jo.loach@gmail.com - Life is calling

Animal attraction

I love animals.

Well, let me clarify. I wouldn’t love it if a hungry bear was bounding towards me with ‘You’re my supper’ written in the glint of its eye.

But, generally speaking, I love and am fascinated by animals even if some require more distance than others.

Recently, I’ve been enjoying the series on BBC 1 called Serengeti. It follows the lives, loves and losses of various animal groups from baboons to zebra’s to wild dogs to elephants and many more.

I absolutely love to watch the animal kingdom navigating its way through the ups and downs of the seasons of life and nature.

The background music and narrative are at times a little cringeville but the group dynamics are mesmerising. They are remarkably similar to our own. Whether the existence of leaders who are out for themselves versus leaders that put themselves out for the group or the rejections, betrayals and reconciliations between family members, the premature deaths that remind all of the fragility of life, the separation process when animals grow up, the victory and defeats between rival groups competing for the same meal and even the love bonds that form between unrelated group members’.

The entire range of life events and emotions are played out between these groups. Whilst it is a dog eat gazelle kind of a world, with one group surviving at the cost of loss to another, there are also deep displays of tenderness, love and even sharing between competing groups, in times of plenty.

There was one scene where the body of a dead elephant provided food for many. Whilst enjoying such abundance, the usual rules were laid aside to allow natural enemies to feast side by side.

I’m so struck by the parallels between the animal and human kingdoms. These species highlight the need to belong to a group, not only to survive but also to fulfil their reasons for living. Something that simply cannot be done alone.

A little closer to home, I am enamoured by the animals that we have trained to become our house companions, for it is these that have the most profound experiential effect on our lives and our health.

I’ve been drawn to animals since I was a small child who used to happily while away numerous hours outside with our pet rabbits.

There is something so simple, raw and honest about the connection between a human and an animal. It’s instinctive, wordless and cannot be forced. But when the bond is there and allowed to develop, I believe it can have a profound impact on both.

Animals offer us unconditional, judgement-free, affectionate love.

They don’t care what shape, size, colour, nationality, faith, occupation or social standing we hold or aspire to.

They just love us.

Amazing!

I’ve always been incredibly moved by the stories I’ve read or heard about relationships between humans and animals. Nearly always there is an imparting of healing that appears to reach a deeper part of us than our fellow humans.

Recently, I’ve read about three life enhancing experiences resulting from the relationship between a human and an animal.

First off was the connection between a travel writer (whose name escapes me) and his pet goose. Or was it a duck? Either way their relationship spanned many years and this vocab free companion provided a presence like no other in the life of the writer. The grief that accompanied the passing of this animal was not something that could have been predicted or suppressed.

Secondly, I read of a military person struggling with a diagnosis of PTSD who literally stumbled upon a small puppy in the midst of an abandoned warzone. The relationship that developed was life saving for both. The trust and affection that this animal gave to this human provided a love that made his life worth living.

The third article was about a vegan who adopted a pig found wandering the streets. Said pig became a regular fixture on the sofa of said rescuer and her husband! So endearing! I mean, who doesn’t love Babe right?

I’ve heard so many stories about how the power of the wordless love of an animal has bought hope and healing to many a heart. Or even of pet dogs who have highlighted cancer within their owners, thus allowing them to get treatment as well as supporting them through their recovery.

Or the story of A Street Cat Named Bob who empowered the man who found him to turn his life around from homeless drug addict to a man able to enjoy making his contribution to life.

And of course there are many, many ways in which dogs support and care for us humans whether dogs for the blinds, dogs to support children with autism, equine therapy, dogs or even horses taken in to hospitals or nursing homes or supporting police in their work.

The list goes on and on.

I think that animals are absolutely amazing.

And the attraction and relationship between us is a gift of the highest order.

Not only can they enhance the quality of our lives but they equally play a significant role in sustaining our mental and emotional health. Possibly because they can’t speak! They simply offer us their presence.

When it comes to the healing of our hearts, more often than not, we don’t need clever words, solutions or attempts to fix something. We often long for a wordless, unconditional, judgement-free, affectionate presence of love, within which we can begin to heal.

