Compassion Autumn Winter 2023

23 tcf.org.uk Be aware, they said, present in the moment. The theory seems simple enough. It’s busy with people and cars, noises; wind, cold… I can hear the rustle of my waterproof jacket. Intrusive, unwanted soundbites from random songs in my head, where did they come from? Always look on the bright side of life… Islands in the stream… I still haven’t found what I’m looking for… Let it go… One earworm fades to bring another, more annoying, one. I try to make a poem from all this clutter and fluff when I realise that I’m anything but ‘present’ and ‘in the moment’ and I’ve disappeared down another rabbit hole. I decide to ‘let it go’ (STOP IT! I shout to myself) Refocussing, I clumsily acknowledge my unwanted guests and encourage them to move on. I move a little away from the group to get some physical and mental free-space. Now I feel I can be more aware of my situation without concern of colliding with another walker. I immediately think of ‘becoming one with nature’ and I feel embarrassed and self- conscious. The top-10 of annoying earworms starts again and I decide that now is not the time for mindfulness. Sun. Moon. Stars. by Sangeeta Mahajan May be it was necessary For the breaking open of me To merge my stubborn pristine solo-ness into the messy stream of humanity. For years my dry eyes focussed on the future narrowly They needed washed out Refreshed, to see possibilities new Maybe the sun was thirsting for me to wake up Maybe the moon was in on the conspiracy too I had been asleep inside my cocoon For years I lay coiled, closed in on me. All the stars are his friends now. My son points me out to them from above and says “You see her? She’s my mother. Ain’t she pretty?” Trying to be Mindful by Andy Pritchard COMPASSION | YOUR STORIES & POEMS