In terrential rain my plane took off from Newcastle airport on Saturday morning, the rain streaming down the windows as it taxied along the tarmac
As it took off, yes there was a tiny bit of extra turbulance through the low lying cloud
The cloud become whiter and whiter as the plane ascended
The windows in got brighter, the light shine Above the clouds, blue, bright sky.
White clouds
Rain is about perspective
Pain is about perspective
Shame is about perspective
Seeing rain from above, changes things
Rain can’t be avoided but can be pushed through, to see what’s above, to see rain from a distance
Like rain and clouds, I am not pain, or shame, or emotions,
I..just..am
I am the watcher , I am the life that can make new things happen, I am life that can be compassionate towards myself I am the watcher than can see.
In the continued path of self compassion the flight gave me to opportunity to sense and feel the wonder of the universe, clouds from a different perspective. May
May I feel the joy and wonder of the universe, may I choose to love myself in the midst, in the clouds and above the rain and storms. May I experience the deep joy and gratitude of being myself.
I have been amazed by the universe treasure moments that seem to arrive to me, chance encounters, free gifts in shops, writing in books that match what I’d been talking about the day before (no algorithms there)
This was one yesterday.
I’d bought this John o Donohue book in a charity shop about six weeks ago, one of about 10 books I bought that day, this one went on the bottom shelf hidden away.
Reading prayers and blessings not always my thing.
Yesterday I had a tidy of my books, getting rid of 10 to the local charity shop, and re-found the John o Donohue…
I opened the book, randomly
To this page
What did I write about the day before yesterday?
Exactly
May I be a friend to myself.
This path of self compassion seems littered with treasure.
I am a mystery, waiting to be loved….as are you
May you and I journey to that place in your soul where there is love and warmth and feeling.
If you’ve read my last two piece of writing in the last few days you will know that I have shared a little about self compassion, and in particular showing self compassion for my self critical nature.
It would be very tempting for to try and understand the roots of my self critical nature – and that’s exactly what my ‘little professor’ adult thinking self wants to do. Understand.
I could spend a few hours or days on working all this out. To be honest, if you’ve read my story (in the menu above) it wouldn’t be difficult to assess. Safe to say childhood wasn’t a place of praise, support or encouragement (that would lead to big headedness), it wasn’t a place to relax and feel gratitude, but a place of revolving around the needs of the dominant emotionally immature parent (s).
I learned to rely on myself intellectually, and go ‘into’ my head.
Im writing more now on this than I actually was going to. So ill stop.
Because in a real way, understanding the root, has been done already.
I dont need to go back, not this time. Not again.
Im not here to blame.
Ive resisted the urge today, this week to blame, and go back.
Instead.
Ive stayed in the present. Today.
Because self compassion, isn’t about understanding and trying to work it out
Self compassion is being a friend to myself now.
Tending, loving and being gentle with myself now.
Resisting the head knowledge of the root of my critical nature
Instead sitting in the power of the present.
So ive written a whole lot more today, that you won’t see, but that’s for me, tender to myself, friend to myself, loving myself.
Feeling the space around my heart, body and soul for love to be encountered
Warmth of self love, listening to the slow breath
Giving myself respect and reverence. Time and space.
Telling myself that I am enough, that I can relax as myself
I dont need to perform, not even now
Just be, who I am, and not strive for something else.
Not have to prove something. Not have to meet expectations
Embrace the feeling of warmth, resting in the infilling
I dont need to know where it comes from – it was what I needed to do to survive, and that in itself is to be thankful and warm towards.
But now, I can rest, in myself, as I am.
In her chapter on Self Compassion for the Self critical (which ive read, felt and embraced its power four times this week) Radhule Weininger writes:
‘Often as you open your heart, feelings of kindness, compassion, forgiveness and generosity well up naturally and flow outward in widening circles…
Your habit of self depreciation and self reproach can be healed by daring to look inwards and holding your inner experience with understanding, gentleness and care’
Heartwork (2017)
I need not be self investigative, but self therapeutic, giving unconditional positive regard for myself.
Being a friend to myself. What does that feel like?
Being a friend to the present.. here and now
Unlearning the critical learned part, lifting it with warmth
Being at peace with myself
Show up to myself.
Practicing all of these things, day by day, experience by experience, situation by situation. A self compassion path isn’t one towards perfection, but wholeness.
