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.
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.
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.
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.
It turns out that all the research I
did in to which holiday to book, paid off.
With time off being so precious a chance to recharge, the last thing I want is to get it wrong and come home still tired.
But I can honestly say that where I’m
usually eager to return to my beloved bungalow, this time I’d had so much fun
that I was seriously reticent over returning to my responsibilities.
I wanted more play time.
The holiday started as soon as I
embarked upon my train to the airport.
One of the NZ family who had been visiting was getting the same train in
to town to pick up the Eurostar to Paris.
I was headed straight for Gatwick to
catch a plane.
My destination was Samos. This is a
small, yet still unspoiled Greek Island which is quite simply, stunning.
As soon as I arrived at our resort, I
was blown away by the beauty of the bay. The colour of the sea was ever
changing but always beautiful. And as water is one of my favourite things, I
was pleased to immediately sample a lovely pool at the Hotel too, just a few
short steps from the sea itself.
I was surrounded by my favourite
things; a swimming pool, the sea, the sun, great people and good food. I had
everything I needed. In fact, I didn’t set foot in a shop all week. Utter
bliss!
My greatest dilemma of a morning post
a holiday sized breakfast, was whether to set myself up at the pool or the
beach.
Divine.
The beach often won out just because
it was so utterly mesmerising simply to gaze out at. Plus the sound of the
water gently lapping at the shore was akin to a sense of God stroking my hair.
There was something SO comforting about it that I never tired of it.
Whilst I rarely sat on my lounger, on
the odd occasion I did, I promptly fell asleep!
But it didn’t happen often for the
call of the sea and all you could do on, in or by it was too delicious to
resist.
I started off with kayaking which I
seldom seem to do these days. And it was great to swim the length of the bay
and back. Such a treat for the eyeballs compared to swimming lengths in a pool!
I also joined a few others for a walk
down to another bay, this one a sandy affair.
Another day, I cycled a different
route to the same bay for another dip in the cooling waters.
And a little later in the week, I
cycled to a white chapel overlooking another secluded bay where I took yet another
dip.
One morning, I dragged myself up for
a 7am paddle boarding session. I hadn’t tried it before and have been wanting
to for some time so I thought sunrise was as good a time as any to try! I
wasn’t disappointed. The silence alone was
sacred.
Having thrown myself in to everything
on offer including the early paddle board, I’d totally worn myself out by my
mid week so I had to take a very early night!
Then after watching someone having a
windsurfing lesson, I decided this was a great opportunity for me to have a
go. So I did! Apparently I have good
core strength and balance as I was able to stand up and windsurf a little on my
first lesson. The pilates IS paying off!
In lesson two, after repeatedly falling in the sea and repeatedly clambering (unelegantly) back on to the board, I finally managed to fly across the sea for some distance before landing back in the sea’s cooling embrace. By which point, I noticed how far I’d come out and that I had no clue how to windsurf back the other way!! Fortunately, the lovely young man who had taught me swiftly appeared in a motor boat to tow me back.
After that, said youngster took myself
and another lady out on a cat (?) where I could simply laze on the side enjoying
the view and the breeze.
Such fun!!
And that was just the fun of the daytimes.
Each evening at 5.00pm and 8.45pm, I attended
dance lessons where we learned social foxtrot, the waltz, the cha-cha-cha, the rumba
and the jive.
It was just an explosion of FUN, FUN,
FUN!!
I did skive off a couple of 5pm classes
as I wanted to lounge around in the evening sunshine but otherwise I attended the
lot, learned heaps and laughed masses!
The entire experience was a treat of the
highest order.
Total fun therapy!
And now of course, it is time to plan
the next one!
This week as I listened to people, I noticed
a clear theme emerging.
It is … labels.
I’ve always had an aversion to putting
labels on humans. After all how can we possibly reduce something so complex and
beautiful as a human, to one or two words. Labels cannot ever convey the depth or wonder of
any individual being.
Yet I have also been challenged by someone
to consider that certain conditions which can be viewed as labels actually help
to inform and educate others as to what an individual lives with. This can be experienced
as incredibly helpful by individuals with certain diagnoses when it alerts others
to the challenges of said diagnosis. I can see this.
Yet what I am noticing more and more is
that we all pick up labels early on in life. They are inevitable. They appear within
families where siblings are compared against each other. They appear within peer
groups and pretty much anywhere there are humans because we are all so prone to
comparing and competing with one another rather than recognising our own value in
its own right.
Sometimes, another gives us a label and
sometimes we adopt them ourselves. Whichever
way round, these labels are usually derogatory as opposed to complimentary in nature.
