What is the weather inside you?

You wake up one morning and something feels heavy and gloomy inside you. The sun is shining, you have a lovely day ahead, and yet something doesn’t feel quite right.

“She must have got out of the wrong side of the bed,” they say.

But have I? I always get out of the same side of the bed! Day in, day out. 😉

I know, it’s just an expression. But I do have days, and I imagine I’m not the only one, when the weather inside me doesn’t match the weather outside. And sometimes I have absolutely no idea why.

Do you notice the weather inside you? Do you pay attention to it?

I think it’s important that we do.

If I snap at my children, if I’m less inclined to hold the door open for a stranger, or if I thank the bus driver only half-heartedly, does that make me a worse person than I was yesterday?

Perhaps I was kinder, more patient, more generous yesterday. So what’s different today?

If I take a moment to look inside myself, I might begin to understand.

Perhaps there’s a little worry lingering from the night before. My partner seemed a bit off. The children were particularly challenging. Or maybe there’s something about the day ahead that’s making me uneasy.

Sometimes it’s something really small, like having to meet a new colleague.

And my logical mind tells me, Oh, come on! That’s hardly something to worry about. Surely that can’t be why you’re feeling like this?

But perhaps it can.

Our rational minds are very good at dismissing what they consider to be insignificant worries. We tell ourselves that something isn’t a big deal, that we shouldn’t be bothered by it, that there are far more important things to worry about.

But our feelings don’t always listen to reason.

Something can seem small to our logical mind and still stir something in us. Perhaps uncertainty, a fear of being judged, a feeling of not being good enough, or something we can’t quite put our finger on.

And when we dismiss these feelings, they don’t necessarily disappear.

They might simply find another way of making themselves known.

Through our impatience. Our irritability. Our lack of generosity towards others. Through those little moments when we react more sharply than we normally would.

And then, to make matters worse, we start judging ourselves.

Why was I so unkind today? Why am I being so impatient? What’s wrong with me?

We can be surprisingly harsh with ourselves, particularly when we don’t understand why we’re feeling or behaving a certain way.

But what if, instead of judging ourselves, we became a little curious?

What is the weather inside me today?

Is there a little cloud of worry hanging around? A storm brewing somewhere? Something unsettled that I haven’t quite noticed?

We don’t always need to find an explanation. Sometimes we simply feel a little gloomy, and that’s okay too.

But noticing gives us a chance to understand ourselves better. To recognise that perhaps we’re carrying something today that we weren’t carrying yesterday.

And maybe that changes the way we respond to ourselves.

Instead of What’s wrong with me?, we might ask, What’s going on for me?

Instead of criticising ourselves for being impatient, we might recognise that we’re feeling anxious, tired or unsettled.

And I think something rather lovely can happen when we do that.

When we become a little more understanding and compassionate towards ourselves, we often find it easier to extend that same understanding and compassion to others.

So perhaps paying attention to our inner weather isn’t just about feeling better ourselves. It might also help us become a little kinder to the people around us.

After all, we never really know what the weather is like inside someone else.

And sometimes, even on the sunniest of days, someone might be carrying a little storm.

On Reflection

Have you thought about the meaning of this word? Reflection is about returning something, giving something back. Do we have to know how to take something in before we can begin to reflect?

I wonder how much of what we experience we actually allow ourselves to take in.

We see, hear, feel and react to things all day long. But do we really take them in? Or do we rush to make sense of them, judge them, explain them, or simply move on?

Perhaps there is a difference between experiencing something and allowing ourselves to be affected by it.

Think about listening to someone. Are we really listening, or are we already preparing our response? Are we curious about what they are trying to tell us, or are we filtering their words through what we already know, believe or expect?

And what about listening to ourselves?

How often do we allow a feeling to simply exist before deciding what it means? We feel uncomfortable and immediately look for a reason. We feel sad and want to make it go away. We feel angry and start looking for someone to blame. We seem to be in such a hurry to do something with our experiences.

But perhaps, before reflecting, we need to learn to receive.

To listen without immediately answering. To notice without judging. To feel without rushing to explain.

Of course, we can never be completely neutral observers. We bring ourselves into everything we experience. Our histories, fears, hopes and expectations all shape what we notice and what we miss.

Two people can live through the same event and come away with entirely different experiences. Neither necessarily holds the whole truth. Each has received something different.

And perhaps this is where reflection becomes interesting.

When we return to an experience, are we simply looking at what happened, or are we also looking at the part of ourselves that was there to receive it?

Maybe the way we take things in determines what we are able to give back. If we listen only to defend ourselves, our reflection might be defensive. If we listen with curiosity, perhaps something new becomes possible.

I wonder whether reflection is less about finding the right answers and more about becoming aware of the questions we didn’t even know we had.

And perhaps we don’t need to become particularly good at it. Perhaps we just need to slow down enough to notice what we are taking in, what we are leaving out, and why.

Because what we see in the world tells us something about the world. But it might also tell us something about ourselves.

When was the last time you heard your soul’s voice?

Art is the language of the soul.

Have you noticed what happens inside you when you listen to a moving piece of music? Or stand in front of a beautiful painting? Or read a poem that touches something deep within you?

It’s a feeling that’s difficult to put into words. We say something resonates with us, that it moves us. And perhaps that’s exactly what happens. Something inside us moves, rises, awakens. We might feel ourselves welling up, without quite knowing why.

When do you experience these moments? When was the last time you heard your soul’s voice?

Last night, I went to a small local venue to listen to a band I’d never heard before.

I loved their music. The harmony of the instruments created a whole sequence of feelings, images and experiences.

In my mind, I travelled to faraway places. I danced with wild animals. I died and was born again. I was flowing and flying, completely carried away by the sounds.

For an hour, my soul remembered that it was part of a beautiful universe.

And it came away recharged and grateful.

There were perhaps a hundred people in that venue. A hundred people who went home carrying something from that evening. Maybe not everyone was as moved as I was. But I imagine most took away at least a little joy, a feeling, a moment worth remembering.

Sometimes that’s all we need. A little something that helps us step off the rollercoaster of everyday life, look around and remember who we are beyond all the things we have to do.

Music is such a wonderful way of finding that space. It’s accessible, often free, and can reach us almost instantly.

But do we make enough use of it?

Could we sometimes replace the constant chatter of the news, the noise of social media, with something beautiful to listen to?

It seems such a simple thing. And perhaps one of the easiest ways to bring a little more joy, wonder and connection into our lives.