13 Things the Leeds–Liverpool Canal Taught Me (Over 126 Miles of Magic)
I went pedalling along the Leeds–Liverpool (in reverse) Canal with a bike heavy as a small donkey and panniers full of snacks, dreams, and entirely too few phone chargers. What I came back with (apart from sun burn) were lessons. Real lessons. Canal-wisdom. Life-wisdom. Suzyness magicks.
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Oh and here’s a fun fact: the canal itself took 46 years to build. Forty-six! That’s my whole life thus far. Imagine a government today starting a project that wouldn’t be finished until the year 2071. Unthinkable. Back then, they dug and slogged and persisted until it stretched 127 miles across the land. There’s a lesson in that too, I reckon, Lessons about patience, perseverance, and trusting that good things can take a lifetime to make.
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Drop the shoulders
Sometimes Oftentimes, I'd be cycling along and realise suddenly that my shoulders were auditioning for cloud-level altitude. Release, exhaaaale. The canal repeatedly said: drop the tension, let me carry some of the weight.
Nature does that. It is always supporting us. Always rising to meet us, to support us.
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“Humans are great”
Using Couschsurfers and Warmshowers and receiving genuine hospitality from strangers is a profoundly moving thing. Community, connection, sharing, togetherness - it’s the stuff the world needs more of.
One of the hosts I stayed with had those exact words on their profile. And what a truth.
So thank you, Neil, Jade, Hannah, and Ian, for making sure my very first Couchsurfing experience was a fantastic one. You embodied that spirit beautifully.
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Stop comparing
Sometimes I’d tell someone on the canal that I was cycling all the way through to Leeds. They would be genuinely impressed. But to someone who has traversed a round the world odyssey, my little pilgrimage is going to seem very cute.
Pilgrimages are personal. We feel pulled to them for reasons only our own soul knows. The point is, it’s as the song says: ‘The road is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself.’ So why do we compare ourselves?
It makes no sense.
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No point of reference
I can still so easily feel a sense of being significantly ‘other’ as I go about life.
For example, I wouldn't have even stayed with people through Couchsurfing and Warmshowers when in the religion because it would have meant intermingling with “the world” (soooo sad, but true). My life was never lived on what most people would call a “normal track,” so what might feel ordinary to others is still extraordinary and utterly delightful to me.
I think since leaving the religion, I’ve often fooled myself into believing I just preferred my own company, when in truth, I didn’t have the capacity. The capacity to cycle all day and then enter into communion with people. To show up shiny and bright when my nervous system was already at its edge.
From a young age, the belief system taught me that people judged quickly: whether you were a “good” Jehovah’s Witness, “spiritual enough,” or whether you were weak in “The Truth.” Respect hinged on constant performing (all unconsciously of course), on getting it just right. That kind of wiring lingers long after you leave.
So to spend two nights in strangers’ homes last week, without fear of being “too much” or “not enough”, felt huge. A marker of growth in my nervous system’s capacity. And I’m deeply joyful about that.
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Quit the self-denigrating
When someone asks what I do, my automatic reply is: “Oh, just trying to build a business and failing.” But actually? I’m a woman rebuilding life from the ashes, after years labelled disabled, cycling canals, rewriting old codes, learning to be ever more Me. That story is inspiring, if only I’d tell it that way.
There’s even that Bible verse (Matthew 5:15) about not hiding your light under a bushel (though in my old world it was twisted to mean “talk about God at every opportunity”). The truth? I’ve been conditioned to dim myself, to downplay. I see it now. And the trick going forward?
Quit it altogether.
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Receive, receive, receive
It’s still an ongoing challenge for me. But notably, I’m more in my body (as opposed to spiraling in my head) than I was on Workaways in the summer of 2022, when, despite being explicitly told to help myself to food in the kitchen or pantry, I felt unable to do so. Even though this is exactly what Workaway is about: you work for people, and they provide food and shelter.
