jo.loach@gmail.com - Life is calling

New season, new space

It would be safe to say that we are well and truly in to Autumn.

There is a distinctly non summer-esque chill in the air, accompanied by tons of the wet stuff and a drawing in of our evenings.

No matter how many years I have experienced this, I always hear myself proclaiming in a somewhat surprised tone, ‘Oh, it’s getting dark already’, as if somehow this is a new phenomena.

Anyway, as I reflected on the change of season from my beloved summer in to my not so beloved autumn, I began to look to the parts of this season that I do like. Because, I realise that whilst I have favourite and least favourite seasons, there is usually something that I relish about each.

For this particular season, I have rediscovered the art of making vegetable filled soups. I serve these with homemade soda bread or cheese scones fresh from the oven. Massive yum!

I have also started appreciating relaxing in hot, candle lit, bubble baths again.

With four friends having October birthdays, this means food filled celebrations.

Plus there is the return of the hat. I love a good hat.

And, as I took a brisk walk early on a recent Sunday evening, I was reminded afresh of how invigorating an autumn evening walk can be! It’s all too easy to stop making the effort to get out for walks once the first chill of Autumn descends.

But, during that dusk walk I caught the sun setting over the hills against a silhouette of tree branches. This reminded me once more of how stunning nature is in every season.

As I reflected, I could not help but make the comparison with when we are not in our first choice of season on a personal level. As in, we may stop noticing what it does have to offer, if we’re not willing to look beyond what it doesn’t.

The reality is that there are highs and lows, good and bad in every season of nature or soul.

Like the rest of life, nothing is black and white.

Whilst the trees are stripped of their greenery, certain bushes abound in beautifully coloured berries.

I also see the late blooming clematis, the random poppy and the last few tomatoes.

Similarly, as I look within, I see some things are ending and others beginning.

For it is indeed a new season.

And, I sense a new space emerging.

It would seem that sufficient processing of internal emotions has cleared the way for a new burst of creativity to come forth.

A new space can be such an exciting thing.

Afterall, if we want to create something new, we must first make a space to do so.

We must also resist the temptation to immediately fill the new space merely for the sake of it. A hasty filling could block the new thing that is not yet known but that is attempting to come through.

Thus an ability to sit in the new space alongside any uncertainty is paramount.

Sometimes, the idea of space can cause folk a great deal of anxiety.

As in, if I slow down or even stop and be in my own space, will all the emotions I have been attempting to outrun, catch up with me? To which the answer is yes! But with sufficient understanding and support, this can offer a healing connection and release, thus freeing up the energy and space for new things.

Or, the fear is what on earth to do with an empty space especially if there hasn’t been one for way too long. Almost as if folk fear that the new space will swallow them whole without them being able to find their way out.

But as we look to nature we see through repetition that we do not need to spend the autumn or winter months fretting over the nakedness of the trees as if unsure whether the new leaves of Spring will ever come.

We trust in the seasons of nature.

So too must we trust in our own seasons.

What do you believe?

The subject of belief has repeatedly appeared in my orbit in recent weeks.

I am referring here to what we believe deep down about ourselves, others, life and God.

I have discovered that there are usually at least two layers to this.

The top layer is those beliefs that we profess with our words.

The second, deeper and at times unconscious layer, is what we profess with our actions.

Whilst we may say we believe one thing, our emotions and subsequently our actions will usually expose any discrepancy with what we believe deep down.

These beliefs can also change, particularly in the face of challenging circumstances.

This subject initially came up in relation to my work and the way in which what an individual believes, directly impacts what they feel and thus what they do.

As soon as this was flagged up to me, it started to stand out as I listened to the narrative of various people.

What we believe tends to become our reality.

Or it may be that we become unable to see, let alone take active steps towards something that we do not believe to be possible.

In fact, I was recently challenged to examine my own beliefs regarding a personal situation. As I did so, I realised that a certain set of circumstances had left me particularly vulnerable. The result of which was that my faulty old belief system had effectively been reactivated.

Prior to noticing this, my experience was becoming more and more in line with the expectations associated with my old belief system.

