jo.loach@gmail.com - Life is calling

The Importance of Doing Nothing

Last Christmas I was fortunate enough to have a month on a dairy farm in New Zealand. This was with a very special family that I first visited in Christmas 2005 which subsequently turned in to me staying with them until August 2006!

We connected.

We fit.

We worked.

To re-establish the connection with them over Christmas by spending time in their midst was the most precious gift to me.

It was family.

And to be amongst them especially around the first year anniversary of losing my beloved spiritual mother, was the most healing and restorative experience.

I could just be.

At first they seemed surprised by my ability to simply sit and stare out the window. But then they realised that I hadn’t lost the plot, I was simply practising the art of doing that glorious thing called no-doing, or nothing!

Effectively, I was doing the equivalent of a phone being on recharge.

It helped that as the farm is situated amongst the green rolling countryside, the view out of every window was pretty spectacular. The assortment of fruit tree’s heavy laden with produce just added to the paradise feel of the place.

And, it gave me immense pleasure to use some of these fresh from the tree’s ingredients to bake all kind of goodies for such an appreciative, quick to devour style audience. As well as producing endless cups of very English tea.

I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful place to simply be with family enjoying cups of tea, long meals, walks and film nights.

It was a real wrench to leave them again having been blessed beyond belief by their gift of time and family.

But of course, life was calling and I had to return.

Having been gifted with the chance to recharge my batteries, I returned to my life with a fresh vigour and renewed capacity for all the things that I love to do. So I hit the ground running and threw myself whole heartedly in to them all.

This has been great.

But, just because I am no longer on holiday does not mean that the need for appropriate amounts of time and space to do nothing has disappeared. And having failed to schedule in enough of either, I was reminded last week that I need to slow down, pace myself better and guard my times to just be. Despite loving all the things I do, the need to also do nothing remains.

I know this stuff but how easy it is to forget. Or to get it wrong as my need for rest alongside my capacity for productivity are not static. I am delightfully aware that my capacity for all is significantly increased this year but I am not yet getting the corresponding balance of rest time quite right.

An article I read the other week also reminded me of the need to do nothing. Apparently the current trend amongst young people has shifted from YOLO – you only live once along with the FOMO – fear of missing out, on to JOMO – the joy of missing out!

And there was me thinking that such a joy, along with an appreciation for staying in and early nights, only arrives with the onset of middle age!

Apparently not as it would seem that even our young folk are realising that non-stop activity no matter how interesting, fun or on trend, is neither enjoyable nor sustainable.

We are returning to the age old wisdom that understands that in order to perform at our peak, we require times of inactivity.

The importance of rest or wall gazing time is for me at least, paramount. It allows me to process and to regenerate the creative juices. Without which I can find myself at a total standstill, feeling blocked. Not dissimilar to when my laptop freezes and refuses point blank to do anything.

I was reflecting upon this the other day when my laptop was going decidedly slow. I performed that high tech restorative operation of switching it off and on again, which appeared to breathe new life and speed in to it.

Gosh, I thought, if even technology needs to be completely switched off from time to time to allow it to function well, how much more must us humans?

It would seem that in order to prevent us from unwittingly slowing down, freezing or even crashing, we need to schedule in time to switch off from the constant stimulation of work, technology and modern day living.

In other words, we need to make time to be.

Be with God.

Be with family/friends.

Be alone.

But just be.

To this end, alongside a refusal to fill all the gaps in my diary, I’ve begun booking coastal retreats for the next few months.

I aim to try harder to remember the need and the joy of missing out, by developing, planning, monitoring and practising the art of doing nothing!

Within a Year

We are now well and truly into 2019. Yet, the theme of change remains, especially around the changes possible to achieve within a 12 month period.

Last week I stumbled upon something on line about a young couple who were hugely overweight. The narrator was drawing attention to the phenomenal following they had acquired as they shared their experience of losing weight over the course of a year.

Seemingly, they were incredibly honest about the reality of making these life changes. Through their hard work, commitment and discipline they were able to surpass their goals. By sharing their experience they were highlighting that such changes do not happen overnight or without cost.

As I reflected on the power of their experience to appeal to the masses, it occurred to me that whilst our culture promotes the illusion of the quick fix, deep within each of us lay the knowledge that this does not exist.

Of course, the idea of the instant cure or the miracle pill that takes away everything that we don’t want to think, feel or basically deal with is an incredibly alluring concept. But it is just that, a concept. Not a fact, nor reality. And furthermore, a concept if bought, that serves to keep us stuck where we don’t want to be.

If we want our lives to be different, we have to do the work of making them so.

We all like and some pray that the changes we want in our lives will drop out of the sky in to our laps with no effort required from us. But what really happens is that our lives look like whatever we have done with whatever has been dealt us.

And if we have spent many a year creating a life that we don’t like, then it is going to take a considerable amount of time to change that.

This sort of cold, hard but ultimately honest fact may deter some from trying to make changes. But, the time will pass regardless. All we get to choose is how we spend it. Invest in that which will take us closer to where we want to be, or expend energy trying to ignore being where we don’t want to be.

I think it is precisely because of the hard reality that change takes time, effort, courage and money, that so many shy away and give up without even trying.