After writing yesterdays piece on Self Compassion, I have spent time today reflecting, meditating and feeling through the following quotes. I share them here:
You can’t have compassion unless you’re first willing to feel what you feel
John Welwood : Between Heaven and Earth, principles of Inner work – in Weininger ‘Heartwork’ The path of Self compassion – 2017
When a deep, honest conversation, makes us feel connected to someone, we become very happy.
The same deep connection with ourselves is possible by wholly accepting who we are and realising the enlightened nature of ourselves
This too is a source of incomparable happiness and freedom.
Haemin Sunim, Things we only notice when we slow down, 2017
The Ultimate truth of who you are is not I am this or I am that – But I Am
Eckhart Tolle, Oneness with all life (2008)
On another occasion I may write more about the path of self compassion and what I am discovering through it. One thing, is the sense of warmth and peace I feel afterwards, and feeling stronger though openness to myself , feeling and then comforting the rawness of the areas of my life that require self tenderness and gentleness. I sense that self compassion is a gateway to deep soul strength.
But now I will be a friend to myself, as keep this a short one today. It has been a restoring day.
Closing with these words from The Dalai Lama:
Compassion and love can be defined as the positive thoughts and feelings that give rise to such essential things in life as hope, courage, determination and inner strength
Thank you for all the supportive comments, likes and shares from my writing and self learning. I appreciate you.
Last night I was planning to write something. I also thought I might do some reading too, the latter being one of my favourite evening activities, put the music on, light the wax candles, pick up a book and sit and read
But I was just weirdly unsettled.
Oh, and the other thing, is that since early October I have been without my laptop to do this kind of writing. I have written quite a bit in my personal journals, free writing, sometimes crayon scrawling and inner James work, but not this kind, the blog writing stuff. What this has done in a month is store up in my mind a number of themes, ideas, pictures that I may want to write about, they are stored, I thought one would download fairly successfully into one yesterday.
But it didnt.
I tried picking up all the books I’ve read in the last 6 weeks and before, where the corners are folded, the pages and phrases that have inspired. I even checked my drafts folder. Ive read some wonderful books in the last 6 weeks too, Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth and Oneness with all of life, Matt Haigs How to stop Time, The Pilgrimage by Paulo Coelho and Brene Brown’s Daring Greatly. All wonderful books. Loved them all.
But Nothing. Nothing Downloaded.
Nothing felt like it was flowing from the mind, to the fingers.
And I got frustrated.
I felt like I wasted an evening
I was annoyed at myself.
I wasn’t productive.
I shouldn’t have felt that way, I was trying to do something, but felt unsettled. There wasn’t clarity or flow.
How did I react to my self imposed circumstance. Annoyed. Frustrated.
I had self expectations.
I ended up with self learning.
I stopped.
I was critical of myself and gave myself a beating up, over something that was of my own choice.
I tend to do this often.
Beat myself up.
Think of myself as not good enough.
Think of myself as not as creative, imaginative, talented as others.
The critical shell on my outside can turn inwards.
The over thinking mind that over dwells.
Then I felt something else….. Shame.
I felt ashamed that I felt annoyed at myself. Shame.
Embarrassed that I felt this way.
Shame made me feel small and useless temporarily for not being attentive to myself. Shame took me to the hiding place.
Even in the smallest of moments, shame attaches itself to those feelings. Not careful and I’m in a swirl.
I shouldn’t feel this way, I should be better than this, I should….
‘Should’ Shame.
So.
I Stopped.
This was my evening for 90 minutes yesterday.
Ive noticed this recently. The Shame Cycle. Actually maybe its not a cycle, more like shame is like a leech to feelings, attaching itself to them.
At this point, I could easily drown or get drawn into over thinking, self criticism, self blaming and feeling pretty low.
So what did I do?
I remembered – who I am
I noticed – my feelings of frustration, and stepped to one side of them
I breathed.
I remembered something else too.
The True Anti-dote to Shame is Self-compassion
Sneezy/Ziskind (eds) 2013 IFS – New Dimensions
It was at this moment that my wife Christelle joined me on a zoom call. I told her about my feelings of frustration, and feeling ‘not very productive’ . She also reminded me that I had been very productive, and that it was ok for me to rest, to do nothing. To sit. To just be.
Sometimes it takes someone else to help us remember.
As someone so self-critical, from my history of self blame, over responsibility and any kind of support – Self compassion is significantly difficult. Especially as I also hear the self voices that disbelieve in it, that write it off, the voices that are scared of it, its as if shame can have an internal voice that’s screaming because it knows that its about to be listened to, cared for and have warmth applied to it.
It hates that by the way.
Self love wins.
