The middle … – Page 13 – Reflections on the bits in between beginnings and endings.

Good grief …

Grief is a deeply personal experience.

One size does not fit all.

There is no set timeline within which to feel or not feel a particular way.

It is unpredictable in nature.

Whilst there may be similarities, no two griefs are the same.

Grief is unique to the person experiencing it; shaped and influenced by the length, depth and health of the relationship between the bereaved and the deceased.

Whilst grief is rarely spoken about openly, the reality is that it doesn’t disappear following the funeral. I’m fortunate to work within a profession that gets this. And the more people I talk to, the more I discover a whole community of people who recognise and understand the enormity and complexity of grief as an ongoing experience which impacts the whole body.

Grief is not something that we can or should rush.

There is no short cut, no glossing over, no willing it, or worse still, praying it away. Just imagine the tragedy of asking the God who gifts us with the chance to live and to love, to take away that which makes us alive, (our capacity to feel) following the death of a loved one. Wouldn’t that be the equivalent to two deaths?

The simple overriding fact is that grief is hard.

As much as I long to return to life as it was before this bereavement, I can’t. The world that I inhabited no longer exists in the way that I knew it. Or rather it is no longer inhabited by the one who made it what it was. This will take some adjusting to.

Grief is not something that I or anyone else can put a timeline on. It takes as long as it takes.

To strive against the impact of death is to prolong it, to surrender is to facilitate it. A truth we may do well to apply to life.

Yet in reality, it is hard to be with grief. Much easier to avoid or distract from it. Except this leaves us imprisoned by the very sadness that is seeking release. A deadening occurs that steals our sense of aliveness and ability to be present. The paradox is that only by being with the pain of grief can our experience of it along with our corresponding ability to reengage with life, begin to alter. And we can’t ‘be with it’ the whole time. We have to learn balance.

However, all too often within our quick fix, instant gratification, I want it now culture, we expect everything to be as we wish immediately.

In the case of grief, we may just want to feel how we used to feel. It is hard to accept that the only way to get to a new ok is by being with and walking through the not ok. And that’s not easy, quick or painless.

Grief is not a straightforward journey. And It’s not like breaking a leg where your body forces you to a total standstill. You know you need complete rest before you can begin to use and rebuild your muscles. You know that if you walk on a broken leg, by ignoring the body’s natural warning system of pain, or because you’ve fallen in to the cultural trap of ‘being strong’ or ‘keeping going no matter what’, you will probably complicate the original break and prolong the recovery period.

Yet when we sustain a wounding to the heart, matters are not quite so clear cut. We can’t see the damage for a start and us humans often like to see before we believe. And we can’t feel emotional pain in the same tangible way that we feel physical pain. It can be easier to override the body’s natural warning system by convincing ourselves that we can and should, stiff upper lip it out. Ultimately, it can be easier with grief to carry on as normal instead of making time to rest and heal.

Until that is, the body takes over for grief cannot remain hidden or ignored for long before it begins to manifest in physical issues. For there is an honesty and purity within grief that becomes stifled when suppressed. And whilst we may be able to fool ourselves and others that we are ok when we’re not, the body cannot lie. It knows when it needs time out to allow the healing process to happen and if necessary it will complain via physical symptoms that get us to stop. We ignore these warnings at our peril.

Despite being more aware of this than most outside my profession, I’m still not getting the work/life/healing balance right myself. I thought I was doing well by managing all of my responsibilities but after a week of doing so, I developed an unsettled stomach that required me to relinquish my ability to be vertical. And its grumblings conveyed a ban on the entry of more food. Always a major struggle for me. But clearly my body needed more time to process.

The overall message from my body is that I cannot continue as if nothing has happened. As I’m all too aware that unprocessed emotional pain can weaken the immune system thus leaving it susceptible to every virus, cold and flu that is inevitably doing the rounds at this time of year, I’m trying to heed my body’s warnings.

I am beginning to realise that whilst I know it is ridiculous to walk around as normal following the break of a leg, I haven’t fully appreciated the folly of continuing as usual following a bereavement.

Subsequently, I am attempting to understand what this means and looks like within my own life. A process which is quite literally shaking and challenging my ideas as to what is and what is not important. As it does so it invites me to recognise and relinquish previously held ideals.

Ultimately, I’m beginning to surrender, as in really surrender, to the process of grieving. Not on my terms or timelines but to whatever needs to happen within me in preparation for whatever new season lays ahead. Because, just as with nature, we can’t jump to the new wanted season without first allowing the existing unwanted season to do its work of change and preparation.

After death …

I’ve struggled to write following my last post. I mean, where to go after death? Death has happened to someone I love and with whom I would share all my news. This leaves a void that I cannot avoid. Yet in the mix of resuming my usual responsibilities, I find myself attempting to do just that. Trying to avoid the unavoidable void. (That’s a lot of voids!)