But people like this couple on line showed that if change is possible for an ordinary couple like them, then it is equally possible for ordinary people like you and me.

I think their story is inspiring and encouraging.

And if the size of their following is anything to go by, so do many others.

It would seem that people are not just looking for the fantasy of the quick fix anymore but are actually seeking real life evidence that change can happen.

I guess the increasing number of films based on true stories is further evidence of this quest for that which is real.

As if to re-iterate the point, I accidentally caught a programme I haven’t seen before called, ‘This time next year,’ with Davina McCall. Several people were shown being interviewed a year earlier about the changes they wanted to make with regards to their weight, along with their motivation for doing so. Twelve months later they were interviewed again to share their progress.

Whilst most of these were motivated by some kind of threat to their health, all showed that change and progress are possible. Not easy. But with the right motivation and support, it is possible.

Change really can happen.

As the above examples illustrate if you’d care to look in to them, the amount of change that is possible with any twelve month period can be pretty staggering.

And, it doesn’t have to start in January. We can make a choice to start making steps towards change at any time. If we didn’t start in January, we have by no means missed the boat for 2019.

Right now is as good a time as any to get started.

Just imagine where it may be possible to be by this time next year.

The Easy Path

The above notion has come up a few times recently.

As people have spoken to me they have begun to notice that they are on an easy path, whether by choice or circumstance.

But as they begin to talk about this easy path, it becomes apparent that easy is serving as a smoke screen for boring, deadening and motivation for change, removing.

In short, it is not easy.

Perhaps it started out as easy at a time when easy was exactly what was needed.

But, somewhere along the path, it ceased to be easy.

Instead it became an illusion.

Or maybe a delusion.

But whichever ‘usion’, it is no longer one of ease.

It would appear that, that which initially appears to support us, has some kind of best before date. After which it ceases to evoke the best from within us. Instead it may cause us to trade our hunger for purpose, meaning or fulfilment for the illusion of ease.

If left unnoticed or unchallenged this easy path can slowly and subtly suck out our life blood along with any desire to persevere, grow, learn or take risks.

Ultimately, it can diminish our desire to really live. Not exist or endure, but live, as in fully.

If this happens, something within us shuts down and we begin a descent in to a zombie like state where we lose something of our capacity for full presence or participation.

We may become stuck on auto pilot, going through the motions without fully inhabiting our own experience.

If we remain here, this easy path can turn in to a bad relationship that slowly and subtly steals all confidence, leaving us unable to leave for fear of the alternative.

If this happens, our belief system may suffer.

Where we once believed that we could leave this path to do x, y or z, we may now believe that such an option is not available or viable, or that we are not capable. These new fear based beliefs may feel true enough to prevent us from even checking out their validity.

In short, the fear that attacks our beliefs may bind us to the very path that is stealing our vitality, joy, dreams and even our agency to bring about the very changes we desire.

Basically, we may become stuck on what has become a very ease free path.

Some people may call a rut. As in, you can’t go back, you can’t go forward. You are stuck in a deep rut.

When this realisation reveals itself, we do have a choice.

We can remain there. And adopt all manner of unhealthy behaviours to numb out the reality of doing so.

Or we can seek help to climb out of that rut and on to a new path.

Whilst help may come in different forms for us all, a failure to seek it will leave us knowing that we have traded our dreams or our values for the ease of a comfort zone that ceases to offer any comfort.

Once noticed, this sort of truth will nag away at us despite any efforts to suppress it. It may temporarily disappear but only to reappear a little later with a vengeance.

There are always choices.

Choose to stay and allow ourselves to becoming increasing disillusioned, disengaged and disenchanted with ourselves and our life.

Or, remind ourselves what is important and seek some support to do something about it.

If we can take steps towards a life that reflects our true values and desires, we will find it much easier to befriend the person in the mirror.

Change, as in real change, is never easy.

It does take time and it is hard.

But so is living a life that we have basically opted out of.

Will 2019 be your year to start putting in the ground work for the changes you want?

The Greatest Gift …

These past few weeks have been hard with a capital HA. Yet through them, I have been reminded of the greatest gift any of us can ever receive.

To clarify, I am not talking about stuff with a fancy brand name or an extortionate price tag.

Or even of the outstanding but ever changing beauty of creation.

Whilst I don’t particularly like Autumn or Winter (with Christmas being the exception), I do so love the stunning array of amber tones that we are fleetingly treated to as we transition between the two seasons.

But what I am talking about is the great gift of friendship.

As in real friendship.

Let me explain.

I am referring to those rare and precious individuals with whom we can be exactly who and how we are. The good, the bad and the best not shared in public! The friends with whom censoring is not required, fear of judgment is absent and the knowledge that we are loved is secure.

Within these friendships we can be authentic, real, vulnerable and honest, safe in the knowledge that our baggage, pain and mess will not be treated as a source of gossip but instead respected for the privilege that it is to be shared with another.

This gift is quite simply, worth more than gold.

For these friends offer us mask free time.

They see us.

They get us.

They love us.

They reach us.

Ultimately, they save us from the desolation of being alone.

A priceless gift.

One that no amount of money can ever buy.

In my experience such people are few and far between and it has taken me many years to sift out those who are from those who are not.