On our Honeymoon in Santa Barbara, Christelle and I went to an amazing bookstore (twice) – Paradise Found In it I could easily have spent far too much on books, and I was probably only restricted by my luggage allowance… The one book I bought was this one:
I am going to write about the different types of responses I have had the self help books.
Safe to say this one has been like a warm snuggly blanket from the beginning. I have felt safe reading it, and its softened my heart to discover a path of self compassion, for myself. I began a few weeks ago to write down privately a journal of self compassion, and where this path was going to take me, what I need to have self compassion and warmth for.
It is as if every day I get the opportunity to practice. Even when it comes to ‘just writing a blog’ .
Let me close with some words adapted from the book, that were appropriate to me yesterday.
May I have compassion on myself, for being self critical
May I have compassion on the feelings that I have
May I have compassion on myself, breathing in love, like oxygen from the air, and feel that breath flow through my body
May I have compassion on my wounded heart
May I have compassion on my overactive mind
May I give myself grace
May I be a best friend to myself and to this present moment.
May I tend to my shame feelings with warmth and gentleness
May I have compassion on myself
My words, adapted from HeartWork – The Path of Self Compassion (Radhule Weininger)
In that moment of slow. Not Self beating, but self healing and compassion. Restoring my heart and soul to its core truth, feeling and loving myself, one breath at a time. I can make a choice to love, and love myself. Shame loosens its grip, peace and love flow.
Sometimes life gives the opportunity to practice, immediately. The opportunity to note the feelings that naturally arise, and respond with self loving care.
Last night I got frustrated with myself, and it was ok.
It gave me an opportunity to show myself love and compassion.
Its about being vulnerable, and embracing discomfort
Thats what some of the books say.
Thats what’s required for life, for creativity and innovation (Brene Brown, Daring Greatly)
I get it. I want to get it.
But.
Even the first of these seems risky.
Loving myself. Loving and listening to myself.
Becoming aware of my feelings.
It was brought home to me over the last few weeks.
Its a risk.
Complex trauma, both emotional neglect and abuse, coupled with strong childhood adherence to an evangelical faith make this risky.
Too many self sacrificing defaults have been set.
Too many ‘put others first’ learned behaviours have been performed.
Too many times was it safer for me to revolve around others, my abusive mothers, needs than attend to my own – too many times soothing my abuser meant safety for me.
Too many times I heard – ‘love your neighbour’ very few times I heard ‘as yourself’ – though with the all too often shame that was associated with too much pride. Shame.
Ahh yes, that ‘S’ word.
The word you’d feel if you uttered the other S word in church.
And fear of being accused of being Selfish was the other S word. Especially at Home.
It took a risk to start to think of myself as anything, let alone something – though I sort of knew I was ok.
Self love is risky.
Knowing I can love myself – without justification
Knowing I can choose what I do with my time – can feel utterly alien and pushing through sand to feel like this is even allowed or possible
That voice. That inner critic voice. Be useful. Don’t be lazy. Stay Busy. You don’t deserve this. Surely there’s something else to do.
Its as if its waiting for that moment.
Self love can feel a risk.
A risk because it challenges so much of…well everything.. everything I once knew and had become default.
My childhood emotional needs, my identity and adaption into an evangelical christian faith (though it needn’t have been as evangelical to still have all those ‘S’ words)
Loving myself is a challenge and a risk. A risk that means looking inwards. A Risk because I dont often want to look at or be close to the painful bits, or shame bits, and feeling like I’m not able to love myself because I might be in trouble for doing so, or be told off for being selfish, or its something else.
Self love is risky because i grew up with an understanding of responsibility and fault. I believed I was to blame, and I took on responsibility, because I was projected on as being spoilt, selfish, too clever, messy, not there enough for that person, not fulfilling her needs, not able to ‘fix’ the family.
The over think everything, get lost in my thoughts, think them through, think all the options, think about what I should have done, what I didnt do, what I need to do what I am , what kind of person I was or am, think James, think, and it keeps on going, wake up with the same thinking thoughts.
I was the fixer of, and helper of others. Responsible. Over thinking.
Self love is a risk – for that voice tells me not to be selfish.
I love the writing of Dr Glenn Patrick Doyle, recently he shared this on his blog
Self love is a risk. Self love, deep self love is courageous.
It changes the pattern.
It undo’s the default.
It communicates to myself that I am important.
Its a risk. Its a risk every time.
Its a challenge every day.