Pets are profound in their ability to reach us with their eyes and their presence, both when and where we need to be reached.

What a gift!

Sleepwalking

I’ve read a few interesting articles about the above recently.

Apparently, some people eat vast amounts of food whilst sound asleep. Other people rack up bills online through sleep shopping. Both acknowledge the presence of stress as a precursor to such behaviours.

I find this a fascinating phenomenon.

Whilst I can’t pretend to fully comprehend it, I do know that we all manifest our internal distress in different ways. For a relatively small proportion, this is expressed via nocturnal activities undertaken whilst fully asleep and thus unable to control.

But there is another form of sleepwalking which is within our control and which appears to impact the masses.

In addition to said articles, this other form of sleepwalking has recently been bought to my attention through the experience of those I listen to. And I am aware that such experiences are prevalent.

What I am referring to is when an individual begins to realise that they have been sleepwalking their way through life. As in, during their waking hours! Not really living, not fully connected, not necessarily aware of the subtle choices they are making and generally existing in a state akin to sleepwalking.

Such a realisation often arises following the arrival of some kind of crap bomb within an individuals’ life. The type that disrupts every part of the life preceding it, evoking great concern as to how their previously ‘comfortable’ life could have fallen prey to aforementioned crap bomb.

When such an individual seeks therapy at this point, we begin to examine and explore their previously unexamined minds, hearts and lives.

What usually follows is that the previously denied parts of the heart and mind, aka the most uncomfortable thoughts and feelings, now have the space to surface, be explored and made sense of.

These explorations usually bring a new level of awareness and understanding about themselves and their lives. This gradually facilitates a reconnection to the whole of their heart as it effectively becomes rewired, bringing with it a renewed capacity for aliveness. Heart, mind and spirit become resuscitated and rejuvenated.

The more they are able to own and process what they previously could not, the more they become able to enter in to, engage with and enjoy the reality of actively and proactively making life choices about their present and future.

The renewed experience of enlivened wakefulness facilitated by this reconnection, then highlights the time lost within a deepening disconnect that left the waking sleepwalker in a state of deadness or numbness.

Such revelations usually bring regret for the realisation of the loss that cannot be recovered.

Painful as these insights can be, they are an unavoidable part of switching from sleep walking to actively leading a fully connected, wakeful life.

All too often it takes the arrival of the crap bomb to shock and awaken someone to the reality that they are sleep walking their way through life.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

We all have a choice.

One that is worth activating before the crap bomb descends.

Although, often people tell me that the very worst experiences in their lives are the ones for which in retrospect, they are most grateful. For these experiences enabled them to see what they had previously become blind to. And at this point, the life that had been reduced to an existence, endurance and survival, becomes ready to change in to a life of active, conscious and connected choices, typically accompanied by a renewed capacity for gratitude.

Whilst the losses must be worked through, what follows is a renewed enthusiasm and energy for reconnection, reclaiming and recreating a life that they actually want to live and remain awake within.

This signals the end of the years of sleep walking and the start of their wakeful living.

Unlike those who unwittingly undertake activities whilst physically asleep, those who are emotionally and spiritually sleepwalking whilst awake, do have a choice for change.

And, it’s not only via the crap bomb that such revelations can occur.

Last week someone was sharing how their entry to retirement has facilitated the necessary time, space and energy to reflect and notice that which previously gone unnoticed.

In their case, they realised that they had been sleepwalking their way through their working life. Where they had been going through the motions on autopilot, they were now reclaiming their capacity to become and remain connected to themselves, others and the world around them. Their quality of life and wakeful living had subsequently improved.

None of us are beyond falling in to a state of sleepwalking during our waking or working lives.

But the key is to prioritise proactively making the time and space to step back from all that distracts and occupies us, to review and reassess where we are, how we are and what and how we are doing this thing called life.

We can’t make, let alone implement choices for change if we are yet to notice that we are sleepwalking instead of wakeful living.

We must first be willing to notice, to see and to respond appropriately including seeking help when necessary.

Life is way too precious for us to allow it to be stolen from under us without us even noticing.

Once fallen prey to the subtle but life stealing way of sleepwalking it often turns weeks in to months, months in to years and years in to a lifetime.

