One of my great joys in writing coaching is getting to read the writing of the people I work with.
Before we are writers, we are readers. When we read a story we’re transported usually to another place and time. Words on a page take us simultaneously further into ourselves and enable us to empty out. That’s certainly my experience.
I heard someone once say that the call ‘Namaste’ is equivalent to saying ‘the spirit in me greets the spirit in you’. For me, that’s the relationship between readers and writers.
Last week it was when reading a blog post written by Matt Bagwell that I had an immediate and visceral ‘namaste’ experience. I felt the post was so beautiful, I wanted to share it with you. But why did it resonate with me?
It’s got a lot of sea in it, so that’s always going to score points with me. But more than that, it’s the descriptions, the details Matt shares in the piece.
A cockle’s ear
It’s the hands of the Newlyn fishermen, the sofa-like back seats in a Rover, or the unexpected lines and phrasing: “I eavesdropped on conversations that didn’t welcome a cockle’s ear”. It is soothing, rhythmic, imitating its subject. It lands on a pebbly shore delivering us up to Matt’s intention to engage daily in cold water immersion. In and of itself this is a content pivot, rousing us from the nostalgic sequence of snapshots he shares in this tale of man and water, straight into the brutally cold depths of 6-degree water wading and swimming.
For those of you who like background and context, Matt is a leadership coach, breathworker and writer who is embarking on a year-long exploration of what he terms ‘superhumanism‘. He’s not on a quest to become the next Clark Kent, rather he’s interested in how possible it is to be our best selves at the mental, spiritual and biological level, whatever actual age we are. You can read all about it where it’s expressed best – i.e. in his words – over on his website or via Instagram or LinkedIn
For those of you who simply want to read what I read, grab a cuppa and dive in to the excerpt below or click here for the full cold-water experience.
From Ice creams and Candy Floss
“I have few memories of my father from my childhood. Searching for the sea is one of the most vivid, engrained.
My father had a brown Rover 2000 when the marque was desirable and respected. The sofa-like rear seats were separated by an armrest that could be stowed in the cushions, a magical plaything for a six-year-old. As we neared our destination, the air would change, its temperature, density and fragrance, still, dry and salty. The anticipation would mount. It was close.
I’d sit up on the rest, braced between the two front seats, eager for the moment when the promise of sand castles, buckets and spaces, endless days and strange places to sleep all unfolded.
A glimpse, and then it would disappear behind hills, trees or roofs, only to reappear. Who would be first?”
Read more of ‘Ice Creams and Candy Floss‘ at MattCoaching.com
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