Hey gorgeous

I received a couple of intriguing messages this week about Invisible Woman encounters.

One of them gave me pause to think about what it is that we are really doing when we care for others.

In my experience, caring for others very often looks like doing boring, difficult, dirty work.

Whether that is taking care of children = feeding, cleaning, logistics, discipline, distraction, endless reminders to make healthy choices ;

or corporate governance = endless reminders to anticipate and mitigate foreseeable troubles in finances, ethics, operations, legals, marketing.

Caring can often feel thankless too, because when done skilfully, nothing exciting happens.

That is, people show up at the right times at the right places and do the expected things competently.

There is minimal drama and chaos associated with a well cared for entity, whether that’s a child, a family, a multinational, or anywhere in between.

The point of caring then, of doing the boring, difficult, dirty background work, is

so that more people can be safe to show up and shine.

Going forward, I’m trying for the audacity to say “I care for the genius of others” when asked what I do – and what I’m passionate about.

Day to day, for me, that looks like being a mum, a wife, a librarian, an activist, a volunteer.

For you, it probably looks different in some areas, similar in others.   I invite you to try it on and see how it feels (whether you say it to anyone else or not).   “I care for the genius of others”

This is essential work.  Building safe creative spaces and communities.

“Wifedom : Mrs Orwell’s invisible life” by Anna Funder speaks eloquently to this.

Eileen O’Shaughnessy Orwell (wife of George) was a charming, intelligent, strong and capable woman who cared selflessly for the genius of another.

As a narrative, viewed from the outside, her story is a tragedy.  A cautionary tale of caring too much, and not enough for herself.

This is a very familiar story for far too many women.  To be clear, the failing is not in women individually, but in the system that expects and accepts/extracts our care of others’ genius, without offering the same in return.

Just as we wish the genius of Eileen Orwell had been better taken care of, we must protect and nurture our own creative spark, so our stories can follow a more joyful trajectory.

You are doing great things.

And you also deserve lightness and joy in spades.

Which brings me the other Invisible Woman share, identifying her with Dakini, the most sacred aspect of the feminine principle in Tibetan Buddhism

Dakini is a wonderful expression of the Invisible Woman for your consideration.

From around the internet:  (google for more)

• Dakinis are energetic beings in female form, evocative of the movement of energy in space.
• Dakini in Sanskrit, Khandro in Tibetan, literally means “sky dweller” or “sky dancer,”
• The dakini is the female ruler of the muladhara chakra. She can unlock energy and potential in the individual. She is a creator and preserver.  Muladhara, the first chakra is located at the base of the spine. “Muladhara” means root, and is associated with the earth element, linked to your ability to dig in and feel firmly rooted in your life.

Recently, artist Shona Wilson co facilitated a playful spiritual practice called “Dakinis at your fingertips” with Choying Khandro of “Dakini’s Whisper”.

Here, I encountered qualities of joyful presence in dynamic experience, reminding me again of a truth I have experienced enough times to trust it better than I do:

Being in a creative experience feels much bigger than the description of what happened.

Which makes me think of the TARDIS – bigger on the inside than the outside.

You can walk all the way around, and it’s a small thing – and when you dare to open the door, it’s a whole other adventure.

I feel many of us are overlooking small moments of deep joy in our lives, as we try to act serious and responsible, like we have everything under control.

I am certainly hoping to connect with more of the kind of giggling wisdom that Dakini/the Invisible Woman invites us into.

Taking all this into consideration, a healthier, more accurate and inclusive claim for what I do, as a carer, could be expressed as

“I nurture genius/creativity/brilliance in myself and others”

I invite you to try that thought on for yourself, especially if you identify as a carer and feel undervalued/unappreciated.

I’d love to know how it lands for you.   And what spark of joy it might give you permission to breathe into your life.

Hit comment or connect (bottom of the page) and share as you feel willing.