In doing so I now feel incredibly privileged to have reached a place where I have several of these very special people in my life.

They have become, quite simply, my family.

Such a precious, precious gift.

The challenge of course, is to find the time and space to actually be with each other. To actually sit in one another’s company to share in and celebrate the victories, to cry and commiserate on the losses and to rant and rage about the injustices.

There is nothing greater than to spend time in the presence of another where both can be seen and valued just as they are. A friendship based on mutuality. One that understands that sometimes I am in a good place and you are not, sometimes you are and I am not, sometimes we both are and sometimes we both are not. Yet always, there is the freedom to be just as we are.

No pretence.

No hiding.

No masks.

Just raw, honest, messy and beautiful, reality.

A reality that is shared.

It is my experience that through these friendships, any kind of pain can be borne.

These friendships are not a given. They don’t just happen. They are something that when found, must be nurtured, protected, invested in and valued.

Nothing can compare.

In our fast paced, achievement and materialism obsessed culture, it is often time for these relationships that suffers. Subsequently, the increased sense of aloneness adversely impacts our individual and collective mental health.

We must learn to recognise that the gift of time spent with those who truly see us and are seen by us, is one of the greatest gifts we can ever give or receive.

It is sacred.

And, I believe, a gift from God Himself.

For, it is true that only God can be God, but it is equally true that we experience Him and His love through the love of our fellow humans.

I was listening to a sermon just last week on what it is to ‘care for one another’. Not superficially. But in the real sense of actually being there for each other not just for the good times but for all times. And a term was introduced which I had not heard before.

It was … ‘co-pain’.

A French word for one who bears our pain with us.

I love that. It’s the greatest gift we can offer another, to be with them in their pain. Not try to fix it, or to take responsibility for it, thus disempowering them, or to speak false platitudes about it, but just to be with them in it. To offer your presence, your attention, your care, your very you-ness.

What a gift.

It is the most important thing we can recognise or invest in to sustain any kind of quality of life. For without an emotional connection to others, something in us dies. We need the spark of the connection to enliven and sustain us, for we live and learn, hurt and heal within relationship.

I was asked recently what it is that humans want most. As an off the cuff reply, I heard myself respond, ‘to be seen, known and loved as we are’.

Isn’t that a universal human longing?

Isn’t it from a place of being loved, that the desire to be all that we can be, flows out from us in to the world around us?

As I look back upon this year, I see that I have continually found myself deep in the wells of grief for the loss of the person who saw me and gave me a mother’s love. At times, it felt like I would never find my way back up or out of the grief.

Yet again and again, these special individuals have met me in that place and helped me to climb back out on the steps of their love.

Wow!

I am immensely grateful for each and every one of them and I make a point of telling them so. I will also endeavour to continue making time and space to be with them.

So, whilst it is true that I have lost the love of a mother this year and that the pain of that continues, it is equally true that I have gained a whole new awareness of the love of those friends who are true sisters.

What richer gift could I realise, receive or give, as we approach Christmas.

A room with no view …

Here I am again.

Answering the call of the coast. I’ve lasted almost two months but it was time to return to the sea. A trip to break up the post summer, pre Christmas stretch.

I’ve got in to the habit of returning to the same places throughout this year that I discovered throughout last year. I couldn’t quite muster the required energy to explore new territory before now.

But this time, I decided to go for it. Explore a new place.

Leaving at 6am on Sunday morning, I enjoyed a straight forward and quiet journey down. Apart from the worrying light on my dashboard that looked suspiciously like there was a problem with a tyre. Damn. Drove extra cautiously as a result, promising myself that I’d address it once there. Not ideal I know!

Anyway, I opted to check out another coastal resort en route to my destination. As I was greeted by a vast expanse of beach stretching on for miles, I took myself for what could only be described as a bracing walk!

Spotted some guys doing what I imagine may be called kite surfing. It looked exhilarating if totally freezing.

Happened upon a little beach front café with a comfy sofa facing the sea. Perfect for a top up of hot tea.

Walked back rather briskly in order to beat the time on the car park ticket. How I hate paying for parking! It wasn’t straight forward either. The sign next to the metre gave a number to call and a code to quote to arrange the parking fee. Yet when I called it, they didn’t recognise the code. Not even when I attempted it another two times. Aaargh! And then when I did arrive back at the car park, I couldn’t find my car! A few moments of panic later and I managed to locate it exactly where I left it, on the floor directly where I had been looking. Saved myself a potentially very embarrassing phone call to the local authority. Phew!

Arrived at my sea facing accommodation to the sight of a car parking space directly outside. Relieved.

Checked in to the Hotel and immediately checked out my room. Old fashioned, dark wood furniture, autumnally coloured window drapes and a surprisingly modern en suite. But alas, whilst the window was tall to match the high ceiling, it also had absolutely no view. All I could see was what looked and smelt like some equipment to do with the extractor for the kitchen, to the left and a wall to the right. If I looked right to the top, I could see a tiny expanse of sky. Disappointing. The bathroom window was even worse with the necessary non see through bathroom style windows.

For someone who loves to be outside, not being able to at least see the great outdoors was utterly dismal.

Not to be deterred, I left the light deprived nature of the room to investigate the nearby harbour and town.

