The Joy of Gathering (and why it turns to grasping)
The Joy of Gathering started life as part of my Notes From a Slow Coach Newsletter. Sign up here to receive future notes like this via email.
I love the initial oozy feeling of researching something new. Following the invitation into a labyrinth of corridors, with doors to peek behind and rooms to explore. The possibility and wonder.
Many highly sensitive people I meet describe having these experiences. When something captures their attention, they can slip into it quickly…and deeply. It’s a beautiful thing…for a while, at least.
However, that feeling doesn’t always last.
As experience grows and knowledge expands, so too might the volume and noise. We may notice there’s much more to it than we initially imagined.
This realisation doesn’t necessarily bring resignation or disappointment, but it can lead to overstimulation, especially when the initial energy and pace of the “aha!” moment keeps driving us.
Maybe what once felt like gathering has become clinging. An attempt to collect as much as possible, as soon as possible. To understand the nooks, crannies, nuances, and caveats revealed in what seemed so simple.
Connections Breed Connections
For highly sensitive people in this kind of whack-a-mole game, the more we grasp, the more other stuff we might notice. Previously unseen connections and parallels may begin to occur to us. Related stories and experiences have another canvas on which to be painted and re-contextualised.
All of this can be a beautiful, generative creative force. It holds so much potential for unexpected and accidental insights that make life meaningful. But it can also feel overwhelming, especially when paired with impatience and urgency. We might forget to stop, move our bodies, walk away, make art, and connect with other beings.
I find myself slipping from one state into another quite regularly. The love of exploring can inadvertently shift from a free dance into a shackled march.
Suddenly, I might be overrun by the need to know…everything…right now. To be certain I’ve covered all bases. Drop everything else and give this my full attention. To find just one more thing before closing the door, coming back down to earth, and taking the next step.
Is it possible to both identify and pause this process before it gains freewheeling momentum?
At our Serenity Island Picnic last night, I shared a letter I had written and recorded that morning. I hadn’t planned it beforehand. It arrived and unfolded in response to themes from recent conversations in our group WhatsApp. You might enjoy it, too…
My attention was caught by the word ‘gathering’. I had unknowingly drafted it three times in a single paragraph.
But it tugged at my sleeve all day, along with its sense of temporary depth.
It’s a word that imbues the confidence to arrive here without clinging to the moment or needing to make it more or less than it is. It simply responds to what this moment has placed before us.
‘Gathering’ also speaks to me of gentle rebellion and resistance to the demands of unyielding productivity, optimisation, and efficiency.
A gathering place has a different feel. Maybe it’s somewhere physical, or something more abstract. It doesn’t speak to me of forced compulsion or an outcome-driven expectation. Rather, it invites me to let go of actively hunting, striving, or rushing toward a demand, and notice instead what might be waiting if I am open to noticing it.
What comes to mind for you when you think about ‘gathering’?
