Today we visited the Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland.
Perhaps you’re wondering where I might go with this…
I’m in for a good story as much as the next person, but aside from the dramatic stories of camels, giants and lizards, our tour guide explained to us the conditions that created a particular rock combination in the area. Lava flows and the soils between them make for a combination of hard grey rock, soft rock that peels like an onion and crumbling red rock that together make the dramatic landscape around the giant’s causeway.
He pointed out to us a particular vein of red rock that we saw at the beginning of our walk and didn’t see again for about two kilometres or a mile. This red rock was formed by the conditions around it and then followed the contour of an ancient riverbed to pop up to the surface again on the other side.
We are not rocks, but we are full of layers formed by the conditions around us. Major events will create these veins in the contours of our lives that pop up; perhaps quite far away from the original place where we noticed it form.
How do we be intentional about the impact of these events? We can recognise the unusual layer that pops up every now and again, observe where it lies and allow it to become a thing of beauty instead of a weak point.
I’ve talked before about the wave of anger that used to override my senses every now and then. People who know me, know that I’m not generally an angry person. But every now and then this fierce anger would rear its head. Think of that as the weak vein that pops up every now and then.
Alternatively, there was a person that used to put me on the defensive. If anyone brought this person up, I’d clam up or get upset or tell a story about them. I used to have ‘issues’ with this person and those who knew me well learned to expect my reaction.
I mention these two different examples because one of them was a generational thing – reflected in several members of the family and the other was my own issue that no one else seemed to share.
What is your unusual layer? What is that thing that pops up every now and then?
It could be any number of things.
Over time as I observed the anger issue, I noticed a pattern of what would lead to my angry outbursts. It was often when things that seemed outside of my control pushed me into a situation where I felt that I would let someone down or that I would look bad… like if I was trying to get out of the house and one of the kids slipped in the mud. Waiting for those extra few minutes to change cloths would make us late and away I went ranting and raving.
So, what was I to do? What caused those moments? This might come as a surprise to you; but I suggest that it was partially to do with me being an optimist.
Here’s how the pattern went: I thought, optimistically, that I could get one more job done before we headed out the door. I did the ‘one more job’ which either pushed us to the limit time wise or made us a minute or two late. So, with the pressure now on, I now needed everyone else to move fast and get in the car so that we could make up lost time. When this didn’t happen, I would burst with the horrified thought that someone might think ill of me for being late.
This was the contour of the land that was shaping my bursts of anger.
Amongst other things, I needed to learn that sometimes I need to leave that extra chore undone until I got home again. That was really hard to do at first. But by allowing myself an extra minute or two, the pressure on leaving eased a little.
When we notice the contour of our habits, we can reshape them.
That’s why I keep talking about being curious: notice what your own patterns are. Curiosity is not always about questioning everyone else, sometimes it’s about looking for patterns in your own world and seeing what works for you and what you can change.
Our habits create a contour for our lives. Patterns develop based on how we behave and if we recognise and explain the contours, our unusual reactions become predictable. We can decide whether they get to stay or if we change things to modify where or how they turn up.
I’m now thinking in the area of offense: what is the contour that brings up the offense every now and again? Could you work on the contour or habits that lead to that crippling emotion that causes you to crumble? What could help you to forgive and heal from the event that took place?
In the end, each layer of our lives contributes to the mosaic that makes us unique. When that layer has settled and the cataclysmic event that formed it is just a memory, no longer the dramatic upheaval that it once was, it can become a thing of beauty: a story that others can appreciate, learn from or marvel at the nuances that it created in your life.
That crumbly red stone that used to symbolise falling apart or losing control might actually become a beautiful contrast to the hard events that lead to its creation. When it’s fresh or unhealed, that vein can be a weakness that we want to hide. But when we allow it to heal and to settle, others can see that vein and appreciate it’s beauty.
We can recognise the unusual pattern that pops up every now and again, observe where it lies and allow it to become a thing of beauty instead of a weak point.
We are not rocks, but we are full of layers formed by the conditions around us. Some conditions of our own making and others that happen outside of our control. Some of those layers are visible and constant. Other layers are softer, crumble away and might spend much of their existence hidden – only surfacing occasionally.
We all need strong layers, but also parts of us that are soft. It is those soft parts of us that can identify with the plight of others.
The Giant’s Causeway attracts many visitors that come to see the unique beauty of the rock formations. As we heal and offer our unique story, we won’t become a tourist attraction. However, we might display a life that gives hope to others, calms them or helps them to heal.