Death is literally everywhere. Whilst it’s not always a physical passing of someone, it appears in many guises through endings, change and loss. It is an unavoidable part of being alive. No one can avoid or dodge this reality. Including me.

Despite my past weeks’ best efforts at avoidance, I’ve heard about death within my practice, I’ve seen it in the nakedness of nature and it’s been there in the films I’ve watched; Nicholas Gift and Darkest Hour. It’s all around us. It’s part of life.

When I stop avoiding and look back, I see how the process of dying was eased for the one going through it, by the presence of those who love her, accompanying her on the journey.

I was struck through this by the reminder of the simple truth that what makes the unbearable bearable, is the love of those around you.

I reflected upon how this is not just true in the face of death but also for every trial and trauma of life. What makes the losses, the changes, the endings, the challenges, the fears, faceable, is having people around us that will simply be there with us. It doesn’t always have to be physically, but just knowing there are people around for us should we need them. This is what makes life not just bearable, but liveable.

Within my own friendships, it is those individuals who offer a place at their dinner table, or who pop in with flowers or who reassure me that I can call or come over if I want to, or who just sit with me whilst I weep, that help me to feel that I’m ok. That I can walk through this post death void. That I can bear the loss, the absence, the unfillable gap. That I can and will learn to adjust, without just avoiding or distracting. For it is these people that show me that I am loved and not alone.

I can’t help but wonder if we must wait for death, to draw closer to one another. Or whether we can apply death’s lessons to our living now.

As I reflect upon this I realise that it is death that exposes our vulnerability. It strips us of all pretence. There is no option to just be strong. No hiding place for our frailties, fragility, needs or limitations. No chance to feed our delusions of invincibility or to keep up appearances. In death, we are all released from the prison of stiff upper lipped thinking and living. For in death we are laid bare in all our vulnerable humanity, just as in birth.

In contrast, life can become one long culture driven exercise in hiding the very vulnerability that makes us human. We can learn to clothe our naked humanity in strength and self-sufficiency, blind to the truth that these characteristics can delude and divide us from our need for God and each other. We do of course need these qualities but without the balance of human weakness and interdependency, we cannot remain whole.

What if we were to admit our human vulnerabilities during the time in between birth and death? To actually acknowledge our shared human frailties in life and to support one another accordingly. For isn’t this how we truly connect with one another? Through admission and confession of our vulnerability and pain, not just our strengths and achievements?

There is a vulnerability surrounding death that can actually bring us closer together. A vulnerability that our culture dangerously dismisses as weakness, in life. But such thinking serves merely to succeed in keeping us within isolated prisons of pretence. And it is only in honesty and unity that we can all remain free to continue to heal, grow and live fully and whole heartedly irrespective of the deaths and endings that meet us along the way.

Life brings deaths, endings and pain.

Pretence about this creates barriers.

Vulnerability tears them down.

And only in vulnerability can we continue to truly meet one another in love, both in life and in death.

Let us not wait for death, to admit to the shared vulnerability of our humanity. None of us can choose how we will die but all of us can choose with whom and how we will live.

When Death Comes …

The cycles of nature teach us much about death and life

We don’t like to talk about death in our English culture.

We don’t like to talk about anything even remotely unpleasant really. Instead we adopt a mentality of, if I don’t look, see, or speak of said unpleasantness, I can simply pretend it is not so.

Yet such a passive approach falls rather majorly short in the face of the unpleasantness of death itself, with all its unflinching finality. We may not look, see or speak of the business of death openly, but when death comes to someone you love, you feel it with very fibre of your being.

And it feels …

Incomprehensible.

Surreal.

Irreversible.

Shocking.

Unbelievable.

Painful.

It stuns you in to slow motion. A daze and a haze that you haul yourself back from in order to undertake your day to day responsibilities. You can’t quite get your head around how said person can no longer be here. Yet you know that this is unarguably the case.

There is a gap. One that no one and no thing can fill.

Nor is it wise to try. And I have tried very hard with chilli peanuts and cake (not together) but food is so NOT the answer to the absence of life that death creates. Ditto alcohol/drugs/spending/suppressant of choice.

At least this is my experience. Yours may be vastly different. Or there may be some parallels. I don’t know. All I do know is that we need to talk about the difficult stuff, especially this death stuff.

Because as much as we look away,
denying our own and others decay,
death is here
and it’s here to stay.

And we need to talk about this cold, hard reality. Or rather, I know I do.

Because otherwise we risk failing to receive the fullness of the gift that life itself offers. For if death remains swept under the carpet or branded taboo or off limits, we give it the power and potential to destroy us from within. Maybe through an unspoken or unconscious fear that can paralyse us from engaging with life or risk. For some, a hardening of the heart in a misguided attempt to protect the existing pain whilst seeking to insure against more. Either option guarantees a death of sorts. The worst kind of death, the death experienced whilst still alive.