Had a little browse around a charity shop where I treated myself to a pack of three rather attractive pairs of new socks. I’m sick of seeing the worn out unmatching offerings that are usually adorning my feet.

Further explorations led me to discover a wonderful little place to satisfy my craving for a roast chicken dinner with all the trimmings. It totally delivered.

Once I’d got a newspaper, I took a slow meander back to the room for the evening as my early start was catching up with me.

The next day I enjoyed the luxury of getting up at a leisurely alarm free pace to wander down to the sea front establishments.

Found a suitable seat with a proper view from which to enjoy the mandatory cooked breakfast whilst reading Sunday’s leftover magazines.

It was so utterly relaxing, aided by the nearby presence of a ‘free refill on hot drinks’ machine, that it wasn’t until two hours later that I felt the urge to get moving again.

I set off up the coast to the next coastal resort.

Rain was threatening on and off but I made it to another very acceptable sea facing café complete with a window seat to host my next pot of tea and slice of most tasty orange and chocolate cake. Just before the next down pour. More magazines. And another room with a proper view to facilitate more sea gazing time.

Eventually embarked upon the return walk where I noticed a rainbow on three separate occasions in three different places.

Here.

And here, faintly above the houses to the left.

And here too.

A hattrick of them!

Had a last coffee out overlooking the harbour before returning to my viewless accommodation for an evening of film and easy watching TV.

Awoke on day three to the sound of the rain hammering on the viewless window. Usually I’d find such a sound cosy, but in this room, it felt depressing. I needed to leave the room.

Spurred on by the wet and windy weather, I headed for the Hotel gym. Bizarrely, even the windows in here were not the type of glass you could actually look out of! Aarggh.

I followed up my work out with a pot of tea at a table overlooking the wild and dirty looking sea. Here I took the liberty of reading the Hotel newspaper. But not for long as my stomach insisted I take it out for a feed.

In this weather, the only thing to do was to sample the local award winning fish and chip shop. It was good. And certainly silenced my stomach for a bit.

Afterwhich I sought out yet another window with a proper view to accompany me for some more reading. If I can’t get out to be by the sea, I at least want a window through which to look at it!

Finally, I returned to my hotel fifteen minutes too late for a cream tea. Gutted!

My last morning dawned bright and sunny!

So, following a hearty breakfast, I set off for my journey home.

And I was delighted to be back in my beloved bungalow!

Embracing The Ouch …

It is counter intuitive right?

Because our, or at least my natural instinct, is to move away from that which hurts.

What I would like to say, especially in view of my profession, is that I’ve got this stuff nailed. But of course, this is real life and I am one of those real live, messy, imperfect humans! One that has to learn, learn and learn again, how to be with the inevitable. The ouch.

None of us like the ouch.

Yet to refuse it, is to allow it to cause a whole heap more ouch’s until we turn to face it.

I experience this again and again with the ouch of grief.

Every time a new wave knocks me to the ground, I just want to dust myself down and return to normal duty’s as if it didn’t and it doesn’t, hurt.

Like most of the human population, I don’t want to register the pain because I don’t like feeling pain and I do like not feeling pain!

So every time, I have to re-learn all over again, that the only way to live with the ouch that accompanies grief, is by acknowledging its presence and effect and responding with compassion rather than frustration.

Yet my first instinct is still to fight it. I want to ‘win’. By winning I mean, I want to be ok and not let the grief leave me feeling not ok.

But, it is only when I can own, accept and embrace my ouch inducing not ok, that I begin to become a little more ok!

It’s a paradox.

One that is eased when I am reminded that it is ok to acknowledge my grief. I can then relax and stop fighting it. I remember that this does not mean that I am failing, it is not a sign of weakness, it does not mean that I am wallowing, or that I will feel miserable for ever more. It simply means that the grief needs some care and attention.

I’ve had a few reminders of this recently.

I arrived at my house group the other week to discover that we were watching a Nooma DVD (short Rob Bell film on a life theme), called Matthew. None of us knew what it was about. But it turned out to be on death, grief and the importance of making time and space to allow WHATEVER thoughts and feelings need to come out. It wasn’t talking about just allowing the nice/positive/good/acceptable/Christian thoughts and feelings but ALL the feelings, especially the ugly and unwanted ones.

It was a timely reminder.

And it came only two short days after a colleague had reminded me of exactly the same thing about making time and space to allow grief. Not banishing it. Not distracting away from it. But actively inviting it to come and take up its rightful place within my being and my day.

Both of these served to remind me that I do not need to FEAR my grief or any of the feelings that accompany it.

What I do need is to keep practising over and over again what it is to recognise, allow, value, respect, accommodate, trust, welcome and tend to my grief.

As in every time it arises.

Because I have noticed that whenever I finally stop fighting and say to myself, ‘Ok, you feel miserable/angry/resentful/whatever and you are allowed to feel that, just be with it’, it begins to dissipate.

And when I remember to go easy on myself and change down a gear, life becomes so much easier to manage.

I’ve been reflecting on this recently whilst out on my bike. I’ve taken to cycling to work once a week. It allows me to incorporate a bit of physical activity with time out in the fresh air amongst what is otherwise a day spent sat on my backside, inside. I like it. The cycling that is.