My problem with labels in this respect
is that they appear to stick with some of
that hardcore superglue that renders them almost impossible to remove. These can be like those price stickers which are
SO annoying to get off.
And the issue with these labels for humans
is that they stick to our insides; our minds, hearts and souls where they continue
to influence the way that we view ourselves and consequently how much of ourselves
we are willing to acknowledge or offer to others or even life itself.
In fact, I would go as far as to say that
each derogatory label can serve as a bind or a chain that restricts and restrains
us from attempting to step out in to new areas of growth and exploration.
For example, if we are labelled as being
no good at x, y or z and an opportunity presents itself in that area, these internal
labels may whisper, ‘but you’re no good at that so there is no point in embarrassing
yourself by trying’. In this way, they act
as restraint that pulls you back or at the very least, renders you stuck or unable
to move towards said thing.
Now, of course there are things that we
are all good at and things that we are not and we need to be honest about that.
But that honesty works both ways as in not just being honest about our own limitations
but being equally honest about our own strengths.
It is important that we examine these
labels we wear because if we believe a lie about our true potential, this may prevent
us from trying things that we are actually able to achieve with the right support.
Each and every one of us is made up of
way more parts than any single label could ever hope to convey. By adopting a limiting
label, we effectively shut down the parts of ourselves that do not fit the label,
thus losing parts of ourselves and reducing our wholeness.
Hence I do not like labels for people.
They are life limiting.
They imprison us in to reduced versions
of ourselves.
And the earlier these labels are taken
inside of us, the more work is required to remove and replace them with more life
giving, accurate ideas about ourselves that allow room for growth.
And so, we must know ourselves well enough
to recognise who we really are in order to reject others misplaced notions of who
they think we are.
Knowing the truth about who you are, sets
you free from the labels that others may put on you. Not just free to know who you
are and who you are not, but free to live that truth out, unrestricted, not merely
in words but actions too.
It’s finally become warm enough to start
planting up my garden. I love this time of year when I can start growing all manner
of flowers and vegetables.
As I reflected upon this I realised that my approach to gardening has changed. My first years foray in to gardening consisted of buying the plants fully in flower.
I wanted an instant garden.
But my instant garden very quickly began
to teach me that which appears in an instant, seldom lasts. Because I discovered
pretty quickly that flowers that are bought in full bloom die off. At which point I thought that I had killed
them and would have to buy more!
Fortunately, I was educated that when you continue to look after these plants, and to remove the dead parts, in time, new flowers come through. It could otherwise have been a very expensive first summer of gardening!
I learned a lot that first year.
First off my beautiful display of
flowers was almost completely destroyed by slugs and snails. I had to learn how
to protect the new life that I was nurturing from that which was attempting to
destroy it. After trying all the eggs shell, coffee grinds, beer traps and
picking them off after dark tricks, I did resort to pellets.
I also had to learn about seasons and
cycles as well as which plants like lots of sun and or water and which don’t. There was a lot of trial and error.
But quite unexpectedly for me, right from
that first year my garden began to teach me about trust, patience, care and timing.
Especially when it looked like nothing
was happening to a plant on the surface yet when I continued to care for it, in
its own time, new flowers began to burst forth.
I began to see parallels between the plants and us humans. Even when we feel like nothing is happening outwardly or we cannot see signs of progress, when we continue to apply appropriate self care, things do happen beneath the surface. For in time, we too begin to bloom again.
Self planted in to neighbouring pot!
I do so love to watch what is happening
in my garden.
Each morning I take my cup of coffee around
the garden to survey the new life. Each new
bud or flower evokes immense pleasure!
Since that first year I’ve experimented with a bit of fruit and veg. Some of which was successful, others not.
But consistently, it has taught me about
watching and waiting.
Now, in my fourth summer of gardening,
I have noticed that although I buy a few plants that are already in bloom, I have
mostly bought little bedding plants that will take weeks of continuous care before
they show any signs of their potential beauty.
I am no longer seeking the instant garden for I am immensely enjoying the process of nurturing, watching and waiting for these plants to flower.
Because although sometimes it is great
to have something instantly, more often than not, there is more pleasure to be gained
from the process of creating and waiting!
There is a level of satisfaction and reward
within this that does not arise from the instant gratification approach.
The end result is all the more enriching for the waiting.
And the increased ability to wait does
of course go hand in hand with an increased ability to trust and to recognise and
respect timing.
I continue to enjoy all that my garden teaches me.
One of the major challenges of being
someone who is passionate about so many different things is how to focus and
distribute my energy wisely.
There are so many different things I
want and love to do.