Brene Brown is right. We are living in an age of scarcity. An age where love is scarce- but where products are traded as love. Loving ourselves is the risk to start turning to whats inside of ourselves as a source of love, a source of peace and joy, and give this the opportunity to shine. Self love may well be the source of the river, where it all starts.
Maybe Jesus was saying, you can only love your neighbour as you love yourself. That was the challenge set down to the lawyer who asked in the question. Can you love yourself? and in that love – will your neighbour be loved too? It wasn’t just loving a neighbour for show. Where might there be balance in the love for self and neighbour/others in the Bible – just thinking out loud…
Self love is about being brave and courageous – taking the risk and being vulnerable to myself- not just being strong and getting through it.
Self love.
Do you dare take the risk? Do you dare not too?
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I written before that being involved in church as a teenager was a ‘safe place’ for me. It was a place to develop a bit of an identity, a space to have some importance – I was a junior leader, I was in the music group, I was part of the ‘Mens group’ from 18 for about 6 months, and after then was a leader in church things, team leader on a frontline team, youth leader in a church. Church meant involvement, and from about the age of 18 it was a place for me where I had some respect, importance. It was a place where I had responsibility.
Psychologically it was the place, one of many, that as a younger child, my ‘adaptive’ child took precedence. I adapted into the adult world of the local church, was a leader, even in the youth group, and had some kind of status. This isn’t and wasn’t new by any stretch of the imagination. It happens a lot. The most significant thing for me was that it was a space where my parents left from me being around 13 years old. So it immediately became safer for me, and only their torpid residue still hung on, like tentacles of time.
My role in churches, whether youth worker, leader or in ecumenical groups or denominations was exactly what the 20-30’s me required. Churches in which I kept some emotional distance (because I was an employee in many cases) , and could be important and useful, through either a paid role or voluntary ones involving music, young people or just by being a thoughtful, critical person who could preach or lead services even now and then.
ADAPTED JAMES was in his element.
The Shield.
Wounded interior hiding behind a hard shell. Back turned.
Oh and it was so easy.
Adapt to rules, expectation and performance
What I mean is, that it was so easy for me to exist in this way.
Nothing in main could get close, because academic critical head of mine would question, criticism or cynicism it away.
By the way that’s when I know I’m not feeling safe. I can tell.
But then I could keep all the barriers up.
I could hide the wounds behind the active mind. I didn’t have to be. To be honest, I didnt know, that I wasnt ‘being’ I was just aware that I wasnt alive. Not fully.
Church was a place where I could easily hide. Keep up the appearances. Easy to keep masks on when no one else is asking that question, and if they did I would run and hide.
Hiding behind responsibility, Hiding behind intelligence, Emotions left outside, Emotions no where.
Though I wouldn’t have admitted it, at the time, I had tied myself into the expectations of the identity of ‘going to church’, and it helped me in some ways to have some parts of my ego massaged with some importance and influence, but I didnt want to get close. And for a number of years I didnt know why.
I couldn’t emotionally invest myself in church. I needed it for my sake. Aside from frustrations I had no emotion to give at times. I had a head faith. But a head full of doubts. But not a heart faith – because actually that heart was well and truly hidden. And only, only on rare occasions did anything get through – especially in a church situation.
I used to criticise people in churches for not being real and vulnerable – when that was me – I just lacked any awareness to know it.
Projection as a defence mechanism, I shudder with my own embarrassment.
What provoked all flow of thinking you might ask?
I think, actually, no, I feel and beginning to know, that part of the healing journey I have been on in the last 3-4 years has been emotional, it has also been spiritual, and this has affected how I have interacted with the formative faith of my up to 40 year old self. I would say I have had more spiritual experiences since undergoing therapy than any time before. Through times when I have felt the most broken and confused, damaged and lost and also times when I have recognised my need to love myself – and to sense the spirituality and consciousness within myself. Its a journey that has taken me to Eckhart Tolle, to Karen Armstrong, to Gary Zukav, Irvin Yalom, Paulo Coelho, Richard Rohr, Victor Frankl and Haemin Sunim, and many others, as I continually discover the universe as a spiritual being, and the spiritual being deep inside of me, and spirituality of my body – the feelings and emotions. Holding in balance a spirituality that includes myself, God, creation and the other, and not denying the very heart and soul of myself – for the sake of the other.
But what I read today was the thing to which so much of my spiritual and religious life made some sense, and for that I hand the end of this blog over the the wonderful Brene Brown.