How can we ensure we don’t simply settle for a safe-chasing existence of mere survival, without facing up to the reality that death will come to us all. And in its own often unpredictable or even premature timing. We are powerless to stop it.

Yet paradoxically, by engaging with the presence of death, we can get real about the opportunities of life. We can re-evaluate in what, who, where, and for why, we want to invest our love, energy and talents. We can stop to question ourselves afresh.

What is my purpose?

What am I here for?

And what am I doing about that?

I never heard of anyone on their death bed uttering the words, ‘I’m so gutted I made the time to honestly and regularly review my life to identify where I was, where I wanted to be and what steps were required to get me from one to the other.’ Or, ‘I regret taking those risks, following my dreams, or committing my life to serving a purpose greater than myself.’ Or even, ‘if only I’d loved fewer people or held more grudges’.

And yet all too many of us ‘live’ our lives too afraid to be who we are, too cautious to pursue the dreams that arise within us again and again, too oppressed by the opinions of others, real or imagined, to actually risk releasing our own potential and to the benefit of all. Or for some, simply too set upon seeking security in the financial to risk pursuing the meaningful.

Others simply shut down their hearts, refusing to love if they’ve already lost. Whilst some engage in futile attempts to deny deaths reality by fighting the facts of ageing.

We all struggle in some way or another, consciously or unconsciously, with accepting death as a non-negotiable component of life.

Yet death is a given for all for which there is no avoidance, no escape, no get out of death free card.

I was going to write, no get out of life, alive, card. But of course, that depends upon your beliefs. Whilst many consider Heaven to be a defence against death on the part of those of us who believe, I consider a lack of belief to be a potential defence against the ultimate giver of life, by those who don’t. I’m talking here of the kind of life that is only possible following a total surrender to the only one who is able to take any of our lives from the natural to the supernatural. (Still got my L plates on here personally)

But, whatever our beliefs, it’s time to face up to the truth that death will come.

And the clock will continue to tick.

We need to wake up people.

You.

Me.

Us.

We need to live like we know that life is not an ongoing offer with no end point. It’s limited. It has an expiry date. I do. You do. We all do.

And amidst the mix of allowing space to grieve for the lost, loved one, the big question remains; what are we going to do about the reality of death?

Or more importantly, how will we allow it to influence how we engage with life?

Endings and beginnings …

It’s a whole, brand new year brimming with possibilities for new beginnings …

And yet in order to fully engage with these, it is sometimes necessary to look beyond the well-meaning intentions of new years resolutions that seldom make it in to February. Sometimes we actually need to step right back from our lives in order to really see those things that may actually be obstructing or restricting us from entering in to all that a new year has to offer.

As I reflect back on this time last year, I recall being in a distinctly difficult place. I was painfully aware that important parts of my life were not working. Yet to really allow myself to take a long, hard look at said areas, was not only painful, but also required me to act upon what I saw.

It was hard and I was afraid.

Like most of the human species, I can at times allow myself to remain in painful situations, simply because they feel safe via their familiarity or I’m just not sure what else to do.

Fear of the unknown can keep us bound to that which we know. Even when it prevents us from growth and health.

Back when I looked in to the mouth of 2017, I felt a fear borne of knowing that I could not simply repeat another year like the one before. Yet I also feared not knowing what change would bring. I needed courage and vast amounts of it in order to take the leap of faith that would release me from that which was hindering me, that I could go in search of that which could support me.

I had no guarantee at that point of what I would discover or where I would land. I simply knew that I could not remain where I was. I needed to execute some endings in order to allow for new beginnings. It was a risk. One that others didn’t necessarily understand. But stronger than the fear of others misjudgement of my motives, was the knowing that it is I and I alone who is responsible for doing what I know to be right, even when it scares me.

But before I took that leap, I did a review of those who did see and who did understand my predicament. It was then with their love and support that I was able to leave the familiar, to enter unknown territory.

Now, as I look back through 2017, I am amazed by much that has happened. It took me a full decade to fulfil my dream to become a fully trained, accredited Psychotherapist. Yet after the explorations that followed taking said leap in 2017, I began to walk in to some of those other dreams too.

And I finally found the place of encouragement and support that my soul had dared to believe existed.

Wow.

Feeling grateful to the God who calls and equips us all for the ultimate, personally designed adventure in to the unknown. A God who provides what and who we need to continue pursuing these paths. When and if He can ever get us to relinquish that life stealing ‘better the devil you know’ mentality.

Had I been too afraid to let go of that which was obstructing my pathway, 2017 would have been a mere repetition of 2016. Ditto if I hadn’t had the encouragement of those rare and precious individuals who believed in me when I struggled to believe in myself.

Looking even further back, I recognise that it was the trials of 2016 that prepared me to commit 2017 to addressing that which I had previously refused to see or address, thus allowing it to hold me back.