Anyway, as I was huffing and puffing my way up a hill recently, repeatedly changing in to lower gears, it occurred to me that this is like life. As in, when things get difficult, or the pressure is on, or we have an unexpectedly high work load, or we are simply dealing with emotional stuff, we, read I, can sometimes expect myself to just keep travelling in exactly the same gear at exactly the same speed.

How ridiculous.

If I don’t even do this to myself on the bike, why do it to myself in life.

What I really need of course is to change down a gear, slow down, make allowance for the new situation and reduce my expectations accordingly. In other words, to partner with myself to be able to keep going but at a realistic pace, rather than setting myself up to fail by attempting to continue in the same gear and at the same pace.

Sigh.

No matter how much I think I know this stuff, I still have to learn afresh every time the new wave hits. Ugh! I wish I was a faster learner!

But, there is another side to facing death, grief and the accompanying ouch. For if we can face it front on, it can urge us to complete an ongoing reassessment of life. What is important and what is not. What gets squeezed out or constantly postponed and what am I going to do about it.

As a result, one of the steps I have taken is to book my return flight to New Zealand. The place where the family I lived with and the beauty and culture of the land was so significantly life changing and healing. It was here that I entered in to a relationship with the living God. Life has never been the same again. Thankfully.

But, it has been a whole decade now since I’ve managed to return. Afterall, NZ is a long way to go and it is expensive. Legitimate reasons right? But this year, when asked to go, I didn’t hesitate. No more delaying what is important.

None of us can guarantee how long our future will be or how much time lay ahead to see the places or people we love. And so, I booked my ticket. Not for next year or the year after or in another decades’ time. I don’t want another single year to pass without doing this so important thing.

Nothing will be the same of course. All will have changed in the past decade. The people, the place and of course me. But I need to go. And I want to go. So I am going.

A few months after booking said flight the tax man very kindly granted me a generous tax rebate to fund my trip. Result! The plus side of my reduced capacity to work and thus to earn this year!

Whilst discussing this NZ trip with my supervisor, who was able to own and express their envy (!), they shared with me how a friend of theirs who was rather wealthy, had always had a dream to go to a particular country. They put it off and put it off until the unspeakable happened. They got a terminal diagnosis and were in too poor health to go. Whilst this friend was looking head long in to the face of death with no choice to go back and do the things they had wished to do, they urged my supervisor not to make the same mistake.

Wise words.

Ones we would do well to heed whilst we still can.

It is all too easy to busy and distract ourselves from anything unpleasant for the entire duration of our lives only to arrive at the shores of death to realise that we never quite got around to doing what we really wanted.

I don’t want that.

No matter how short or long, how painful or how unpredictable this thing called life is, or how utterly awful the death of someone I love is, I still want to try and of course at times fail, to look both life and death square in the eye. I want not just to see the ugliness of pain, suffering and premature death but also to see the great beauty that life still offers.

I don’t want to miss what is possible because of what is not. And if I have to slow down again and again and again to allow more healing to happen to facilitate the longer-term goals and desires, then that is ok. (Sometimes!).

I don’t want to drift through life and in to death. Instead I choose to proactively engage, embrace and take steps towards that which is important. Even when this means slowing down AGAIN to allow for more healing.

At least I’m trying to.

What is it that YOU have delayed and postponed and not made the time or space to make happen in your life?

Time is limited.

For us all.

Make it count.

Grief Revisited …

Grief never really goes away but sometimes it feels closer than others. And these past few weeks have been and continue to be one of those times when its presence is unavoidable. And perhaps that is it, I’ve been avoiding it, happily whiling away the summer immersed in the wonders of denial. I don’t know. But what I do know is it has hit me again with full force. And it hurts. A lot.

First off it got triggered through a seemingly innocent Pixar film. ‘Brave’, in case you were wondering. So much rich material around the mother/daughter relationship, much of which reminded me of the lessons and gifts that Margaret gave me in her mothering of me. By the end of the film, I was sobbing. A good healthy release I thought.

But it continued to simmer beneath the surface for a few weeks. And then an unexpected encounter with the sister who looks so like Margaret, left me totally floored. KO’d they call it in Boxing terms. And it was only the count down on the alarm and the call of my responsibility’s that dragged me back up to face it all again.

I just wasn’t prepared to be knocked clean out by the weight of the grief again. Not that I’m sure we can ever really be prepared. And if we could, perhaps we would simply duck out of its way.

But when these grief phases hit me, those individuals who have been there and just get it, become TOTALLY invaluable. Because grief is painful and lonely enough without being surrounded by people who don’t get it. So when you find those who do, talk to them!

Because grief isn’t something we simply ‘deal with’ or ‘get shot of’.

Grief is something that comes to us and we have to walk it through, feeling it, until it dissipates again. Not that it ever goes away entirely. But it does move out of the foreground at times. At least, that is my experience.

And herein lay one of the difficulties in understanding mental and emotional health.

We live in an age of the instant. Most things can be accessed in an instant.

We want something.

We get it.

Now.

No waiting.

Whether it’s the latest box set online, a car on credit or any other stuff.

No one wants to wait for anything anymore.

We want stuff. And we want it now. Even if we have to work so many hours that we pay with the quality of our life/health.