There really is no need to wait for something terrible to shock you out of your reverie, or for a retirement that may never come.

We don’t get another shot.

This is it.

Here and now.

Are you awake?

Different types of Hope

As I’ve listened to people recently, my attention has been drawn to the different types of hope that we experience.

What I have noticed is that there is a hope that something or someone will become what we would like it, or them, to be.

This is a hope that leaves us hope-full.

When full of such hope we are able to take the risk of engaging with new people/activities/places.

This hope literally fuels our ability to continue participating in life; having a go, taking risks, accepting opportunities without knowing the outcome and ultimately, continuing to live.

The more we utilise our hope in this way, the more we learn that even when things do not evolve in the way we had hoped, we still learn and grow. This knowledge allows us to retain the necessary hope to continue engaging with what life has to offer despite the inevitable disappointments.

We know that we win some and we lose some but either way, we refuse to stop playing this great game of life.

This hope could be called healthy but realistic.

Quite simply, this hope enables us to continue living, learning and loving.

This hope keeps us alive.

But there is another kind of hope that does quite the opposite.

This other type of hope is based on the desire for someone, something or some place that used to be life giving and enhancing but no longer is, to return to being so.

This is a hope that if left unfulfilled for prolonged periods, can leave us hope-less.

The longer we remain with someone, something or some place that renders us stuck in a cycle of hope followed by disappointment, the more hope-less we become as our hope is literally drained from us.

In turn, the less hope we are left with, the less empowered we become to take the risk of seeking that which we need, elsewhere.

We may instead become stuck to the very person/place/thing that is draining us of the hope required to keep engaging with the healthy changes that life offers.

Consequently we may begin to disengage from our hope-lessness and even from life itself.

We may cease to really live, learn or love.

This hope could be called misplaced or a false hope.

It is a hope that torments us leaving us unwell.

Fortunately, should we find ourselves in such a horrendous position, there is a God in whom we can always place our hope.

For He is the God we can go to again and again and in whom we will find the necessary hope, strength, courage and support to face and address any situation that is stealing our hope.

That is a true hope.

Love and anger

Whilst these two make an unlikely partnership, I find them both equally fascinating. As I do the relationship between them.

They are universal emotions that we all experience to more or lesser degrees. Hopefully more of the love than the anger but either way, they are two of the most powerful and enlivening emotions.

I’ve been thinking about them more closely recently as I facilitated a teaching on anger a few weeks ago and I’ll be teaching on love, this weekend.

As such, I’ve been paying more attention to both than usual.

It has reminded me that what I regularly see through my work is how the human difficulty in acknowledging let alone tolerating, valuing or understanding anger, can serve as a barrier to the flow of love.

I’ve seen this again and again.

The person who cannot even speak to another such is their suppressed anger towards them. Yet after allowing said anger to be felt, expressed and released in a healthy, contained way, they realise that their ability to see, speak and listen to said person has been restored!

Now, I’m not suggesting that deeply entrenched, complicated matters can be so simplistic but I am saying that unacknowledged, unprocessed, un dealt with anger does block love.

This applies whether it is anger to another, anger to the self or even anger to God.

Whilst anger is a healthy and important emotion that points to where our boundaries have been broken, an injustice has been experienced or an unmet need requires a response, if we don’t acknowledge this honestly, it will seep out indirectly as well as harming us to hold it within.

Anger is a such a necessary emotion but if we hold on to it, it prevents us from fully loving the one it is felt towards, be it, us, another or God.

It blocks love.

It is as if you cannot have love and anger travelling down the same heart lines at the same time. We can feel love and we can feel anger but we cannot have both flowing through our hearts together. Like oil and water, they are not compatible. They cannot mix.

And if we fail to deal with and release our anger in appropriate ways, it acts as a barrier to the flow of love.

Yet when we examine, explore and expunge our anger, the heart becomes free once more for love to flow forth. The degree to which the love flows is directly linked to the degree to which we deal with all those horrible love blocking feelings, of which anger is the most powerful.

And if love is the most precious thing any of us can ever receive or give, doesn’t that make anger, as its biggest threat, worthy of our acknowledgement and attention?

I was recently reminded of the power of anger to block love.