Now, as I face 2018, having wholly committed myself to the ongoing adventure of allowing God to guide me in to what is unknown to me, but totally known to Him, I feel ready to be released in to … I don’t know what! Yet acknowledging that I am not in control but that God is, feels like the most secure yet exciting position I could ever be in!

As I reflect, I realise that there is much that happens in our lives from year to year that we cannot predict or prevent. Yet we can always choose whether we will add to our own suffering by refusing to face the situations in our lives that are within our control and responsibility.

I needed to make a choice this time last year to see that which was painful to see, that I could disentangle myself from it, thus releasing myself in to the ongoing journey of freedom, growth and health.

Whilst I do not know what kind of years you have had recently, I do know that none of us need stay in the sort of situations that cause us pain, when it is possible for us to release ourselves.

I have been reminded in a personally, painful way this Christmas, that whilst we sometimes settle for suffering by postponing the changes we need to make, life does not go on forever. For some, life will end prematurely in 2018.

Now, none of us get another chance at doing things differently in 2017 or any earlier years. We can’t go back. We can’t undo. We can’t rewrite. But what we can do with whatever time and life each of us has remaining, is make a choice to face up to and throw off all that hinders us, that we may wholly embrace all that lays before us.

I don’t know what you need to be willing to open your eyes to see, or what action you need to take to address it, but I do know that none of us need to despair that we are stuck repeating the same year forever more. Not when there is one who is willing to help, one who doesn’t need to be banished from mind and heart simply because the season of Christmas is ending. For God Himself is just waiting for the word from you, to step in and help you to overcome whatever may be attempting to prevent you from entering in to all that 2018 has for you.

Of course, every year brings its own trials and heartaches, but we can choose not to add to these, by facing and addressing those situations that are within our responsibility to do so.

What do you need to see and address to allow you to really embrace 2018?

It’s CHRISTMAS … !

I LOVE Christmas.

I always have done and it hasn’t diminished with age. I love everything about it from the sparkly lights, to the cheddar loaded films, to the feasting and dancing of Christmas parties, to the gift choosing, the making of mince pies, the sound of carols and of course, all that wonderful food.

Why on earth do I always wait until December to enjoy the sumptuous goodness of pigs in blankets?

I just love Christmas.

But, I have a not before the 1st rule. As in, I don’t start Christmas before the 1st of December. But, once started, it continues for the entire month.

However, this year I broke my own rule, because as I was meandering around Hitchin market during the last week of November I unexpectedly stumbled across a Christmas tree stall. As in real Christmas trees. We weren’t allowed these as kids due to my mother’s aversion to mess but as I like real, living things I opt for the real McCoy every year. So when a super cute, short, fat tree caught my eye, I just knew that I had to have it. As in immediately! So I bought the car round, paid for the tree and bundled it in.

I justified my rule breaking by telling myself that I wouldn’t dress it before the 1st. However, as soon as I got home I found myself clambering up to the loft to drag down the decorations.

Later that night I couldn’t resist adding both baubles and lights to the tree. And of course, I discovered that I would need an additional plug socket to facilitate the lights. How is it that this happens every single year?

Anyway, I was delighted to discover that the tree wasn’t wonky. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, I had a run of years where I kept ending up with wonky Christmas trees, much to the amusement of one of my friends. (You know who you are!)

As I’d officially started my own Christmas season, I thought I may as well go the whole hog by baking my first batch of mince pies. I was subsequently pleased to discover courtesy of those within my house group that I have not lost my touch. Yum and yay!

And so it was that Christmas started early for me this year. I’m glad. Especially as last Christmas didn’t feel like Christmas. I had major aspects of my life that weren’t working and required addressing and as such the whole season had a pretty sombre feel to it. All the more reason as far as I’m concerned to have a double portion of Christmas cheer this year!

We can’t stop the inevitable tough seasons of trial and change but what we can do, is embrace the good ones with both hands. On the understanding, that these too shall pass!

Now, a few weeks in to my Christmas month, I’ve bought most my gifts, I’ve had my first Christmas party, I’ve bought new frocks in preparation for the next three Christmas parties and I’ve watched numerous Christmas films.

I’m always struck by the themes of these Christmas films which are often about paying attention to the wisdom of the heart and having the courage to follow it. Whilst this is exaggerated to the extreme within most of these films, they still serve to remind us of the importance of the heart as way more than an organ that pumps blood around the body.

A message that can all too easily become lost within our culture with its dogged determination to have us believe we can simply bypass our hearts by ruling ourselves with an iron mind. Which of course we can, but we are very much deluding ourselves if we imagine we can do so without cost or consequence.

Afterall, it is via our hearts that love flows.

To this end, the Christmas season has much to remind us about what really matters in life. That when we strip back all that surrounds Christmas, what we are left with is the birthday of a God who came to show us what love is. And who amongst us longs for more than to love and be loved? For is it not love that gives us the ultimate reason for living, especially through the hard times?