When religious leaders leverage our fear and need for more certainty by extracting vulnerability from spirituality and turning faith into ‘compliance and consequences’ rather than teaching and modelling how to wrestle with the unknown and to embrace mystery, the entire concept of faith is bankrupt on its own terms. …
(Brene Brown, Daring Greatly) going on to say….
I needed Church and I thought church needed me.
I left my own vulnerability at the front door. It was barely on the same street to be honest.
Performance, expectation and compliance was my safe place.
I know I did this, but how common is it? What is the cost in ministry terms when vulnerability isnt culturally valued? Thats a question others can answer…
Thanks Brene, for helping me see, again, and be grateful for the journey I have been on, grateful for the churches and groups who hosted and held me, who I kept at arms length and who I ran from when I got emotionally frightened. Thank you because you didnt know, and I didnt know what kind of emotional mess and what kind of emotional trauma I was and still carry. Thank you for doing your best, well most of you.
Thank you more so for those who in more recent days have held my actual vulnerability as I have let you into the layers and I have found connection and warmth and life through this process, thank you.
Thank you Brene too, for causing me to see the extent to which I was hiding and avoiding being vulnerable.
Surprisingly Emotional Therapy has given me Spiritual Epiphanies. Learning to be vulnerable to myself, learning to uncover the hard shell and layers one by one, learning to be warm and loving to myself. To value the God within. To Value love as a feeling, myself as a human. To be. To be , from the inside out.
And it deluged the country lanes off North Yorkshire today for about 4 hours.
And it was so bad, and spectacular some people took photos of it.
So did I
But I was inside. With the other sweaty walkers who’d made it indoors – filling the cafe with a stale damp smell of wet boots and jackets.
And by three hours later the water had cascaded down the hill, and it was sunny at the top, and most of what was evident in the photo above, had dried away.
But that’s not really what I wanted to write about. I wanted to give you the first part of my afternoon.
Rain.
As I drove back I saw something far far more remarkable and precious.
28 Miles later and I have driven down the hill, over the A19 to Northallerton and making my way home.
When I’m about a mile from my house and driving in the 30mph zone and about to queue for a roundabout.
It has clearly been raining here too.
The paved ‘pavement’ with its undulating slabs and grass edges was holding pools of water, substantial ones.
And next to one of these pools was a navy blue push chair, containing a baby, the handle of the pushchair held by mum.
Standing in the pool of water on the pavement was a tiny blonde boy. Navy blue dungarees, blue trainer shoes.
Must have been about a year old, not much more.
Standing still in the water, water about as high up to the top of his soles, so, not too deep.
He was standing there as if this was the first puddle he had stood in in his entire life. Spellbound.
Not splashing the water, running in it – but just standing in it.
Feeling it.
Noting the moment.
Amazed.
Then I thought, given the lack of rain, and his age – it might well be the first time he has seen a puddle.
Seeing and feeling a puddle for the first time.
Standing amazed, raptured. That feeling.
First
Time
Puddle
And it was pure joy.
And watching it, for that split second moment – was pure joy too.
Seeing childlike curiosity and joy – was joy in itself.
Maybe that blue dressed blonde boy reminded me of someone…
Maybe it was joyful too to see how the mum was letting the boy just ‘be present’ in the puddle and feel it
It was ‘just’ a moment. But it was a ‘joy’ moment.
A moment where I saw the little boy in the arena – the little boy in the puddle – the boy risk being himself – the boy risk the reaction of others – and have this moment validated by his mum.
The boy experience the feeling of being wet. (and not just in a bath)
Its easier to watch the rain and take photos of it, and moan about it, or be bored and frustrated by it.
It was easier for me to stand on the edge of the arena and avoid the feelings, and watch as I didn’t take part in being myself in life. It wasnt easier, it was, as Brene Brown says, about numbing, shielding and hiding my vulnerabilities for the sake of survival. Watching life from the edge, disconnected.
Watching the boy in the puddle helped me realise how I started to feel.
How I needed the safety to dip my toe into the feelings – of metaphorical water.
To let myself feel
Feelings ive found can be like puddles, they can be like waves, they can be like waterfalls.
High Force – County Durham – Sept 2022
Some are pleasant, some are calm, some surprise and some feeling like a downward uncontrollable swirl, sometimes the water is warm, other times it’s cold.
I used to try and wear layers of waterproofs, heavy boots and umbrellas and lather myself in oil. Anything to avoid and protect myself from getting wet emotionally. Or stay in the warm spots of looking into and helping others with their emotions. I could understand aspects of other peoples water. But without letting my own feet get wet. Too risky.