There are still remnants of that… but I’m learning to accept hospitality, or a host zhuzhing up my sad frozen pizza, because I know giving feels good. And receiving makes giving possible. And every time we receive in some way, the desire is often to pay it forward.
What a wonderful cycle to be part of.
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Tell all the beings you love them
Cows, swans, bees, dogs. Shout it out loud: I love you! Each proclamation ripples out. And maybe, just maybe, it’s me telling myself the same.
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Buy the thing if it brings energy
My 93 year old phone kept dying. I debated a £20 power pack, finally bought one at Asda, and oh the freedom, it gave me music, enabled me to to take photos, and check maps for forth coming accommodation. The pack broke within a day, but the lesson didn’t: sometimes joy is worth it, even if temporary.
And when I was back to no-phone again, great! More lessons in mindfulness.
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Storylines
Swans with two cygnets must have lost babies, right? Because their cousins up the road had seven. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s my mind, spinning tragedy where there is only life.
Other storylines about my energy levels - “I’m knackered!”
Or,
“I ought to be further ahead than this!”
“Holy Floof, the path here suuuucks…this is miserable!”
“I lack upper body strength…”
“I’m not going to make the next public convenience in time…” (my language was rather more coarse)!
And on and on and on…
All really just mirroring my thoughts of every day life…the frequent feeling I ought to be further along in life. Instead of just noticing the way the my fingers can tap the keyboard with ease, or hearing the way my feet meet the pavement, or enjoying that first smell of coffee in the morning.
The canal whispered to me: notice the stories. Then drop them (preferably in the canal!).
Come back to the body, come back to the senses.
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Lift heavy
A Bobbin Birdie bike with panniers (and snacks) weighs approximately the same as a baby hippo. Canal stiles demand upper-body strength. I have leg power galore, but lifting? Nope. So here’s to birthdays, kettlebells, and becoming strong in new ways in the coming year.
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Reconnoitring might help
Apple Maps told me my stopover was “40 minutes away.” Two brutal Yorkshire (think french alp-esque valleys) hours later, I arrived half-dead. Lesson: plan gently. Know your limits. And never trust Apple Maps unless you’re a Tour de France cyclist.
And in life? We often think we can accomplish way more than is actually possible. So be gentle with yourself. Enjoy the whole journey…it’s such an easy line to patter out…but really, what else is there?
There’s only Now.🪄
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Call in magic and miracles
I asked to see a kingfisher. I did. Then came the heron, the stoat, and a bee sting, all within about 30 seconds. Bee = initiation medicine. Heron = patience and poise. Stoat = joy, liminality, courage. Together, a veritable cosmic chorus of signs.
Even amidst the “OW OW OW!” of the bee sting, I sensed magic because I’m currently retaking an incredible Bee Dreaming Shaman course with the enigmatic Ariela Daly. Bees carry the medicine of community, sweetness, and devotion. A sting felt like a potent sign.
For me, being aware of signs, the energy behind things, is nothing short of magic. Even if part of you thinks it’s all poppycock, being open to something greater cracks the door to a whole other realm of mystical.
Follow the breadcrumbs.
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Record inspiration in the moment
A voice note on the towpath, right as the stoat danced past and the bee jabbed its medicine into my arm (I even have the “OW OW OW” on the recording 😅). If you don’t catch inspiration, it slips away. Write it. Speak it. Trust it. It’s come through you for a reason. Then once you’ve got it on paper, or in your Voice Note app, there’s now space for other magic and intuition to flow through you.
The canal gave me bruises, beauty, and belief. It gave yet further evidence that the world is kind, magic is real, and I am braver than I know.
* When was the last time you surprised yourself with your own courage?
* Which of these lessons speaks loudest to you right now?
Big Love,
Suze 🪄💫🐝
PS. If anything I’ve written in the last year has met you on a wobbly day, provided a little “Aha” moment or chuckle, then you can by all means buy me a slice of cake here:🍰🧁🎂
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