And of course Christmas can be an extremely difficult time for many. The constant onslaught of imagery depicting ‘perfect happy families’ can be decidedly difficult to swallow if this is far from your own experience or you’re in the midst of a season of struggle or loss. We cannot simply conjure up bonhomie on demand because we’re in December.

But, what each of us can do irrespective of whether we are relishing the run up to Christmas or counting down the days til it’s over, is to extend a little extra love to ourselves and to others. Because isn’t that what Christmas is all about?

The Ultimate Helping Hand …

I’ve noticed recently just how many times people talk of their desire for guidance with whatever trials they are facing. It’s like, no matter how old we get or how many responsibilities we carry, we all just yearn for help and wisdom because we know that we’re mostly just muddling through doing the best that we can, without ever really knowing whether we’re doing this adulthood thing well or not. (And who amongst us can judge?)

As I reflected upon this, I decided that irrespective of age or gender, I believe there is a universal longing deep within us all for input from a wise, guiding presence that can assist us in navigating our way through all the tough realities and ensuing decisions that we each must face. Someone who has walked the path themselves, who knows some of the pitfalls and who is able to share some of their own hard won insights. A parent perhaps. But what if we don’t have that person for whatever reason or they simply live miles away?

Sometimes I think that the realisation that we are not in control of a lot of this thing called life, can feel positively or should that read negatively, overwhelming. When we realise that we’re all just fumbling around trying to work out what to do for the best or which way to go next in life, we can at times feel paralysed by the enormity of the responsibility.

Life isn’t always easy for any of us irrespective of any privileges or restrictions we were born in to, or whatever life has subsequently thrown at us. And yet, despite these realities, we all have equal access to the only perfect parent in existence; God Himself.

We are all invited to come to the Father who is able and willing to parent, help and guide us all. The pathway to Him is not blocked by lack of social standing, overdrawn bank accounts or any kind of dodgy past activity. The elite, whoever they might be, do not have the monopoly here for the pathway to God has been cleared by Jesus Christ for each and every one of us; privileged and marginalised alike, plus all in between.

Which is one of the many, many things that I love about this God. We can’t earn/impress or buy our way in to His presence, love or help, for He simply offers it willingly and generously to all who will ask. Yes, even those of us with decidedly murky pasts. Those of us who are all too aware that we could never get connected to this God or His help by our own merit.

For the truth about this God is that He isn’t impressed by designer clothes or big houses. There is nothing wrong with those things but God isn’t fixated on external results/performance, for He is way more interested in what’s going on within us. Which means that we are all on a level playing field; both those used to being elevated to positions of superiority whether through birth or graft and those used to being trampled underfoot, often by the former.

We all have equal access to this God who is able and willing to help us not only to navigate what life throws at us but to overcome it that we may continue to discover and release our true potential, irrespective of whatever attempts to knock us off track. If only we will stop trying to do it all alone, acknowledge His presence and seek His help, for He really is the ultimate, ever present source of help.

As a God who came down here and lived amongst us within the body of Jesus Christ, He knows a thing or two about suffering (what with the Cross and all) so He has heaps of compassion for us and all that we struggle with. (He certainly didn’t suffer from stiff upper lip syndrome – he was man enough to weep in the face of others pain, so the bible tells us). And, being the creator of the entire universe, they don’t come much wiser!

As someone who didn’t enter in to a relationship with God myself until the age of thirty, one of my first thoughts upon doing so, was, why on earth didn’t someone tell me about this God sooner? Which of course they did, but I wasn’t listening!

Life looks very different for me in these post encountering Jesus days. I no longer attempt to deal with my own pain, mess or responsibilities alone because I’ve discovered and keep discovering that I don’t need to. I keep realising that God is right here, right now, watching and waiting for me to acknowledge His presence and request His help. And now that I know that He does help whether with a practical need, with guidance as to which way to go in life, wisdom for the hard decisions, courage for the scary ones, comfort for the losses, encouragement from friends or whatever it may be, I’m not willing to attempt any of it without Him. Why would I struggle in that way when I don’t need to? Been there, done that. It was messy.

He has shown me again and again that He is the only parent who is available 24/7, is totally equipped to help me with whatever I’m struggling with and who always knows how to reach me even when I’m hurting. Which doesn’t mean He gives me everything I want or ask for, but He always responds when I ask for His help, whether with the small, huge or medium sized stuff. He meets me in the midst of it all. Wowsers.

In our decidedly results driven culture, with its obsession for the external, from physical appearance to position and status, I find it wonderfully liberating and totally heart warming that God Himself is willing to reach down to each and every one of us to help us to become all that we are able to be and in doing so, to release us from the prisons of perfectionism and materialism so entrenched within our culture.

What a gift – we don’t deserve Him and we can’t buy Him yet still he offers us the ultimate invitation. In to an adventure where He provides all that we need to become all that we are capable of becoming, irrespective of all the responsibilities, trials and bills that we face. He offers to help us to find our most authentic selves and in doing so to discover our unique gift set along with a way in which to use them within this world.