An ongoing, minor, yet irritating situation has evoked a strong sense of injustice and anger within me. The effect of which was a total block of love and an uprising of angry words that I wasn’t proud to be spitting out. I was experiencing how powerfully anger can arise, wiping out any kind of loving thoughts or actions in the process. Whilst I had to deal with what was triggered within me, it was a timely reminder that whilst holding on to that anger, I could not also house love.

I needed to make a choice.

Hold on to what I felt to be justified anger, causing myself to behave in a way even I disliked and was taken aback by, or actually acknowledge it, work through it and make a choice to let it go.

What I couldn’t do, was pretend it wasn’t there and fill up with, let alone share, love!

Whilst the anger had a hold, the love couldn’t get a look in!

And whilst I’m all too aware of the unavoidable experience of and necessity for anger, I have no desire to hold on to this at the cost of losing that flow of love.

I’ve tasted both and I know which I prefer!

It’s just that sometimes I need reminding that I have a choice.

Otherwise I fall in to the trap of unthinkingly reacting badly to what I experience to be inconsiderate behaviour from another. Whilst I’m not willing to be anyone’s doormat, I can’t respect myself if I use an annoying experience of another to excuse my own poor response. And of course responding badly fuels and invites more of the same.

And I guess that’s the thing, whilst all kinds of stuff, serious and inconsequential will come at us in life, we get only to choose how we will respond.

Will we add more anger and horribleness in to anger inducing situations or will we acknowledge our honest emotions, let them go, be filled with love once more that we can send that back in whatever way is appropriate whether actions, or prayers from a distance.

My first reaction in this recent situation wasn’t one I’m proud of. But then God did that thing He does. He reminded me that I was preparing a teaching on love and I might like to reflect on how loving my own behaviour was!

I kind of love and hate that He does that! Because as uncomfortable as it is to admit to my own poor behaviour, it is also liberating to own, acknowledge and choose how to deal with it. In doing so, I can choose not to allow it to fester to my detriment and not to continue the cycle.

Anger requires dealing with promptly.

Life is too short to hold on to anything that blocks love.

Loss & Life

This week has seen me enjoying a bit of space to simply be, in between the usual commitments.

What a treat.

It has enabled me to do a little processing of recent events such as the sudden death of a young woman. This has also tapped in to the death of my spiritual mother.

I was aided in my ability to engage on a heart level with these deaths via a book a friend lent me. It is called Love, Interrupted, by Simon Thomas. It is an incredibly honest account of Simon’s experience of losing his wife, the mother of his child, within the space of three days. It is quite simply, heart rending.

It serves as a painful reminder of how utterly cruel life sometimes is as well as illustrating the subsequent suffering that such heartache inflicts upon those experiencing it. Not just the death but all the losses that ripple out afterwards; the loss of how it was, the loss of no longer being like others or having what others have. It is almost a series of mini deaths of life as it was known, that follow the initial death.

And, due to the lack of honest conversation around the reality of death or loss, those losses that follow often go unnoticed. At least they do by those not experiencing them. This can really add pain to a process that can already feel unbearable.

I haven’t quite finished reading this book yet and part of me doesn’t want to. Ironically I’m avoiding it ending! I just find it so refreshing and reassuring to read of someone being so honest about the harsh reality of death, the losses that follow and the messy impact it has upon the human heart.

It is rare for someone to resist the urge to down play such a process for fear of whether others can handle it. But I have only the utmost respect for the writer’s courage in sharing this deeply painful, isolating, lonely, angry, messy experience whilst also managing to find moments of utter beauty and joy as him and his son continue to create new ways of living alongside the ongoing loss.

For anyone wanting a better understanding of how grief can be, I would totally recommend this book.

Death and loss are of course an unavoidable part of life.

As much as we don’t like to talk about it, death will come to us all and none amongst us know when.

And whilst death is the most obvious form of loss, it is most certainly not the only form. Loss comes in many guises, lots of which are not visible or acknowledged. Loss may come via the ending or death of a certain situation being what it once was whether a career, health, relationship or anything else. It may also be present via the loss of something that has not happened or been the way we have wanted or anticipated.

Loss infiltrates our lives subtly by continuously.

