We are born into a story which becomes ours and shapes us as we grow and develop.
Shifting Sands is about shaping our own story by how we want to be in the world. Shifting is a living story held together by the essential need to become and to form.
In the beginning Shifting was a word on a page. The possible made visible as the wave draws back to a naked beach. A sudden flight on the wing of birds headed out to sea. It was 2016. It felt scary. So, I put my shoes on and tucked Shifting away in a shoebox.
In the beginning Shifting found a place with a space. It stepped out of the shoebox. It was 2017.
In the beginning life came to Shifting. Shifting came to life. It was 2018. Hand after hand holding bucket and sand.
Life, a bucket and spade. The everyday connected to the day before and the one before that. A place. A space. To footprint freedom. To shape and re-shape ourselves between tides. To become. To continually become who we are.
Shifting Sands Coaching: a place of sea change. A living story.
Do you remember the day you were able to lace up your shoes.
I wanted to walk backwards. They wanted me to keep up. In my house, everyone but me could do it. They did it to me. I got laced up. I didn’t want to be. They did it so fast, I was all knotted before I knew it.
I liked being shoeless. I didn’t like stepping over things. I liked stepping into things. I liked being unfitted so I could fit sand and grass and water between my toes. Be part of the world underfoot. Where stepping into puddles made splashes in the sky. Where walking backwards was the thing.
I look at my laces as I sit here in the Redwing café in Penzance. I find myself shoe gazing for laces. I wonder, why today. Do you remember the day you were able to lace up your shoes, I don’t. I remember laces trailing like the tails of a kite.
I was born left handed and my right, was always wrong. However hard I tried, tying my shoe laces never seemed to knot itself into my world. Instead, I lifted one foot and then the other into the world of possibility.
I danced with trailing laces. I gripped my shoes hard with my toes and spacewalked on earth. I slid right up to the top, tilted forward and slid along like crunchy nut ice cream down a microphone. Up steps and down steps undid me all over again. My feet dangling shoeless in the air. And then, there was the slip on slip off. It could last for days, even weeks if I was lucky. It depended on who tied my laces. They had to be just right, not too tight or too loose. Then I could move between worlds with ease. Slipping on and slipping off.
Do you remember the day you were able to lace up your shoes, I asked someone over my coffee cup. They didn’t, so I suggested they might like to pull out the bow and tie it again with the question in mind. They did. Someone by the door shouted they could remember, as they undid their shoe laces anyway. Another and another joined in until it felt like we were all undone together. Some were left handed, some right, some double knotted, others didn’t. Each, unique in one way or another. All glowed with the achievement of that day. Thrust into the midst of difficulty they had succeeded.