So, whilst the hysteria of materialism that accompanies Christmas starts to take hold of you this season, and difficult family situations begin to arise, just remember that the God whose birthday this is all about, is just waiting for you to stop and ask for His help with whatever you are facing.

The ultimate gift awaits us all, not just for this season but for all that follow.

Go ahead, try Him, He might not do what you want, when or how you want, but He will move, often in surprising ways, if only you’ll ask.

Soul Matters

This subject is bang on my radar right now because I’m preparing a teaching on mental and emotional health. As I do so I am forced to look at the way in which our culture of ‘no feelings please we’re British’, contributes to our current mental and emotional health crisis. And on a recent trip to the west coast, I was reminded of how this can play out in my own life.

As part of my ongoing commitment to take good care of myself, at the start of this year, I made a commitment to take regular jaunts to the coast. Whether for twenty four hours or a few days, there is something about being by the sea that simply feeds my soul; the sight, the smell, the sound, the space. It stimulates my senses and brings me back to myself.

So this year, I’ve visited parts of the south, the east and now the west coast. I’ve ridden a horse on the beach, seen a seal whilst running on the beach at sun rise, I’ve swum in a wet suit and I’ve soaked up everything that comes with being by the sea. Including fish and chips and cream teas. Obviously. These times are utterly sacred gifts which I look forward to with gusto.

However, just before this latest coastal adventure, something that is happening with a significant person in my life, left me full of sadness. Subsequently my usual sense of anticipation for such a trip went AWOL. Even my first glimpse of the sea failed to elicit my usual gasp of excitement. And when I saw the masses of people in the seafront cafes, I turned and briskly walked away in search of somewhere quieter. I didn’t have the heart to put on a socially acceptable smiley face.

As the trip went on and I walked, sat and ate by the sea, I felt disgruntled by the ongoing presence of my sadness. Clearly it had not got the email that I was on holiday or read ‘the rules’ that state that sadness is not permitted during such times. Quite frankly I wanted it to do one. And I certainly didn’t want to interact with other humans that might need or expect me not to feel as I did.

But then, as I walked amidst the beauty and wonder of God’s stunning creation, something happened. I realised that it was actually me that wanted me to feel something other than what I was. I was on holiday so I thought I should feel happy.

I had unwittingly fallen in to the trap of believing the lies of our time. In this case, the lie that we should be able to simply choose what we are going to feel at any given moment, as if being on holiday should automatically elicit a response of joy, irrespective of whatever else is going on within our life.

I immediately reminded myself of that which I all too easily forget ie that if this was true I would be nothing more than a cold, hard, (British) robot, as opposed to an ordinary human being who has feelings of great sadness about the struggles faced by those I love. Instead of viewing my sadness as something to stiff upper lip away, I remembered that it was an expression of my own aliveness and capacity to care and feel.

At this point, I stopped battering myself for not striking up conversations with randoms like I usually would or for failing to bubble over with the type of joy that usually springs forth in response to the sight of the sea. Instead, I simply gave myself permission to feel my sadness. I gave it the respect it was due.

Paradoxically, no sooner had I done so when my usual sense of freedom and enjoyment began to trickle back through the gap that had previously been blocked by my staunchly British refusal to accept anything other than twenty four seven positivity.

I was reminded yet again that what we refuse to acknowledge always gets in the way of that which we desire to experience.

If you haven’t seen the film Inside Out, I would at this point totally recommend it as it offers an excellent illustration of this exact reality.

Anyway, I did enjoy the rest of my trip but it served as an excellent if painful reminder that when I feel sad, I need to acknowledge the validity of this by taking extra care of myself. What I don’t need is to attempt to will away my own humanity through sheer grit and determination.

No matter how well I think I know this stuff, with a culture that constantly feeds us the idea that we can simply pick and choose our thoughts and feelings to match the occasion, I still need constant reminders. This trip was one!

Our British culture has a lot to answer for!

So in summary, the time is long overdue for us to individually and collectively break free from these cultural chains that bind us to unrealistic, unsustainable ways of living, as if we are robots. I understand that there is much in the way of pioneering around robots at this time but let us not lose sight of what it is that makes us human, for the soul is something that cannot be duplicated or programmed on demand. It is unique, alive, precious, and worthy of being listened to, nourished and loved during its many states, both wanted and unwanted.

Soul matters …

Time well spent …?

As I reflected upon the past week, I noticed just how often the subject of time comes up in conversation. Whether through folk commenting on how fast time is going, my pastor remarking upon the lack of quiet time within our culture, or the friend enquiring as to how I manage to be involved in so much with only 24 hours in a day.