Im on a continual journey of keeping my feet in the water. Keeping my feet in. Not afraid.
Feeling, the sand, the cold, the wet, the reaction.
Feelings like rain, like water.
Raw, naked feet and ankles.
About to feel.
The joy of the first time puddle.
The joy of feeling
And it was ok. It was ok to feel. Safe to feel.
The vulnerability of feeling for the first time.
Learning to feel
Learning to accept
Learning to be raw and naked
Learning to stand in the water
Attending to my human self, my emotional self.
The raw joy of first time puddles.
References to ‘The Arena’ are from Brene Browns book Daring Greatly – which im reading at the moment.
Have you worked out the Greatest Challenge in Life yet?
The easiest thing, is to be doing something. To be continually doing something. To be planning to be doing something is still doing something.
To be doing.
Last week I got over 40 ‘likes’ on a facebook post about something I had been ‘doing’ – 3 days of safeguarding training with the Methodist Church btw.
Doing something.
It may be physically impossible to ‘do nothing’ for an hour – our bodies have to breathe, our senses listen to the sounds from outside, or music playing, but what if being was valued more that doing?
What happens if you try and sit and ‘be’? What creeps in? – A task, a worry, a thought? A distraction – the voice that says ‘ you should be doing something’ ‘ dont be lazy’ ..its always a critical voice – and what I do when I hear that voice – sometimes give in, sometimes try and distract from that voice…by doing something… ugh, and so it continues.
And there’s no option for this when in the moment of survival in abuse, the mind is utterly active, and my body just wants to be active to compensate. Thats why I anxiety clean. Its why I needed EMDR to rewrite my brain, so I could sit.
But- back to this moment.
Here,
Now:
Sitting still, just for a moment.
The greatest challenge.
It takes a fight to sit and just be.
It takes courage to be.
To sit and breathe.
To listen.
Not just to the externals of some music or the sounds from outside- that are tempting to go and see
But listen to the noise of my internal breath
Listen to the sound, of quiet, of silence
And notice myself.
Just being.
How good are you at being? How are you in your being today?
What if I ‘just’ sit and be? and its not even just sitting, that makes it out to be something secondary, what if ‘being’ was valued and important, what if being me, being you was the ‘most’ important thing. What if it wasn’t a luxury to have a moments peace and quiet, but something valued, and treasured by all, and encouraged in each other. I could easily do a million and one other things, but the most important and difficult thing.
Just to be.
Realising the life in every breath. In every moment.
Giving your self time. Time for yourself.
Its not about getting off one rat race and finding another, but noticing the being inside. Bringing awareness to your very soul, and being, and heart. Its you that matters.
So just sit. And be.
Be with yourself for a while. Sense the life within. Sense you.
Taken from ‘Love for Imperfect Things – Haemin Sumin
What does every Miss World contestant – and also every abuse survivor want? Peace.
Peace from the noise, Peace from the terror, Peace from the eggshells, Peace from the pain
Peace
Space
Freedom to be.
A safe space. Rest.
Peace to sleep, safety to be.
Loved…
So, I may disagree slightly with Eckhart Tolle, as peace is found when circumstances change – when a situation of abuse changes.
When the space is opened up, where there is safety, there is space to breathe, peace.
And in that moment of peace, comes often the same realisation, of Who I am.
I take myself back a week.
I had no peace for 2 weeks. Anxiety was ruling my mind, constant swirl of a trauma reaction. I was unsettled.
Yet I was safe, Yet I was and am loved, Yet I could breathe…I had been taken back.
Part of recovering peace, for me was about remembering who I deeply am. That I am valuable, that a part of me was hurting (not my whole self), part of me required loving attention and warmth. I didn’t have peace until I could offer myself this tenderness.
My mind didnt have peace until after EMDR treatment.
It was all part of the process of recovering my emotional equilibrium and balance.
Peace.
I can sense that im in a state of peace, because my mind feels quiet.
To be honest, I struggle to write, when there doesnt seem to be that urge to write about something that’s causing pain or anger, or difficulty or trauma.
What is peace for you?
Freedom from the noise?
Rest?
Quiet?
Time to breathe?
That deep realisation of knowing who you are?
Our True Self can never be lost
Even for a single moment
Just like the present can never be lost
it is always here and now
whether we pay attention to it
Haemin Sumin, Love for Imperfect things
Find a moment to be still with your true self today.
Be Still. Quiet. Attentive.
Do not strive for peace.
Listen attentively, like you’d embrace your friend.
James Ballantyne 