Things change, situations change, we change.

Death happens.

Life happens.

Change is unavoidable.

And loss runs throughout these realities.

I was reflecting upon these themes during my precious free moments this week. Loss and death are such inevitable and yet painful aspects of our experience of being human.

And yet, all around us, new beginnings and life are equally at work. They don’t cancel one another out or render each other any less meaningful or painful, they simply co-exist.

It has given me great pleasure this week to see the new buds of life that continue to appear in my garden at the moment, from roses to sweetpea’s to clematis. They symbolise such hope. For whilst parts of life are constantly ending and changing, my garden reminds me that new parts continue to emerge and develop.

I love this.

Well, I love the new growth more than I love the old endings and loss! But I do love the way both make up the whole picture.

It is not always easy when there is a loss of the way things were but the more we allow ourselves to engage with the emotional reality of this, the more we become able to notice and embrace the new life that begins to peak through.

I’ve experienced clear moments of the spark of life and joy erupting back through me this week following the stunned haze left by the recent death.

I’m grateful.

Death and loss keep happening.

But so does new life and growth.

Death Strikes

Following my fun fuelled holiday extravaganza, I crash landed back to reality.

I eased myself back in to my responsibilities over a luscious lunch in a coffee shop where I caught up with my email and voicemails.

What I could not have anticipated was a message informing me that an individual I had worked with for six years, had died three days after their ending session. They were 30.

I could not comprehend it.

I listened to the message three times before promptly bursting in to stunned tears.

How could it be?

I was utterly shocked and saddened.

Initially I thought I would hold my practice as planned for two hours that afternoon and then allow myself to absorb this news. But I quickly realised that was ridiculous and most certainly not practising what I preach.

I cancelled my practice.

And I called the one who had left me the message. The person in question had awoken one morning in pain and died within the hour. The funeral service was being held the next day.

I couldn’t contain my sadness and my stomach immediately began having pains, partially from the big lunch I’d just had and partially from the shock and emotion of this news. My body was struggling to digest everything on every level.

I cried out to God, ‘How could you allow it?’.

I just felt overwhelmingly saddened by the unlived life I had imagined they were being launched in to living as they left my practice that last time.

Some people really commit to doing the work and this was one of them. Subsequently they experienced the benefits and left the process in a very different place to where they started it. And they had their whole life ahead of them.

Or so I had assumed.

My strongest defences; reason and rationale immediately did what they do. They reminded me that I know that life can be cruel and unfair and that it is all too often the real givers of this life that get taken early or unexpectedly. They added that none of us are entitled to a certain amount of life as much as we like to imagine we are. Every minute of every day is a gift we cannot take for granted.

In short my defences attempted to divert me from the emotion.

The shock.

The pain.

The disbelief.

The sorrow.

The whole, but how can it be? I only saw them a few short weeks ago; smiling and being who they were.

How could they no longer be here?

How could their life with so much ahead be wiped out in an instant?

Whilst my head knew there was no explanation, no reason, no sense to be made of the situation, my heart still sought it.

As I spoke to my best friend who I trained with, she asked me, ‘Jo, are you angry with God?’. I said quite possibly, but I couldn’t access it if so.

Later that evening as I drove to meet another friend, I discovered that yes, I was actually very angry indeed. I was angry at the injustice, the cruelty, the loss, the senselessness.

I realise God doesn’t have to justify Himself to any of us but at that moment, I felt angry about that. I wanted to understand something that quite simply cannot be understood. It can only be grieved. And I wasn’t about to deny or suppress the anger aspect of my grief.

The service was the next day less than twenty four hours after I heard.

The tears came as soon as I saw the hearse and they didn’t stop coming throughout the service. I hid away at the back.

It was beautiful and full of humour. It reflected the character of the one whose life it celebrated. But it was of course desperately sad too. Such an enormous gap would be left for so many people. I couldn’t begin to imagine their loss.

There was a wonderful line read out at one point which jumped out at me. It was a reminder that when grief comes, not to ever push the feelings down or away but allow them to come and to go as they need to. I loved the simple truth and wisdom of these words. For we must indeed learn to welcome our sadness as we welcome our happiness, for each are fleeting emotions worthy of our acknowledgement and compassion.