I decided to take a look at my diary where upon I could not help but see that it looks ridiculously full. I think the lack of physical space on the pages of my diary reflects the lack of actual space within my days. There’s just not enough space to simply be still, to breath, to reflect, or to envision new things. I try to fight it by reclaiming time here and there, but actually, I still need to make changes.

I’m all too aware that this is not just a me thing either. I constantly hear people proclaim, ‘I’m so busy’, or ‘I’m so tired’. Can we make the time to consider the correlation between the two?! Is it any wonder in our culture of ‘cramming crazy amounts in to our day’ that time appears to be going so fast? Could it be that in reality, we simply need to slow down?

What is it anyway with wearing our over busy status like some kind of badge of honour?

Why are we so busy?

Why are we constantly filling our time and what with?

What would happen if we didn’t?

What if we allowed unscheduled space?

And yes I know, we all have responsibilities in life. Anyone with a family, house, garden, car or business will know, there are always things that need doing. But could we give ourselves permission to have ‘to do list’ free times? Trust me, I love a good ‘to do list’ (at least, the ticking off part) yet if I don’t get enough time without one, I start to feel stifled.

Perhaps it is time for us all to re-evaluate what exactly we are spending our time on that we can begin to make appropriate cut backs.

To this end, I’ve been aware for a while now that I need to go through my diary. Yet I haven’t actually allocated the time to do this. Which means that I am guaranteed to simply repeat that which I am already doing with my time, despite having established that it is not entirely working.

And that’s the thing right there, that which we do not schedule time to do, shall remain undone.

As I reflected upon the allocation of my time, I realised that I’ll sit down (albeit begrudgingly) to go through my finances to check how I’m spending my money. Yet I don’t do the same when it comes to how I’m spending my time.

Isn’t time way more precious than money?

After all, we can earn more money. Yet no amount of money can ever buy us more time. Time is finite, without refund or guarantee. And none amongst us, know how much time we have left in the bank.

So how do we invest our time between God, family, friends, work, play, rest, fun, keep fit and hobbies?

What do we prioritise?

What always gets squeezed out?

Does our allocation of time reflect our values and priorities?

In our quest not to waste time, could it be that we have gone to the polar opposite extreme in trying to make it stretch too thinly? An entirely false economy.

Whilst our time is indeed precious and fleeting, what I love about it is that we are all equal in so far as we are all given twenty-four hours every day. (If we’re lucky).

Yet how we choose to spend those twenty-four hours will not only determine the difference we make to our own life, but also potentially to the lives of those around us.

A time to take stock perhaps …

Did Curiosity REALLY kill the cat?

Whilst driving home from a recent thought provoking conversation with a friend, I found my mind pondering the above.

Said friend is someone I trained with so invariably our talk turned to deeper themes like death, the role it plays in how we live and whether we are willing to do the work of making our dreams a reality. This ended with us discussing the crucial role of curiosity, along with our culture of curbing it.

Afterwards as I reflected upon our conversation, the saying, ‘Curiosity killed the cat’, came to mind. In our risk averse, fear driven culture, we can all too often use this saying to shut down anyone who dares to be curious as to whether there may be other ways of seeing, being or living, aside from those accepted by the unthinking majority as being the norm. Or worse still, as being ‘safe’. There is of course a time for being safe, but as an ethos for life, it’s more akin to settling for a psychological/spiritual death-in-life.

What particularly struck me is how readily we can throw such sayings about with little thought or exploration as to the original or intended meaning.

Yet further investigation revealed that the original saying was actually, ‘care kills the cat’, with the use of ‘care’ in this context meaning worry or sorrow. Even that’s not the full picture but if you are curious enough, google it yourself!

My issue with this saying is that curiosity can be marketed as a life-threatening condition. Despite the potential when exercised with wisdom, to be quite the opposite. For curiosity gives us permission to wonder, explore, imagine, play, envision and create, brand new ways of seeing, thinking, being and ultimately, living. It can be the birthplace of dreams, the beginning of change, the place of pioneering.

What is your curiosity calling you to explore?

I’ll end by returning to my initial question. Did curiosity really kill the cat? If so, which life, just the last or all nine? Either way, would curiosity be such a bad way for a cat to go?

As a human (mostly), death by curiosity doesn’t sound bad to me, at all. Whereas to die, or much worse to live, by apathy for example, would be truly horrendous.

My curious little bugger of a cat, who is still very much alive!

On the subject of self care …

To get myself over the start line of this BLOG, I decided to write about a subject that I’m passionate about; self care. In recognition of the fact that those of us with a propensity towards caring for others can all too often overlook caring for ourselves, I decided that this would make a worthy starting point.

After spending an hour attempting to write something profound about my work, I was frustrated to arrive at a big fat nothing. When I stopped to think, I could hear a good friend’s voice saying, ‘write about YOU Jo’.

So I started by asking myself how I was doing in relation to self-care. My authentic answer was ‘not too great’. The reason being that I am a self-confessed total introvert. By which I don’t mean that I’m incapable of socialising with other humans, but rather, that I also need time alone. Lots of it. It allows me to process, regenerate, recharge and simply be.