But when it comes to our health, we can’t have things in an instant. We have to wait. We can’t simply buy our health to be as we want it to be. We have to engage with the process of healing. Even if you can afford to skip some queues by going private. And this process takes time and it brings frustration and a whole bunch of other usually unwanted feelings.

It’s how it is.

There is no other way.

Sure, we can get meds to take away this or take away that but even they come at a cost of side effects.

Health is one of the few areas where no matter how much money we have or how hard we pray, we still have to walk the path of healing and growth. (And ultimately, the path of deterioration in to death!)

There is no short cut for healing.

No quick fix.

No miracle pill.

Or even prayer.

It’s just hard.

And any denial or glossing over of that fact, makes it harder.

Unfortunately, our culture just wants to pay or pray to get rid of anything it doesn’t want to feel. And this applies as much to a broken limb as to a broken heart.

We want it better and we want it better now. And we’re willing to pay.

But there are no instant magical cures.

The human body and soul can break. And when they do, they need time and care to heal. No amount of money can pay to fast track this.

We don’t like this. We want the meds to spare us or God to heal us in an instant. And when these don’t happen, we often just don’t know what to do with ourselves and our frustrations, disappointments, resentments and plain sorrows.

We haven’t learned. We want health given to us on a plate. We don’t want to engage with a process that can evoke more pain, to reach the place of healing.

We don’t like it.

And I am no exception.

I don’t like feeling full of sorrow. I don’t like the emotional fatigue that accompanies it. I don’t like the loss of energy. And I don’t like not knowing how long it will last.

I just don’t like it. In fact, I totally ****** hate it. (And of the course the anger part of grief is SO socially unacceptable!). I Understand it. But that doesn’t afford me a fast pass through it.

However, I am learning not to waste my currently diminished energy reserves on fighting the process. Some of the time!

If I feel crap, I cut myself some slack. Mostly! I let myself off the hook a bit. I pull back. I say no. I take any self imposed pressure off. I tend to myself in the way that I need. Just as I might encourage another to do.

Because sometimes, this business of being a human can really hurt.

And what none of us need when we’re hurting is to put ourselves under unnecessary pressure. Sure, life doesn’t stop for any of us. But we can look at our loads realistically and decide what can wait.

We can in short, look after ourselves with compassion and understanding rather than impatience and condemnation.

I’ve experienced a lot of sorrow these past weeks and I continue to do so. I’ve also heard about a lot from others. From friends. From neighbours; a suicide at the train station. And from a film, A Star is Born. Beautiful but devastating and topical.

Death.

Grief.

Loss.

Endings.

Disappointments.

Life.

Sometimes it just hurts.

Pretending this is not so is more damaging than finding the courage to face it.

We all love instant gratification.

But we seldom grow through it. Anything worthwhile having, especially our health, takes time. Time to nurture and care for and time to heal when it gets damaged, hurt or broken in some way.

We don’t get to choose how long the process will take. We get to choose only how we will treat ourselves whilst going through it.

Patience, compassion and a capacity to recognise the presence of God, are absolutely key.

On being strong …

I feel compelled to write about the idealised notion of being strong. Of course, it is not possible to write about being strong without also writing about being weak, for these are opposing sides of the same coin.

As in, the coin of humanity.

Us.

You.

And me.

In recent weeks, I keep hearing people talk about their ‘need to be strong’.

This is classic black and white, either/or, thinking in terms of absolutes. Either I am strong or I am weak, with little awareness much less acceptance that we are all a combination of strength and weakness. This is what makes us whole.

Let me explain.

There is a culturally driven, not always conscious idea that being strong is the only acceptable mode for any human to admit to. This means that people fall in to the black and white trap of thinking if you are not strong, you must be weak. A seemingly unacceptable mode to admit to.

But here’s the thing.

No human is only strong, all the time, in every way. Except perhaps, the exceptionally deluded. This means that in real terms, we all have strengths and we all have weaknesses. Most would agree to this in intellectual or theoretical terms but when it comes to real felt sense terms, most of us struggle to admit to needing help, feeling vulnerable or simply not being on our game, for fear that this makes us WEAK.

As weak is a mode that our culture has indoctrinated us to instinctively deny experiencing, we may consequently engage in all manner of cover up ops to conceal our perceived weakness.

If we think about it, this is really rather animalistic. For it is animals that conceal their weakness in order to avoid becoming a target for a stronger prey.

Do us humans, who pride ourselves on our ability to reason as differentiating us from the animal kingdom, really treat each other no differently from how animals operate. As in, the strong attack the weak? Yes, there is of course truth in this.

Whilst we can all be guilty of using our power and our privilege without conscious examination, there will always be those who intentionally capitalise on the weakness of others. Yet this is not a reason to disown or deny our weaknesses, but a need to discern those worthy of sharing them with.

This makes our desire to be seen as strong rather than weak, or both, an expression of preservation as well as at times, of pride.

Yet when we go a little deeper we have to acknowledge that as humans it is only by owning our strength AND our weakness, that we can become whole.

No one is strong at all times.

We all have our weaknesses.

There may be academic weaknesses. For example, my brain does not appear to be wired to understand anything relating to the scientific. This is a natural weakness which I could work excessively hard to improve but for which I have naught desire to do so as it bores me rigid. I accept this reality about myself.