Yet I only have a certain amount of
hours per day as well as energy per hour. And I’ve been attempting to squeeze too
much out of myself to invest in all of my passions at once.
The result of which has been that
I’ve ended up running around at a ridiculous speed without really making
serious progress on anything or even enjoying the process.
What folly!
Of course this is standard modern day
living. But I don’t want to ‘live’ at such an exhausting, unsustainable,
frantic and counterproductive pace.
It was becoming particularly
pronounced over these past few weeks where it was seriously beginning to wear
me down.
A quote I once read kept appearing in
my mind.
‘God does not assign us an overload’
– by I can’t remember who.
Hmm.
So why was I assigning me an overload?
Similarly, I kept thinking about the
scripture in the message version of Matthew 11:28-30.
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out
on religion? Come to me. Get away with
me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll
show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me – watch how I
do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or
ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and
lightly”.
I love this, especially ‘the unforced
rhythms of grace and learn to live freely and lightly!’
Yes please!
And every so often I get in the place
where I experience these things and I think yes!! I’m in the God led sweet spot
and what could be sweeter. But before I know it, I’ve veered off God’s course
again and on to my own. Striving, forcing, rushing and stressing replace
surrender, trust and being in the flow.
Sigh!
So having been partially aware of
this for some time now, I decided to examine the situation more closely.
As I waded through my confusion about
what projects to focus on, I discovered that actually, God gave me a very clear
remit back at the start of the year. On reflection, every time I had worked on
something in line with that, there was that flow. The ideas and inspiration
appeared as and when I needed them. Sure, I had to do my part and apply myself
but things flowed.
Yet every time I raced off down my
own path on to something else, there was the exhaustion and frustration of
striving and tail chasing.
Time to revise the game plan.
Again.
As in, back to what I should have
been doing in the first place.
Having parked that for which it is not
time and refocused my energy on where it should be, my sense of order has been
restored, a sense of movement re-instated and my previously AWOL peace, joy and
enthusiasm, are back in town!
Yay!
Now to try and keep them there!
Because, no matter how hard I work to
recover more space in my day, life and home, when I’m investing in things that are
not in season, my efforts become a source of frustration rather than fruit.
The nonstop activity coupled with the
nonstop bombardment of information makes for an exhausting combo. One that is particularly bad for our mental
and emotional health. I think I read somewhere that nonstop stimulation is the
equivalent physically of working out in a gym continuously.
As in, we’re just not made to have our
eyes, ears, minds and hearts continuously filled with words, pictures, noise and
general stimulation. It is quite seriously
bad for our health. At least it is for mine. The older I get the more I seek out
the sound of silence and the surroundings of the sublime so freely on offer in nature.
However, whilst I released myself from
corporate captivity along with striving for more materialistic stuff, many
moons ago, I do regularly fall in to the trap of not carving out sufficient
space to be.
I try.
I take frequent trips to the coast
because I feel like I can simply be and allow my soul to breathe there. In
fact, as I discovered courtesy of the blue lagoon a few weeks back, being by
any kind of water slows me down to a delicious and welcome standstill that allows
me to process all that is within rather than mindlessly filling myself with more
and more.
In fact I read an article last week
that my neighbour posted for me. It was titled ‘Vitamin Sea’. In it a Dr Sarah Brewer says, “Coastal zones,
in particular, benefit wellbeing. An
ocean view, for example, evokes emotions including longing and awe. Other blue
zones such as lakes and rivers have a beneficial impact on stress, blood
pressure and lifting mood…”.
It’s official!
What I have discovered through my regular
jaunts to the sea is actually backed up scientifically. Although I can’t help but think this stuff is
just good old fashioned common sense really. I’m sure I can recall reading a
similar article on what is now called forest bathing which to you and I means
walking in naturally tree clad green zones!
Of course we didn’t have to be told
these things years ago as folk naturally spent more time outside and less time
inside in front of the modern day time and health thiefs: TV, boxsets, gaming
and the internet.
Anyway, as I pondered all these
things I noticed that I was allowing the TV to command way too much of my
evening space. I was left with a sense of every piece of space being filled by
something. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I was left desperately searching for
more space.
And so, over the bank holiday, I made
a decision to reduce my time in front of the TV, I said no to a few things, I
parked a few things I wanted to do but that could wait, I stripped my
commitments right back and I gave myself the gift of time and space to simply be. No rushing, no
striving, no excess doing, no filling myself up with anything else, just an abundance
of space to be.
The result was on a parallel with
holding your breath under water for a long time and then arising to take a huge
gulp of breath. Utterly life giving!! And unexpectedly Pringle-esque. The more
I tasted that space to breath, the more I wanted!! I just couldn’t get enough of
it. And so, I’ve had regular and extended periods of simply being throughout this
week.