Failure to allow adequate portions of solo space results in the emergence of the type of short tempered, grumpy beast that even I don’t particularly like to be around. (Think Joan Collins in the Snickers Ad).

Knowing this about myself, I usually ensure my weekends have sufficient unscheduled space and time alone, whether that results in me doing something spontaneous, absolutely nothing, or even a bit of both.

However, last weekend I had a whole pile of really fabulous stuff happening ALL weekend. To clarify, I’m not referring to a weekend that I had filled by saying ‘yes’ to stuff I really wanted to say ‘no’ to. (Life is way too short for that). This was a weekend overflowing with stuff I’d said ‘yes’ to that I really wanted to say ‘yes’ to! It just happened to fill the entire weekend.

Now, I’d been apprehensive about this in advance, yet I had failed to put anything in place to address it. How easy it is to see a potential issue approaching on the horizon and to just dismiss it with ‘oh, it will be ok’.

Wrong!

To be clear, I don’t regret anything I did over the weekend as it involved ample doses of food, laughter, learning and worship. What’s not to like? I even continued to feed off the buzz of it, throughout Monday.

Yet by Monday evening, the aforementioned grumpy beast was making its presence felt. Hence on Tuesday when I sat down to write about self-care, I realised that I could not write about something that I was not practising at that time!

I thought, ok, I get it, I need solo time. I decided immediately that as I don’t practice on a Wednesday, I would have an entirely work free day to give myself the solo space that I so desperately needed.

Of course, I heard all the reasons why I ‘shouldn’t’. It was mid-week, as in ‘work time’ so I ‘should’ be working, I had things that ‘needed’ to be done, I’d be letting down the person I would need to cancel (who I know, knows me well enough to not take it personally), blah blah blah.

But, I made a decision on behalf of myself that if I didn’t take time out to look after me, I wouldn’t just remain beastly, but the quality of my work would suffer too.

Having given myself permission to do what I needed to take good care of myself, I felt instantly lighter. And excited about my FREE day!

When Wednesday morning arrived, I relished the luxury of awaking when my body was ready as opposed to when the alarm demanded. A rare treat indeed given that my body usually awakes way before the alarm these days anyway. Is this just a post 40 female thing?

Anyway, upon registering my re-entry to consciousness, the cat promptly gave me his, ‘please get up and feed me NOW’ nudge.

Whilst doing so, I grabbed the milk from the fridge and switched the coffee machine on (how do people ever get up without these?). The large bag of apples that a friend had given me from her tree were sat inside the fridge screaming ‘USE US’ or ‘LOSE US’.

So, as I’m going through an ‘I don’t want to eat muesli for breakfast every day’ phase, I went online to explore my apple filled options. I discovered a recipe that inspired me to instantly get my baking gear out. It was called Glorious Apple Muffins. I was sold. Once made, I took one, still warm, along with a cup of tea, back to bed. (The coffee was long gone).

Best served warm, accompanied by hot tea, consumed whilst wearing PJ’s, lounging in bed.

As I revelled in the delight of my home baked breakfast, eaten whilst lounging in bed at what was by this time 10am, I could literallly feel my self-care tank refilling. Wonderful!

Having given myself the gift of free time, I became aware that the motivation and inclination that had previously eluded me were now very much present and willing to help me tackle my wardrobe.

I took full advantage by swiftly setting about the removal of all clothes spring/summer followed by the retrieval of all autumn/winter clothes. And this a job I’ve been avoiding ever since it’s been cold enough to relearn how to work the heating! I even managed to be brutal enough to fill three bags worth of clothes for the charity shop. Out with the old, room for the new! I was on a roll!

Feeling decidedly chuffed with my efforts, I drove to Letchworth to spend some birthday money on new toys for the kitchen. A slow cooker being one, in case you were wondering. I am SO in to creating in the kitchen right now.

After this, I took myself for an afternoon showing of Victoria and Abdul. It always feels delightfully decadent to watch a film during the afternoon on a ‘work day’. And whilst I didn’t enjoy the film as much as I had hoped, Dame Judy Dench didn’t disappoint.

Anyway, I finished my day with homemade soup; spiced carrot and red lentil, from the freezer thus giving me the night off cooking. And then my new but beloved Pilates class.

Lastly, I attended a life group, which involved a short DVD followed by interesting and thought-provoking discussions, prayer, tea and biscuits (the chocolate variety, not rich tea’s).

A totally top-notch day spent indulging in activities that I find utterly revitalising. Which meant, when I sat down to write today (Thursday), I was ready and willing to do so.

The beast has, for now at least, been satisfied. And I’ve made a note to myself to go through my diary and ensure I keep sufficient solo space for the foreseeable future, so that it stays that way.

What do you need to do, to take care of you?