The way you framed wanting to make the snow into something that it would never be until it became something different was an absolutely beautiful insight. In the end, we can only control ourselves, not only when we’re ski skiing, but in the rest of life. Really enjoyed this passage . 🫶🏼
Maybe you need a pair of K-Tel Super Slider Sno-skates? Ha. It's always fun to slide in behind your thoughts here, Brenley! Fun fact: Did you know that a group of chickadees is called a "banditry"? Given your love affair for ravens, you must read Bird Brains: The Intelligence of Crows, Ravens, Magpies, and Jays by Candace Savage.
Just heading out for a snowshoe tromp in our woods to see who left tracks before us in the night.
Brenley & The Banditry. Great band name! Enjoy your apres ski or apres ski-doo. I just want one of those classic belted snowmobile suits for fulltime wear apres Mexico.
In my experience, thoughts like yours often come from a high level of sensitivity. High sensitivity can mean sensing emotional or atmospheric tension at a point where others still feel nothing at all. That alone can create stress, because the body is already responding to something that has not yet become visible or expressible.
This can feel like urgency. But I’m not convinced that this urgency necessarily comes from an ego trying to take control. It may just as well come from a sensitive nervous system responding with care to something it genuinely perceives.
If, in such moments, stepping back or choosing not to act is the wiser path, I don’t think it should be primarily because others object or don’t see the need. They may simply not be able to perceive what a highly sensitive person is sensing. Rather, the reason for stepping back is to protect oneself from slipping into over-responsibility — and from the stress of carrying more than actually belongs to oneself.
Thank you for this. I appreciate the way you frame sensitivity and responsibility here. I don’t think I actually considered the fact that it’s my nervous system responding. For me, I think the work is learning how to stay present with what I notice without automatically stepping into action.
I think that both can be true. Sensitivity can genuinely register something real in the field, and this alone can already influence the situation. At the same time, there is value in learning to stay present with that awareness without immediately stepping into action, which I think is a wonderful thing for all of us to care about. Holding both feels less like a contradiction and more like balance.
May we have gentleness with ourselves as we continue this exploration.
Thank you for your post, I always look forward to reading what’s on your mind. I think it’s so cool you have made your own ski track.
I love the silence of winter. To walk at night with snow all around and not hear anything except the squeaking of my boots on the snow and an owl or two.
I think with your profession you had to be alert and aware all the time and probably didn’t come across as softness because it was survival.
I think we all need to become softer for longer periods of time in this crazy world right now. I have tried to be extra polite and friendly to people because one never knows what might be happening in their world. So I am practicing softness and most of the time I get softness back.
Hi Jo! I’m always on the lookout for owls, but I’ve yet to see one around here.
When Lisa and I were making our second-last album in Nova Scotia, we were slogging through one of the songs, Seal My Fate, and it just wasn’t coming together. We were overthinking the guitar part or something and completely losing the plot. So I decided to take a breather and went outside with a little guitar, or maybe it was a uke, I can’t remember, and just started strumming and singing the melody.
All of a sudden, I looked up at the trees in front of me and there were two owls bopping their heads up and down and circling around to the beat. It was incredible! I stopped playing and they stopped. I started again and they started moving again. They stuck around for a good five minutes, then flew to another tree on the other side of the studio, and I watched them there for a bit. They were so interested.
When I walked back into the studio, Hil, one of the producers, had worked out a whole new picking pattern. What a gift.
One thing I do know is that compassion comes easily to me, especially with strangers. I go into high alert when someone needs help, or even when someone’s being a jerk and everyone is calling them out. I’m usually the one who asks if they’re okay first, because I know judging them right away isn’t going to help anything.