Anyway, nearly two weeks later I am still struggling to get my head let alone my heart around this.

My stomach continues to play up, reminding me that I am not leaving enough space to digest or process anything. After this weekend, I’ll be in a position to have more space and I’m looking forward to that.

Death is such a painful reminder of the fragility of life. None of us know how long we have. Any of us can be taken in an instant.

The challenge to balance living life to the full, with a refusal to ignore the painful aspects of grief, remains sharper than ever.

I’ve stopped asking God why and started asking Him where He is in this. I still don’t understand and I never will. But I see His hand right from the moment I heard the message. I could see two friends in the coffee shop who I had intended to speak to after finishing my messages. I could speak, cry and have a hug with them before leaving. I saw Him in the subsequent phone calls and meetings with friends.

He was there when the person unhesitatingly responded, ‘I’ll be there’, when I asked them to accompany me to the service. He was there in so many other ways too. Whilst I will never understand why these things happen, I know that when I’m willing to really look, I will find God right there in the midst of whatever with me. And that knowledge and experience humbles and breaks me every time.

Death has a way of forcing a re-evaluation of that which is important in life and that which is not.

All it really seems to come down to is trying to be as loving and kind as possible to the people around us, including ourselves, especially when they or we are hurting. To attempt to spread something life enhancing that recognises the value of each human being and the fragility with which our lives hang. And to give of the gifts of our truest selves, without holding back.

For what else really matters?

Fun Therapy

It turns out that all the research I did in to which holiday to book, paid off.

With time off being so precious a chance to recharge, the last thing I want is to get it wrong and come home still tired.

But I can honestly say that where I’m usually eager to return to my beloved bungalow, this time I’d had so much fun that I was seriously reticent over returning to my responsibilities.

I wanted more play time.

The holiday started as soon as I embarked upon my train to the airport. One of the NZ family who had been visiting was getting the same train in to town to pick up the Eurostar to Paris.

I was headed straight for Gatwick to catch a plane.

My destination was Samos. This is a small, yet still unspoiled Greek Island which is quite simply, stunning.

As soon as I arrived at our resort, I was blown away by the beauty of the bay. The colour of the sea was ever changing but always beautiful. And as water is one of my favourite things, I was pleased to immediately sample a lovely pool at the Hotel too, just a few short steps from the sea itself.

I was surrounded by my favourite things; a swimming pool, the sea, the sun, great people and good food. I had everything I needed. In fact, I didn’t set foot in a shop all week. Utter bliss!

My greatest dilemma of a morning post a holiday sized breakfast, was whether to set myself up at the pool or the beach.

Divine.

The beach often won out just because it was so utterly mesmerising simply to gaze out at. Plus the sound of the water gently lapping at the shore was akin to a sense of God stroking my hair. There was something SO comforting about it that I never tired of it.

Whilst I rarely sat on my lounger, on the odd occasion I did, I promptly fell asleep!

But it didn’t happen often for the call of the sea and all you could do on, in or by it was too delicious to resist.

I started off with kayaking which I seldom seem to do these days. And it was great to swim the length of the bay and back. Such a treat for the eyeballs compared to swimming lengths in a pool!

I also joined a few others for a walk down to another bay, this one a sandy affair.

Another day, I cycled a different route to the same bay for another dip in the cooling waters.

And a little later in the week, I cycled to a white chapel overlooking another secluded bay where I took yet another dip.

One morning, I dragged myself up for a 7am paddle boarding session. I hadn’t tried it before and have been wanting to for some time so I thought sunrise was as good a time as any to try! I wasn’t disappointed. The silence alone was sacred.

Having thrown myself in to everything on offer including the early paddle board, I’d totally worn myself out by my mid week so I had to take a very early night!

Then after watching someone having a windsurfing lesson, I decided this was a great opportunity for me to have a go. So I did! Apparently I have good core strength and balance as I was able to stand up and windsurf a little on my first lesson. The pilates IS paying off!

In lesson two, after repeatedly falling in the sea and repeatedly clambering (unelegantly) back on to the board, I finally managed to fly across the sea for some distance before landing back in the sea’s cooling embrace. By which point, I noticed how far I’d come out and that I had no clue how to windsurf back the other way!! Fortunately, the lovely young man who had taught me swiftly appeared in a motor boat to tow me back.

