Bridget McNulty

Sacred Sloth.

// January 19th, 2009 // No Comments » // Life (and the living of it), Time

I’ve come up with a new concept that I think could be quite powerful (and that just so happens to be rather delicious!)
I call it Sacred Sloth.

What is it? Well, every so often (I’d say every second week, but I’m still experimenting with the finer details), you give yourself a day off for Sacred Sloth. What that means is that you have full permission to sleep late, stay in bed reading till noon, wear your pyjamas all day if you like, lie in your hammock or on your couch, read voraciously, draw, eat delicious food, watch inspiring TV (none of that brain-rotting stuff!) and generally do whatever it is you feel like, in slow motion.

I had one of these days yesterday, and I have to say it’s a real tonic. It feels like I went on a mini-holiday. I highly recommend it. And because it’s only one day, there’s no need to feel guilty about wasting time. In fact, it’s the opposite of a waste of time, because a day of Sacred Sloth counteracts the effects of stress, and ensures you don’t burn out from working too hard.

Give it a go! You deserve it.

Are you ready for a challenge?

// November 20th, 2008 // No Comments » // Decisions, Life (and the living of it), Love, Philosophy

This idea has been thrown at me from three different sources in the last week or so, so I know it’s something I have to come to grips with (I’m not completely blind to the ways of the Universe!)

That said, I wouldn’t mind getting some input on it. Are you ready for a challenge?

Apparently, anything that irritates you in another person is a part of yourself that you’re either denying, or that you’re exhibiting in another area of your life. The people who frustrate and annoy you the most are the mirrors that show you what it is you’re not dealing with in your life.

Now, if you’re like me, this theory will immediately irritate you! But I must admit, once I started thinking about it, it started to make sense… Start with something easy – some mild irritation. Someone who is lazy or selfish or who you don’t think is fulfilling their potential, say. Now, can you see that trait in yourself in any area of your life? It could be in your romantic life, your friendships, your family, your work, your spiritual or your mental life – anywhere in any way. It’s a pretty powerful exercise, especially when it’s someone who you have to interact with every day. Seeing the humanity in someone who you think is a bit of a demon opens the doorway to loving and forgiving them, which translates into a whole heap less stress in your interactions with that person…

Sometimes, though, especially when it’s a deep-seated dislike or irritation, I think it can come from a part of ourselves that we suppress. I was chatting to a friend about this the other day, and she said she gets so annoyed with her colleague at work because he never listens to anyone else’s opinions – he just bulldozes any conversation until it goes his way. The reason this bothered her so much was because her mom used to do the same thing, and so my friend had suppressed her desire to be pig-headed (even a little bit, which can be quite useful at times, especially in business). She’d gone to the other extreme. Recognising that her reaction to this colleague was because of an unresolved reaction to her mom allowed her to neutralise it and let it go… Now she still thinks the colleague is an idiot, but she doesn’t get that gut emotional reaction to it.

Interesting stuff, hey? Why not give it a try? I’m going to….

Serendipitous inspiration…

// November 12th, 2008 // 1 Comment » // Inspiration, Life (and the living of it), Philosophy, Writing

So I was looking through an old notebook the other day, when this photocopied page fell out. No title, no author, no page number, even, just a page of writing that happens to be deeply inspiring… It’s pretty long, so make yourself a cup of tea and settle in for a read. And let me know if you have any idea who the author is (please)!

“… We shun and reject anything unpleasant. But in fleeing from these experiences, instead of accepting them as a part of our life, we have unconsciously rejected life. We bleed and suffer needlessly over the most inconsequential details. We fail to realise, as a friend of mine likes to say, that ‘Life is a package deal.’ You don’t get to pick and choose. You don’t get to say I like this but I don’t like that. It’s a package. Take it or leave it. Even failure, sickness and misfortune play their part in the grand scheme of a life unfolding.

Accepting life in its entirety and taking time to appreciate the diversity and richness of it opens our eyes to many things we’ve taken for granted. The present moment, for example, is always alive and filled with infinite treasures. It contains far more than we are capable of receiving. See the clouds, the trees, the birds, children playing, the colours all around. The flower blooms, the insect hums, the ant crawls, night follows day – see the moon and stars. There is more beauty and joy in each day than we can ever fully appreciate.