It’s the places where there’s history and old patterns that make softness harder to sustain. That’s the work for me. I'm in the midst of writing a new song on this topic ...x
The way you framed wanting to make the snow into something that it would never be until it became something different was an absolutely beautiful insight. In the end, we can only control ourselves, not only when we’re ski skiing, but in the rest of life. Really enjoyed this passage . 🫶🏼
Thank you for reading Rol. :) x
Maybe you need a pair of K-Tel Super Slider Sno-skates? Ha. It's always fun to slide in behind your thoughts here, Brenley! Fun fact: Did you know that a group of chickadees is called a "banditry"? Given your love affair for ravens, you must read Bird Brains: The Intelligence of Crows, Ravens, Magpies, and Jays by Candace Savage.
Just heading out for a snowshoe tromp in our woods to see who left tracks before us in the night.
A banditry. Now there’s a new one for me! I do have some snow feet but they really need a wide groomed space or they aren’t so fun. Hmmmm ski-doo?
Brenley & The Banditry. Great band name! Enjoy your apres ski or apres ski-doo. I just want one of those classic belted snowmobile suits for fulltime wear apres Mexico.
i want one too!
Beautiful reflections, as always.
Thank you for sharing these reflections.
In my experience, thoughts like yours often come from a high level of sensitivity. High sensitivity can mean sensing emotional or atmospheric tension at a point where others still feel nothing at all. That alone can create stress, because the body is already responding to something that has not yet become visible or expressible.
This can feel like urgency. But I’m not convinced that this urgency necessarily comes from an ego trying to take control. It may just as well come from a sensitive nervous system responding with care to something it genuinely perceives.
If, in such moments, stepping back or choosing not to act is the wiser path, I don’t think it should be primarily because others object or don’t see the need. They may simply not be able to perceive what a highly sensitive person is sensing. Rather, the reason for stepping back is to protect oneself from slipping into over-responsibility — and from the stress of carrying more than actually belongs to oneself.
Thank you for this. I appreciate the way you frame sensitivity and responsibility here. I don’t think I actually considered the fact that it’s my nervous system responding. For me, I think the work is learning how to stay present with what I notice without automatically stepping into action.
I think that both can be true. Sensitivity can genuinely register something real in the field, and this alone can already influence the situation. At the same time, there is value in learning to stay present with that awareness without immediately stepping into action, which I think is a wonderful thing for all of us to care about. Holding both feels less like a contradiction and more like balance.
May we have gentleness with ourselves as we continue this exploration.
Take good care, Evelyne
Thank you Evelyne. Lots of wisdom there and so much more learning and observing ahead of me.
How to stay softer longer ❤️
Wonderful. Thank you so much for this!!
Thank you for your post, I always look forward to reading what’s on your mind. I think it’s so cool you have made your own ski track.
I love the silence of winter. To walk at night with snow all around and not hear anything except the squeaking of my boots on the snow and an owl or two.
I think with your profession you had to be alert and aware all the time and probably didn’t come across as softness because it was survival.
I think we all need to become softer for longer periods of time in this crazy world right now. I have tried to be extra polite and friendly to people because one never knows what might be happening in their world. So I am practicing softness and most of the time I get softness back.
Hi Jo! I’m always on the lookout for owls, but I’ve yet to see one around here.
When Lisa and I were making our second-last album in Nova Scotia, we were slogging through one of the songs, Seal My Fate, and it just wasn’t coming together. We were overthinking the guitar part or something and completely losing the plot. So I decided to take a breather and went outside with a little guitar, or maybe it was a uke, I can’t remember, and just started strumming and singing the melody.
All of a sudden, I looked up at the trees in front of me and there were two owls bopping their heads up and down and circling around to the beat. It was incredible! I stopped playing and they stopped. I started again and they started moving again. They stuck around for a good five minutes, then flew to another tree on the other side of the studio, and I watched them there for a bit. They were so interested.
When I walked back into the studio, Hil, one of the producers, had worked out a whole new picking pattern. What a gift.
One thing I do know is that compassion comes easily to me, especially with strangers. I go into high alert when someone needs help, or even when someone’s being a jerk and everyone is calling them out. I’m usually the one who asks if they’re okay first, because I know judging them right away isn’t going to help anything.
It’s the places where there’s history and old patterns that make softness harder to sustain. That’s the work for me. I'm in the midst of writing a new song on this topic ...x