After that, said youngster took myself and another lady out on a cat (?) where I could simply laze on the side enjoying the view and the breeze.

Such fun!!

And that was just the fun of the daytimes.

Each evening at 5.00pm and 8.45pm, I attended dance lessons where we learned social foxtrot, the waltz, the cha-cha-cha, the rumba and the jive.

It was just an explosion of FUN, FUN, FUN!!

I did skive off a couple of 5pm classes as I wanted to lounge around in the evening sunshine but otherwise I attended the lot, learned heaps and laughed masses!

The entire experience was a treat of the highest order.

Total fun therapy!

And now of course, it is time to plan the next one!

The Lies of Labels

This week as I listened to people, I noticed a clear theme emerging.

It is … labels.

I’ve always had an aversion to putting labels on humans. After all how can we possibly reduce something so complex and beautiful as a human, to one or two words. Labels cannot ever convey the depth or wonder of any individual being.

Yet I have also been challenged by someone to consider that certain conditions which can be viewed as labels actually help to inform and educate others as to what an individual lives with. This can be experienced as incredibly helpful by individuals with certain diagnoses when it alerts others to the challenges of said diagnosis. I can see this.

Yet what I am noticing more and more is that we all pick up labels early on in life. They are inevitable. They appear within families where siblings are compared against each other. They appear within peer groups and pretty much anywhere there are humans because we are all so prone to comparing and competing with one another rather than recognising our own value in its own right.

Sometimes, another gives us a label and sometimes we adopt them ourselves. Whichever way round, these labels are usually derogatory as opposed to complimentary in nature.

My problem with labels in this respect is that they appear to stick with some of that hardcore superglue that renders them almost impossible to remove. These can be like those price stickers which are SO annoying to get off.

And the issue with these labels for humans is that they stick to our insides; our minds, hearts and souls where they continue to influence the way that we view ourselves and consequently how much of ourselves we are willing to acknowledge or offer to others or even life itself.

In fact, I would go as far as to say that each derogatory label can serve as a bind or a chain that restricts and restrains us from attempting to step out in to new areas of growth and exploration.

For example, if we are labelled as being no good at x, y or z and an opportunity presents itself in that area, these internal labels may whisper, ‘but you’re no good at that so there is no point in embarrassing yourself by trying’. In this way, they act as restraint that pulls you back or at the very least, renders you stuck or unable to move towards said thing.

Now, of course there are things that we are all good at and things that we are not and we need to be honest about that. But that honesty works both ways as in not just being honest about our own limitations but being equally honest about our own strengths.

It is important that we examine these labels we wear because if we believe a lie about our true potential, this may prevent us from trying things that we are actually able to achieve with the right support.

Each and every one of us is made up of way more parts than any single label could ever hope to convey. By adopting a limiting label, we effectively shut down the parts of ourselves that do not fit the label, thus losing parts of ourselves and reducing our wholeness.

Hence I do not like labels for people.

They are life limiting.

They imprison us in to reduced versions of ourselves.

And the earlier these labels are taken inside of us, the more work is required to remove and replace them with more life giving, accurate ideas about ourselves that allow room for growth.

And so, we must know ourselves well enough to recognise who we really are in order to reject others misplaced notions of who they think we are.

Knowing the truth about who you are, sets you free from the labels that others may put on you. Not just free to know who you are and who you are not, but free to live that truth out, unrestricted, not merely in words but actions too.

Now that’s a freedom worth pursuing.

The Garden as Teacher

It’s finally become warm enough to start planting up my garden. I love this time of year when I can start growing all manner of flowers and vegetables.

As I reflected upon this I realised that my approach to gardening has changed. My first years foray in to gardening consisted of buying the plants fully in flower.

I wanted an instant garden.

But my instant garden very quickly began to teach me that which appears in an instant, seldom lasts. Because I discovered pretty quickly that flowers that are bought in full bloom die off. At which point I thought that I had killed them and would have to buy more!