However, where things get more complicated is when we associate weakness with being emotional or simply feeling anything other than our culture’s constant push for us all to promote 24 hour positivity.

And therefore, I regularly hear people telling me that they can’t allow their own sadness/frustration/resentment/disappointment/anger to come forth because to do so would make them feel WEAK.

According to popular opinion, being happy and positive all the time is a sign of strength. A notion that can be perpetuated in the Church. Which always leaves me wondering why no one thought to tell Jesus this during his times of anger, sadness or of course, his most monumental moment upon that cross.

Consider too the moment where Jesus see’s Marys distress over the death of Lazarus. He wept. Now imagine one of our present day English Christians telling him in no uncertain terms to, ‘get a grip, pull your socks up, life goes on/children in Africa are starving (to the PC crew, I am not denying nor belittling this reality, simply highlighting that one form of suffering does not cancel out another), you just have to be strong, there is no point crying over spilt milk, MAN UP, grow a pair, don’t you know you are the son of God/God, that is in the past, don’t you know how this story turns out’, or any other manner of popular – DON’T SHOW EMOTION IN FRONT OF ME BECAUSE I CAN’T EVEN COPE WITH MY OWN, type of responses.

Imagine that!!

I know, at least I would like to think, that no one would say such things to God Almighty.

Why is it then, I wonder, that these are considered completely acceptable to be rolled out repeatedly to the people we claim to care about, during their most vulnerable moments when they are struggling with the most painful emotions?

We must examine this for we cannot support or hope to heal the parts of us that feel weak because they hurt in some way, by hiding them behind pretend strength. That is just a total waste of energy, at a time when energy may already be in short supply.

Admitting that we get hurt and subsequently feel upset confirms our own humanity. Without which, we can only hope to become a cold, hard, shell of a human/nation.

It is time to out this ridiculous notion of always needing to be strong. What each and every one of us really needs is people and places where we can be honest and vulnerable about the times when we feel weak because we are hurting. People who will not shut us down by re-enforcing the ‘you’ve just got to get on with it’ approach.

Sure, life does indeed go on with all its demands, expectations and responsibilities. But, this does not mean that it is not appropriate and at times mandatory to allow a little time out for the business of healing and resting.

Imagine telling someone with a broken leg to just get up and get on with it. Most people have a little more understanding and empathy than that. A broken leg needs some time for total rest before the leg has to be stretched with various exercises to develop and regain its strength and ability to function.

It really is no different with matters of the heart and soul.

There is a time to rest, a time to heal and a time to push ourselves to develop our genuine strength once more. All of which takes … time.

It is unfortunate that even here in 2018, the majority remain stuck in the delusion that a human that admits their humanity, vulnerability or struggle, is WEAK. And for some, a target for exploitation.

If only we would begin to realise that in admitting to our weaknesses as they arise, we can actually seek the selfcare and support that we need to heal and to become genuinely stronger again.

By denying our times of perceived weakness, we agree to feigning strength until something breaks.

That something being us.

We all have times where we feel weak and we need to be around others who will not judge or dismiss us but who will offer empathy and support. Without fearing that to do so is to encourage someone to ‘wallow’. Denying pain doesn’t make us strong or make the pain disappear. It just pushes it deeper and delays the process of healing as well as unnecessarily complicating the whole matter.

It tends to be those who recognise and acknowledge their own weaknesses that know how to be genuinely supportive of others. Whereas those still caught in the delusion that any confession of weakness makes them WEAK, will tend to shut down others in the same way they do to themselves. Sometimes people just don’t know how to respond in the face of pain, whether their own or others.

The bottom line is that the strongest thing any one of us can do, is to admit when we feel weak, respect this is an expression of our own humanity, respond to ourselves with compassion and ask carefully chosen others for support.

That is real strength.

The overall point is that it is not really about being strong or being weak but about being whole by being all that we are.

Indulgence or Preservation … ?

Two weeks after my birthday/holiday fortnight of fun and freedom and I’m back in to the swing of work.

I love it.

And I consider it a privilege to do it.

What I am immediately struck by since my return, is the theme of selfishness.

But what do any of us actually mean by the term ‘selfish’?

For it appears that we live in a culture that can be prone to judging those who practice any form of self-care, as being selfish.

What nonsense.

There appears to be a lot of culturally embedded, often unconscious, definitely unhelpful, life limiting ideas, that encourage us to totally overlook ourselves in favour of caring for others.

As if this is a higher path as opposed to a martyrdom who’s only achievement is to risk the health of the one practising it. For which no one benefits in the long term.

Unfortunately, a misunderstanding of scripture can further exacerbate the problem by reinforcing these ideas. For example, the scripture, ‘Love your neighbour, as yourself,’ is usually referred to with a complete omission of any acknowledgement much less understanding or application of the ‘love yourself’ part. Although the love yourself part is there in black and white equally as clear as the love your neighbour part, it is often treated as if this is not so.

This is a collective, corporate and cultural blind spot.

One that is in dire need of bringing in to focus to re-examine.

An emphasis on putting others first can obscure the need to include appropriate care for the self. It can also subtly infer that to care for the self is to be selfish or in conflict with God’s word. This despite this being an obvious example of cultural influence obstructing the view of what the scripture actually says.