This was not a good thing.

Never underestimate the value of people who will tell you that which you may not want to hear. When true, the sense of liberation usually outweighs the pain.

And, by noticing what is tantamount to a weak spot within my boundaries, I could begin to strengthen this area by addressing the reactivated faulty beliefs about God and myself. I also realised the need to reconsider and readjust certain boundaries for certain situations. I could also understand, legitimise and process the real and valid emotions that accompanied the triggering set of circumstances.

As I reflected on the power of our beliefs to transform our experience for better or worse, I was reminded of the importance of identifying personal weak spots. These are the areas that typically took some kind of major hit during our formative years, consequently leaving us with faulty beliefs about God or self.

We can and must work through the pain of the original experiences that created any faulty beliefs, as well as correcting these beliefs.

But, we still need to recognise that if this vulnerable area takes a big hit, it may reactivate the original faulty beliefs thus highlighting that more work is required to strengthen the weak spots.

This is not dissimilar to when you’ve broken a limb and may subsequently be left with a weak area about which you need to take extra care if not wishing to reactivate the original break.

All of which highlights the need for the ongoing business of knowing thyself as well as knowing thy God.

We must make time to monitor not only what is happening externally within our lives but also what is happening internally in response.

And be willing to re-examine what we believe just in case any untrue, faulty beliefs have snuck in through a weak spot. Left unidentified, these could de-rail us.

Most of all, we must check whether we really believe that God Almighty is still God Almighty irrespective of whatever circumstances stand before us, from the slightly stressful to the life threatening.

Will we continue to believe He is who He says He is?

I know that in my own life, if I really did believe this at all times, my life could look remarkably different!

An ongoing challenge for us all to examine, re-examine and attempt to live out that which we profess to believe with our words!

The process of self care

Last weekend I had the gift of a three day weekend.

Something I planned in anticipation of a busy few weeks preparing for various teachings.

Finishing work at 7pm last Thursday, I headed straight to Wolverhampton to stay with a good friend in her beautiful home.

Time with close friends is always precious.

After Friday mornings’ long and leisurely breakfast of feasting and catching up, we headed off for our planned spa day. A longed for day of utter pampering and total relaxation.

Or so we thought!

First off we got in to the Jacuzzi where we quickly discovered that in reality, the chemical filled bubbles splashing repeatedly in to our eyes, felt more like hard work than relaxing! Ditto attempting to sit still, look ladylike and feel comfortable whilst sweating excessively in the steam room!

As such, both experiences were promptly followed by the much more relaxing option of simply lazing on a lounger in a warm room.

Zero effort required.

Finally!

At this point, I resisted the urge to fill this much wanted space with the distraction of a phone. Instead, I closed my eyes to fully focus on the experience of doing absolutely nothing! I was able to relish the sensation of simply being, in a warm, quiet room. Here I could allow myself to indulge in an introverts delight of wall gazing time. Minus the wall.

Processing was in process!

What luxury!

After a while, it was time for our scheduled massages.

And I love a massage.

Mostly.

But, as we compared notes afterwards, we discovered that we had both found them to be bone crunchingly painful in places!

“Relax”, my masseuse repeatedly urged me as she kneaded her knuckles in to my chest bone. Far from relaxing, I was issuing repeat prayers for her to stop! I couldn’t quite bring myself to ask her to stop as I was telling myself that this was ‘good for me and thus I must endure it’!

It turns out that my friend was having exactly the same experience. We laughed as we shared notes on our respective massages along with the privilege of paying for something that in places felt more like an endurance test than a pamper session.

I reflected on how I like the soothing, relaxing aspect of my body being massaged. But, I do not like the bits that are actually releasing stress and tension because these parts of the process cause me pain.

This is the pain of pain release!

Yet it would seem that whilst I want to benefit from the release of stress and pain, I do not want to go through the painful process required to do so!

I can’t help but wonder if this is how some of my clients feel; they like the supportive, comforting part of counselling that sooths their minds and hearts, but they do not like the more painful parts that actually facilitate the release of their internal pain or cause them the discomfort of knowing change needs to occur and they are the ones to make it happen!

