Weathering the Storm
Thoughts and Images - Natalie Shering
Last week, I wrote about the importance of checking-in with ourselves and of recognising and accepting where our energy levels are sitting, particularly if we find that our boat has drifted into the ‘Doldrums’. This week, I’ve chosen another image from a back catalogue of photographs I’ve taken of the sea over the last few years, and I’m using them as inspiration to continue my exploration of different energy states, how we might notice and become aware of our own fluctuating energy levels, and how we might respond to that with purpose.
I took this photograph in August, 2019. The view is of a run of chalk cliffs in East Sussex, England, known as The Seven Sisters. It’s taken from a vantage point at the top of ‘Birling Gap’ - one of the longest stretches of undeveloped coastline in this part of the world, now in the care of The National Trust. As the Trust’s website explains – it is “where the South Downs meet the sea…from atop the ancient downland, you can see spectacular views”.
I remember that I’d not been sleeping very well and, following an exhausting night of tossing and turning, I decided to make the best of a bad situation by getting up extra-early and going to the beach. When I got there - not long after sunrise, and before the masses had descended - I was rewarded by this exhilarating, and, for that time of year, totally unexpected scene.
That August, Sussex was being battered by some unseasonably tempestuous weather systems. Storms were rampaging across the county leaving a trail of devastation in their wake, and on this morning, the winds had been so strong that I’d struggled to open the door of my van in the car park. It was just before 6 am, and although the sun had risen half an hour before, I could feel no warmth emanating from its watery rays. The sky was an ominous dark grey and the whipped air was spritzed with tangy spray that bit at my ears and cheeks and filled my nostrils. I could hear the roar of the angry sea even before it even came into view.
Early though it was, I wasn’t alone at Birling Gap. Three other people had also made their way there - no doubt drawn, like me, by the prospect of an invigorating blast to the senses. I had a nice chat with two of them: they were kitted out in fully wind-proofed gear, binoculars in hand, and were now making their way steadily up the steep incline of the cliffs on the sheep-nibbled grass to see what birds they might spy. Incredibly, down by the shoreline, there sat the lone figure of a woman, sketching away with charcoal, seemingly unphased by her proximity to the enormous, crashing waves. I decided to split the difference, and made my way to the metal staircase that led from the cliffs down to the beach, stopping half-way down, about 5 metres or so above the raging mass of water.
I was high enough up to be safe from the immediate danger of being swept away by a sudden gust, but even at this slightly removed position, the ferocity of the sea was breath-taking. An unrelenting churn of frothing white spume, constantly heaving and smashing against the cliffs’ glaring chalkface, and starkly contrasted against the forbidding sky. This seascape could not be more different to the eerily calm, misty image I used to illustrate The Doldrums - the first instalment in this All At Sea series. The image here is the polar opposite of that first one: this is wild, tumultuous, electrified. It is an altogether more energised scene, and it represents the emotional state of High Energy/High Stress.
As with the rise and fall of the waves, each of us has energy levels that will go up and down and, just as is the case with The Doldrums, most of us will from time to time find ourselves encountering states of High Energy/High Stress. The feelings that this state can induce will manifest differently at different times for different people, but can be suggested by using some analogies: a nervous tension that may give us the edge when being interviewed for a new job for example, or the euphoric, slightly hysterical feeling when we pull an all-nighter in order to meet an important deadline. In an example of a sustained High Energy/High-Stress state, I am put in mind of the last 12 months of us all having to deal with multiple lockdowns and the drained exhaustion that many of us are feeling because we are juggling so many things at once e.g. home-working, home-schooling, redundancies, cancellations, travel restrictions, social distancing etc.
Some people thrive when they are surrounded by the metaphorical stormy seas and thunderous skies of a High Energy/High-Stress state. They experience the battering of the waves against their breakwaters as an opportunity to prove their mettle: the adrenaline kicks in, and it becomes the activating force that they need in order to be at their best. However, if this heightened state of energy goes on for too long, it can be extremely fatiguing – even for the most robust amongst us. Constantly battling the storm – being hit by wave after wave of demand upon our inner reserves – can potentially lead to us being completely engulfed – to being sucked under and dragged out to sea. In this constant High Energy/High-Stress state, we are no longer thriving, we are only surviving.
Our bodies are physiologically adapted to be able to deal with times of stress (think of the ‘fight or flight’ response) and we have this capacity in order to cope with the peaks of stress that life can throw our way. But after each peak, there must be a trough: when we’ve been subjected to the raging seas, we need to allow ourselves a period of recovery to recuperate and reconnect. And there is a danger that, at times of constant high energy/high stress, the peaks and troughs become crushed together, so that there is effectively no recovery period at all. Having to withstand a frantic cycle of stress with little time for recovery, will deplete our energy reserves so much that we may end up being overwhelmed.
So how do we weather these storms when they come? Using the NRR* methodology, we can start by being aware of the signs, and by noticing that the storm is approaching. We can remind ourselves that all storms will pass eventually, that we have weathered storms before, and that we are still here. It is vital to ask ourselves if our relationship with the peaks of high stress is one that allows for recovery, and if not, to start to build in those necessary troughs. And whilst we are in the midst of the turmoil, we can hunker down, and we can reflect upon the sometimes regenerative, reshaping effect of storms: crumbling soil and rock are eroded and washed away, leaving fresh, new earth exposed. Treasures, waiting to be discovered, are deposited on the shoreline. The air is clearer, fresher – now cleansed of its impurities by the torrential rains.
If we give ourselves the time to notice what is happening around us and within us, and to then respond with positive intent, a period of High Energy/High Stress can give the impetus needed to devise new, creative ways of thinking, to uncover strengths and capabilities that we didn’t know we had, and to see the landscape of our physical and emotional environment through refreshed eyes. By doing this, when the tempest moves on, we will not only have weathered the storm, but we will also have responded to all it has thrown at us, and we will be stronger for it.
*NRR = Notice, Respond, Repeat: The practice of deliberately noticing what is around us, reflecting, and then responding with intent. Ad Infinitum.