Fortunately, I was educated that when you continue to look after these plants, and to remove the dead parts, in time, new flowers come through. It could otherwise have been a very expensive first summer of gardening!

I learned a lot that first year.

First off my beautiful display of flowers was almost completely destroyed by slugs and snails. I had to learn how to protect the new life that I was nurturing from that which was attempting to destroy it. After trying all the eggs shell, coffee grinds, beer traps and picking them off after dark tricks, I did resort to pellets.

I also had to learn about seasons and cycles as well as which plants like lots of sun and or water and which don’t. There was a lot of trial and error.

But quite unexpectedly for me, right from that first year my garden began to teach me about trust, patience, care and timing.

Especially when it looked like nothing was happening to a plant on the surface yet when I continued to care for it, in its own time, new flowers began to burst forth.

I began to see parallels between the plants and us humans. Even when we feel like nothing is happening outwardly or we cannot see signs of progress, when we continue to apply appropriate self care, things do happen beneath the surface. For in time, we too begin to bloom again.

I do so love to watch what is happening in my garden.

Each morning I take my cup of coffee around the garden to survey the new life. Each new bud or flower evokes immense pleasure!

Since that first year I’ve experimented with a bit of fruit and veg. Some of which was successful, others not.

But consistently, it has taught me about watching and waiting.

Now, in my fourth summer of gardening, I have noticed that although I buy a few plants that are already in bloom, I have mostly bought little bedding plants that will take weeks of continuous care before they show any signs of their potential beauty.

I am no longer seeking the instant garden for I am immensely enjoying the process of nurturing, watching and waiting for these plants to flower.

Because although sometimes it is great to have something instantly, more often than not, there is more pleasure to be gained from the process of creating and waiting!

There is a level of satisfaction and reward within this that does not arise from the instant gratification approach.

The end result is all the more enriching for the waiting.

And the increased ability to wait does of course go hand in hand with an increased ability to trust and to recognise and respect timing.

I continue to enjoy all that my garden teaches me.

So much of which, can be applied to life itself.

From striving to surrender

One of the major challenges of being someone who is passionate about so many different things is how to focus and distribute my energy wisely.

There are so many different things I want and love to do.

Yet I only have a certain amount of hours per day as well as energy per hour. And I’ve been attempting to squeeze too much out of myself to invest in all of my passions at once.

The result of which has been that I’ve ended up running around at a ridiculous speed without really making serious progress on anything or even enjoying the process.

What folly!

Of course this is standard modern day living. But I don’t want to ‘live’ at such an exhausting, unsustainable, frantic and counterproductive pace.

It was becoming particularly pronounced over these past few weeks where it was seriously beginning to wear me down.

A quote I once read kept appearing in my mind.

‘God does not assign us an overload’ – by I can’t remember who.

Hmm.

So why was I assigning me an overload?

Similarly, I kept thinking about the scripture in the message version of Matthew 11:28-30.

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me – watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly”.

I love this, especially ‘the unforced rhythms of grace and learn to live freely and lightly!’

Yes please!

And every so often I get in the place where I experience these things and I think yes!! I’m in the God led sweet spot and what could be sweeter. But before I know it, I’ve veered off God’s course again and on to my own. Striving, forcing, rushing and stressing replace surrender, trust and being in the flow.

Sigh!

So having been partially aware of this for some time now, I decided to examine the situation more closely.

As I waded through my confusion about what projects to focus on, I discovered that actually, God gave me a very clear remit back at the start of the year. On reflection, every time I had worked on something in line with that, there was that flow. The ideas and inspiration appeared as and when I needed them. Sure, I had to do my part and apply myself but things flowed.

Yet every time I raced off down my own path on to something else, there was the exhaustion and frustration of striving and tail chasing.

Time to revise the game plan.

Again.

As in, back to what I should have been doing in the first place.

Having parked that for which it is not time and refocused my energy on where it should be, my sense of order has been restored, a sense of movement re-instated and my previously AWOL peace, joy and enthusiasm, are back in town!

Yay!

Now to try and keep them there!

Because, no matter how hard I work to recover more space in my day, life and home, when I’m investing in things that are not in season, my efforts become a source of frustration rather than fruit.

How grateful I am that God is so patient with me!