Perhaps they, like me, want the end result without having to go through the process required to get there!

A reflection perhaps of our universal human desire to get some place without needing to walk the necessary pathway!

How we like to avoid the effort required, the inevitable pain involved along with the discomfort of uncertainty and risk that accompany us humans if we wish to stay well, alive and growing!

I can’t help but wonder how much extra and unnecessary pain our attempts at pain avoidance, may be causing us!

Point to ponder!

Living with Loss

As I reflect back on my two week summer break I can see things a little clearer.

Firstly, I had been limping along toward that break for quite some time. I’d experienced some fresh issues of loss, which had triggered other losses, both of which required my attention. Neither of which got it. Instead, I had fallen in to the trap of pushing it to one side to join my pile of ‘stuff’ to be dealt with at some unallocated futuristic date.

Mistake.

Consequently, my failure to turn around and face those losses square on resulted in them doing the jack in the box thing. I noticed them, I felt them, I used much energy to shove them back down and keep going with all the things that had to be done. But not only did they not go away, they continued to pop back up, lingering in the background as a subtle underlying presence throughout.

And so, when I finally arrived at the much longed for break that I was so desperate for, instead of being greeted with a big fat joy filled holiday high, there was my unprocessed grief.

The very same grief that I had deluded myself in to thinking I could simply skip over without consequence.

Even though I know this stuff!

I didn’t recognise it at the time though.

I wondered why I was feeling rubbish when the sun was shining, the sea was shimmering and all responsibilities were well out of sight. I felt like my soul was out of sync with my surroundings.

As I was feeling a way that I didn’t want to feel, I tried hard not to feel the way that I didn’t want to feel.

And ended up feeling it even more!

Subsequently, I sought out some quieter spots from which to simply stare out to the great blue sea. It was hard to spot where the great expanse of sea ended and the sky began. But I found this sea/sky gazing super soothing.

As was the luxury of time to read the book that I never made it to book club to read or discuss. What an inspiring, amusing and overall uplifting book to indulge in.

I was also able to take immense pleasure from indulging in the most enormous cream tea I have ever laid my eyes let alone my chops on. I was most disheartened to be unable to manage all the cream. Obviously I wasn’t 100%.

The mornings saw me resisting the call of the beach for running. Instead I chose to linger in bed for as long as I could without missing breakfast. I equally relished the chance to get back in to bed early each night too. A treat indeed.

I took leisurely daily walks to the neighbouring beaches complete with drink and newspaper reading breaks en route.

As I reflect back on my experience, I can see that in the run up to the break I had dismissed my feelings for tiredness and in need of a break-ness. But of course, this assessment of the situation fell flat on its face when the break arrived and this limping feeling sharpened rather than dissipated.

And that is the down side of the increased phases where grief is not so present. I forget what it feels like. Just like when a physical problem arises then when it’s healed you forget all about it. I had enjoyed long enough without the grief to forget what it felt like. I had been too busy enjoying life to even want to spot the grief returning. Again.

Plus, after several months of feeling content, to suddenly feel that creeping sadness, felt worse than when the sadness was a regular feature.

I hate grief.

Or rather, I hate that when I fail to recognise and respond to it, I begin to lose my joy.

I especially hate being on holiday minus my joy. And this holiday most definitely did not qualify for my most light hearted or jovial of coastal retreats!

Yet as I reflect, I realise that whilst I was disappointed to be accompanied by my grief on holiday, it also forced me to slow down and have the break that I needed if not the break that I wanted.

Post holiday as I acknowledged the grip of my grief, I was able to speak to those that I needed to help me to bear it.

Following a week that provided a banquet of friendship and nourishment that went far beyond my body and supported me to release the backlog of unshed tears, I gradually began to recover my mojo.

Halleluyah!

It seems so clear to me now that every time I try to ignore my grief, I succeed only in prolonging my suffering, delaying my healing and interrupting the flow of joy.

Maybe next time I’ll deal with my sorrows as they arise rather than postpone them until the holidays!

Then again, maybe I’ll need reminding again!

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?