It has allowed me to catch up with myself
again. Instead of filling my mind and heart with more TV, internet, reading or doing,
I have consciously chosen to be still and allow myself to process what was backed
up inside me rather than hurling more in.
Novel but necessary.
It’s a bit like our physical bodies. We
can’t just throw in more and more food. We have to stop eating to allow our bodies
to digest and process what is already there, to relinquish what is not needed and
make space for the process to continue. In fact, the latest diet favourites include
fasting plans that give your body a total break from digesting food, to effectively
allow the system to re-boot.
Having created more space generally, I
also found the energy to create more physical space by tackling all those
stress inducing areas of my home that are too full. From the wardrobe to
kitchen cupboards to the shoe rack and my dvd’s. I got in to brutal mode and
removed a whole heap of stuff, resulting in much rubbish as well as a few sacks
for the charity shop.
It felt good and I felt lighter.
But as satisfying as creating more space
in the house was, it was the extra mental and emotional space that felt truly liberating.
As this last week, I have effectively made the space to allow my mind, heart and
soul to re-boot.
I think this
is an important subject because I happen to believe that my Jesus did not
endure what He did on that cross for you or I to limp along in life settling
for mere survival. And I say this as someone who did just that for the first
thirty years of my life. But I’ve since discovered that life does not have to
be with that way. Sure, the crap parcels don’t stop coming but it is possible to continue to grow, heal, learn,
laugh, cry, dance, rest and ultimately to stay ALIVE whilst living!
Whilst it
has undoubtedly taken much blood, sweat, tears, help and support to move from
where I was to where I am, I now know that such a transition is entirely
possible. Hence I want to share this
with others as I believe that moving from survival in to flourishing is on
offer to all willing to make the investment.
I’ve been
reflecting further upon this theme this week especially as various clients have
ended their counselling process and discussed how they plan to continue
implementing their learning.
The key thing
that has clearly emerged is the importance of intentionally investing time and
space in looking after ourselves. As it is all parts that make us whole, this
means we need to actively apply appropriate care to our physical, mental, emotional
and spiritual parts of ourselves. This is a non negotiable if we want to remain
as healthy as possible, let alone to flourish.
And it is
not just time to notice any part of us that may be struggling in some way and
therefore in need of extra attention, but also the time to proactively and
consistently engage in nourishing activities as well as times of stillness, to maintain
good health.
How easy it
is especially with the invisible parts of ourselves to overlook this need to
plan for, invest in and apply such thought and action to our health.
We live in a
world where we are constantly bombarded with excessive amounts of information,
much of which demands a response. Perhaps this is why we often overlook our mental
and emotional health until the physical body steps in by manifesting the
internal needs via physical symptoms which we cannot ignore.
And those of
us of a more introvert persuasion tend to need more times of stillness and
silence than our more extrovert peers. I am no exception. One of my biggest challenges is to find
sufficient times of stillness to regain energy, vision, inspiration, clarity
and direction for all the many, many things that I love to do.
Yet I know that if I want to continue to flourish, I must regularly check in with myself, be willing to stand back and survey the big picture, reassess and implement changes where necessary then trial, review, refine and repeat.
Without a
commitment to do this, I fail to notice when I have come off track or worse
still if I have become stuck going around in a circle. What I fail to notice, I fail to address.
This reminds
me of many years ago during a family outing where my dad, brother and I
ventured off along the river. When we discovered a goat along the way, we thought
it would be great to stroke it! It
didn’t agree! It promptly lowered its horns and ran at us! We ran the other way
but ended up running around in circles with the goat in hot pursuit, looking
like something out of an old Benny Hill sketch! Until finally and exhaustedly,
I realised that the goat was on a rope and we could just step outside of the
circle!
All too often, people come to see me because they haven’t yet realised they can step out of their own circles!
By failing to spend time reviewing where we are or where we are going, we can become stuck on repeat, even when it leaves us desperately miserable. We may then even fall in to the trap of indulging in destructive behaviours in an attempt to dull the pain. Here begins a deeper cycle of prolonging the very actions that are causing the pain by deadening the self to endure it.
This is NOT flourishing.
Planning in time
to check in with ourselves can save us much time and trouble in the long run.
Just as looking
after or running a house or garden or business or car, takes time, energy and money,
so too does running a human.
An investment of time on the self is probably one of the most fruitful things we can do. At least if we want to keep living, growing and flourishing. And even more so if we want to be part of supporting others to flourish too.
And that’s what
I tell folk when they remark upon how often I go away!
