ached and spent days crying by the sea, it just meant you were doing it right, the genuine article. But Ms Gilbert's words slapped my furrowed brow hard. Working in a factory is difficult she says, being a single mum to three kids is difficult. Writing is not difficult. It's a luxury, she says. Clearly I had some thinking to do about this. That said, I truly am so grateful for the nudge to question a completely received idea.
Some approaches to life are harder to challenge though. We fear anarchy or crumbling identity if we let go of them and we generally label them 'common sense' to ensure we're allowed to keep doing them. I have always been an old school disciplinarian. I am naturally zero tolerance of bad behaviour in my classroom and my home and, to date, this has served me well. Until Son number 2.
The naughty step is met with a grin, a telling off with a little cheeky dance and being sent to his room is seen as a great opportunity to build book towers - yippee! Thankfully a colleague recommended 'No Drama Discipline' by Dan Siegel and Tina Payne Bryson to me. Now this book would have had me eye rolling all the way to the bin had I not been desperate. It banishes the naughty step, or any form of punishment/isolation. It promotes connection; hug your toddler through their tantrum and teach them how to regulate this emotion storm. Essentially Attachment Parenting.
This goes against every deep grain in me but gosh darnit, it's only working! Early days obviously and nothing is foolproof but what a revelation - that another of my well polished approaches/opinions has been loosened to allow something new in. And it might just work. I'm starting to wonder which other of my approaches/opinions need a spring clean.
Essentially, I think I am learning to evolve a little - something we all need to do. Darwin famously said, "It is not the strongest of the species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the ones most responsive to change." So, which tree do you need to go and look at from the other side?
