Dear Subscriber First Name,So many things have changed in the last few months, including my hands! Since we moved to the countryside nearly three months ago, my hands look and feel completely different. It's kind of bizarre. You might notice your weight going up or down, or your biceps getting bigger at the gym, but I seem to have unintentionally transformed my hands. They’ve not only grown, but they feel more alive. At the end of each day I can feel the work I’ve done in them. My hands are happy living this more physical life—in fact, I think my whole body is. On the other hand (no pun intended), it’s as if my brain fell out. Did you notice this newsletter is late? Probably not. But yes, with all the physical work I seemed to have stopped writing, studying, even thinking. Until this week. After our last two working retreats, the first job on my list was to sort out my little study. It had become a dumping ground while the rest of the place was shaped into somewhere guests could stay. Some people function perfectly well in a dumping ground, but I’m not one of them—maybe you are? I seem to be very affected by my environment, especially how it looks and feels. This week, with the study sorted, I’ve been planning a couple of retreats, writing some important letters, and getting back to my 'zettelkasten' which is where I do all my studying. And slowly, I can feel my brain waking up in the same way my hands have. For a year or two I’d worked almost entirely on the computer, without even a garden to tend. Sure, I’d go for a walk, run the hoover around, even go to the gym—but that was maybe two hours a day. The rest of the time was spent sitting on my backside. These days, there’s a lot of talk about “somatics” as a practice, we are feeling the need to be more in touch with our bodies. I remember when I lived at Tiratanaloka years ago, it’s a retreat centre in Wales. I would go running in the mornings and sometimes pass the local sheep farmer. He’d look at me as if I were completely mad. He’d spent every day of the last 40 years tending to his sheep—a life that was physical from dawn till dusk. I don’t imagine he ever wondered if he should “do more somatic practice.” For him, to live was to live in the body. During the working retreats here we seemed to hit on a really good balance of work, contemplation and rest—with the day equally divided. Around the same time, I happened to be reading about the Benedictine monks, who also divided their day between work, prayer and study. Like the monks for the people on our retreats, it wasn’t that they were on retreat and also had to do some work; the work itself was part of the practice. Especially as it was outside, with hands in the earth, red kites circling above, the sun warm on the back of the neck. There’s a real connection between hands and mind. As Susan Biali Haas puts it in her article:
Using our hands may actually be key to maintaining a healthy mood, and the lack of this type of activity may contribute to feelings of irritability, apathy, and depression. It doesn’t have to be gardening, of course. Hands love to cook, to sew, to paint. And ideally the rest of the body gets involved too. In the winter, it’ll be more indoor creative projects for me. What I’d like to set up is a rhythm that keeps both my hands and my mind alive—a life a bit like the Benedictines: work, prayer, and study. Or in my own terms: work, meditation, study, and writing—with meditation including the important act of doing nothing at all. And to round off a perfectly balanced day, I’ll be on the sofa at 8:30 with my wife for an episode of Gogglebox.
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