Yet we continue to live our lives focused on future destinations – when the mortgage is paid; when my obligations are fulfilled; when I’m rich; when I meet that special someone; when things are different. Yes, all that will be fine, but what about today? What about this very moment?

There is a Zen practice called ‘drinking deeply’ that involves breaking through the restrictions of a busy mind to fully appreciate everything for what it is. When you’re eating, you experience eating fully – the taste, the colour, the texture of the food. When you’re in the garden, everything becomes special: the flowers, the sky, the air, the hum of the insects, the feel of the earth below your feet. Nothing else is needed. Everything just is. And you are there, noticing and appreciating. It takes practice, but we too can learn to do this in our own way, with our families, at our job, in our busy life. We can take the time to do it.”

Isn’t that just lovely? And there’s more! To be continued… tomorrow.

The Tale of the Sheep-Lion.

// August 7th, 2008 // Comments Off // Decisions, Inspiration, Life (and the living of it), Philosophy

It’s Friday, so I thought it might be time for a little storytelling session… So sit back, make yourself a cup of tea, and enjoy.

There once was a baby lion cub whose mother died. Orphaned, he was taken in by a flock of sheep who taught him how to eat grass and how to bleat, and how to move as one with the flock. They loved the baby lion, and he loved them, but there was a part of him that knew that he didn’t really fit in. One day, a fully grown lion came bounding over the hill and into the middle of the flock. The sheep all ran away in hysteria, but the young sheep-lion recognised the similarity of the lion to himself, and approached him. In time, the lion taught the lion cub what it meant to be a lion (although he never once ate sheep!)

Now obviously, I’ve paraphrased that (probably quite badly) – it’s from my practical philosophy course. But what it serves as is a bit of a parable. We take on the nature of those around us, because it’s what everyone does. But then one day a lion appears – either externally in the form of an event or the ending of a relationship or an illness etc – or internally, when we suddenly have a lightbulb moment. And in that moment, when we’re face to face with our ‘lion’ we’re reminded that we’re more than human. We see the truth of the situation.

We acquire certain traits to play the game of life, and they’re good and necessary. But they aren’t all that there is to us. We all have a number of different roles – daughter/son, mother/father, boyfriend/girlfriend, employee/employer, teacher/student, friend. We all have these roles, and we can play them beautifully, so long as we remember that they aren’t all there is to us. The layers that we coat ourselves in – which might seem permanent and substantial – get shattered when we’re exposed to the truth. Our world demands to be interpreted differently.

And that, I think, is something to be thought about…

Perspective, viewpoint and generosity of spirit.

// August 29th, 2007 // 1 Comment » // Inspiration, Life (and the living of it), Strange Nervous Laughter

I’ve been thinking about perspective a lot lately – the absolute conviction each of us holds that our view of the world is the only view, the logical view, the sane view. Of course, untangle this a bit and it’s totally impossible.
And really bad for our health.
But isn’t it funny that we’re all walking around with these little cardboard boxes of perspective over our heads? I think a lot of the time they stop of us from really reaching out to other people, and making a human connection. Before the other person has even said hello we’ve decided what they’re going to say and how we’re going to react, and how the conversation will end. Exhausting, no? But quite difficult to escape – it’s not like you can just peel the way you see the world from off your eyes and look at things in a fresh way.

The other side of the table is, of course, viewpoint (which probably means the same thing, and which I’m using as a synonym for attitude because any time I hear the word attitude I think of motivational speakers punching the air. And even though I have a motivational speaker in Strange Nervous Laughter, I’m not taking her seriously. Not really.)
So viewpoint. The filter you use to determine how you feel about things. Not enough sleep? Tired. Too much work to do? Stressed. Annoying people surrounding you? Pissy. But it is a choice (I think). Not enough sleep? Wired (much more fun than tired). Too much work to do? Exhilarated. Annoying people surrounding you? A good excuse to take a walk.

And then there’s generosity of spirit, which I think is the lace tablecloth over perspective and viewpoint. (How’s that for an effective extended metaphor, hey?) Increasingly, I’m beginning to think generosity of spirit is essential. It’s that space where you can see past your own stuff and reach out to someone else. Not even necessarily in a big way, just a little moment of connection, like poking a finger out of your cardboard box and wiggling it. Just so that we’re not all walking around so entangled in our own heads that we don’t notice this whole life thing isn’t a solo mission.

So that’s what I’ve been pondering lately, the way all our different lives fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. What you think?