The reality is that despite culture’s propensity for enforcing what are often life destroying notions, in this case of failing to appreciate the legitimacy of self-care, this subject is not just a nice idea but an absolute necessity for self-preservation. At least if wishing to sustain any capacity to care for others for any length of time.

Like many things in life this is a classic example of not being a case or either/or, but rather of both/and. As in, it is not appropriate to practise caring only for others any more than it is to appropriate to practise caring only for the self. We need to care for self and others. But, in order to continue caring for each other, we must first ensure that we are continuing to care for ourselves. Not just to be in a fit state to continue caring, but that the act of caring may continue to be an enjoyable one (in the main!).

The consequence of failing to practice appropriate on going self care is that we unwittingly create the perfect breeding grounds for stifled resentment, frustration, disappointment and anger. Inevitably at some point, these stifled, denied emotions and needs will get acted out in some way that causes more harm than acknowledging and acting upon them in the first instance.

Better to conduct an honest examination of the self before this point.

The facts are that we have all have needs. We all have thoughts and feelings. Some wanted, others not. And we all have a responsibility to ourselves and to others, to examine and respond to these appropriately. This is what self care is.

Failing to do this simply signs a warrant for bigger issues.

Something that we do of course all fall in to the trap of doing at times.

The bottom line is that caring for ourselves is no more an act of self indulgence than caring for others in an act of other indulgence. Which is not to say that there are not times where it is good and proper to indulge the self and or the other. But this is as an aspect of self care, not selfishness.

Overall, far from being selfish, caring for the self is an act of self-preservation. For when we do not take seriously or respond appropriately to our own needs for care, we limit our longevity or ability to care for others.

It is not selfish to take care of one self.

It is utter foolishness to fail to take care of the self.

The question is, what does self-care look like for each of us?

A question for which there is no one size fits all kind of an answer.

But a question that it would be a worthy investment of time and thought, to consider and implement.

And when others have something to say about the ‘selfishness’ of your commitment to practising self-care, just remember that what other people think is for them, and not you, to deal with. More often than not, those who criticise others for practising self-care are often struggling to practice sufficient self care themselves.

Trust yourself.

Make time for yourself.

Listen to your own needs.

Respond with compassion.

In short, treat yourself, as you would treat others.

Or maybe, love yourself, as your neighbour.

These are lessons that I have learned through hard experience. Lessons that I continue to learn and continue trying to apply. Without always succeeding!

Sometimes, some folk comment about the number of breaks I take. ‘you going away again are you Jo?’. ‘Yes, I am’, I reply! For it is I and I alone who understands the impact of my work and I and I alone who is responsible for applying sufficient enough self-care to ensure that I can continue not only to do what I do but to do it whole heartedly. Whether others understand or not. And so it is a responsibility that I take very seriously and I encourage others to do the same!

For the degree to which I practice self-care shapes and influences the degree and the quality of that which I can offer to others.

Self-care is ultimately about preservation, not indulgence. Although indulgence most certainly has a part to play!

What do you need to preserve yourself and thus your ability to care for self and others?

Sea & Solitude

Following an incredibly sociable birthday, I was in need of some serious solitude.

Cue, a trip to the coast.

It didn’t disappoint.

My B & B room offered a balcony with a seaview. Proper lushness!

Obviously my first stop was for cod and chips. Would have been frightfully rude not to.

Eaten under the opportunistic gaze of this fella. Who left empty beaked.

After that lot, I was in dire need of a little rest.

So I had one here.

And another there.

Before returning to my room for a rare night of TV!

Day two saw my intended walk rained off so instead I drove to a near by village to check out their Art & Craft Centre. I love those places.

Saw some great signs.

Upon my return, I took myself off to a seafront establishment where I enjoyed food for eye and soul.

Before heading off for another sea front stroll.

I just never get tired of scenes like these.

But eventually felt the call for more food. Opted for a trip to McDonalds. Easy. Or so I thought. Little did I know that it had changed somewhat in the years since I last visited! Firstly, most people were ordering from intimidating looking flashy screens. I opted for a human. Then there was the business of attempting to choose something off a menu that doesn’t stay still. Mid reading it, it changes to a different page. Aaargh.

Anyway, I eventually managed to order some chicken things. But five minutes after paying, I was still waiting (impatiently) for my human to bring me my food. As I surveyed the room, I noticed that there was an Argos style kiosk where people took their receipts up to collect their food upon their number being called. Oh! I fished my receipt back out from the bottom of my bag and hey presto, mine was ready! How times move along without me!

Anyway, day three dawned bright and hopeful looking so I set off for my eight mile walk along the coast.

I was greeted by these.

And then at one point I had stunning green countryside to my left and the calm endless mass of sea to my right. A feast in all directions.

No matter how far I walked there was more spectacular sights to see.

It was a fab walk.

Came back for a relaxing film evening before my last day where I arose for a sunrise run along the sea front. Fantastic!

Enjoyed one last cup of tea from my balcony.

A lot of time was spent walking but an equal amount was spent with my feet in their favourite position whilst my eyes and belly feasted on all that was to offer.

I left feeling full and ready for my return to work.