Something to do, somewhere to go, something to worry about, something now, something then, something tomorrow, something near, something far away, something someone else said, did, or didn’t do, something, there’s always something
Something to feel guilty about, something to feel concern about, someone to please, someone to be responsible for, something to react to, something…..
There’s always something
Something to read, something to tidy, something to give, something to buy, something to see, something to be addicted to, something to plan, something to make, something
There’s always something
Something crowding in, something taking away the space of being
Something there to soothe the thing that’s a worry
Something stressful to focus on instead of the actual thing that needs dealing with
A pressure, a twist, a turn, a plan, a dream, an ambition..
Something…
What if there was a gap in the something, the elusive gap
A gap in the cultural programming
A gap in the emotional state
A gap in the responsibility
A gap that you and I make
A gap to breathe, slow
A gap to notice the pace of the things and decide not to be on that pace
A gap in which the inner voice can be heard
A gap in the moment, a gap in the mind
A gap to notice that you notice the inner voice, and that this is not you, just your voice
A gap to listen
A gap to feel the present moment
The present you
Where no thing else matters but you, inner you
Human you, conscious you, alive you
Can you hear the gap calling?
The voice from the deep, screaming, making itself known to you, wanting space
Wanting the gap
The gap between, the Elusive gap
Thats the power you and I have
The power of the now moment
The time is now, yes now.
A brilliant resource on this, on becoming more aware of your consciousness is The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle, Im also just reading his follow up – A New Earth.
I walked on tip toes for a good few years after learning to walk – I must have known the importance of having to stay quiet
When I was told of for sneezing at the dinner table, I learned to sneeze, without making a noise
Dont touch the water when peeing, too noisy
Turn the TV down – I don’t want to hear it – came the voice from the kitchen
Knowing which floorboards were creaky on the stairs, and avoiding them
Helped to know this, so that ‘operation turn bedroom light off’ could be invoked when these same stairs were landed on by those whose noise was constant.
As well as mild, and loyal – being quiet was a survival strategy, don’t make a noise
Dont draw attention….away from the one who’s attention was demanded
Dont touch the piano– unless you’re going to play its properly
I dont want you to learn the violin – ‘I cant bear the sound’
And as for other noises…
No burping or swearing allowed.
No raised voices.
Learning to be quiet – it was the only way.
No shouting, no anger, no aggression
Nothing to upset the monster.
Creeping quietly around the house, hoping not to be found.
Sneaking into the front room, whilst she was in the kitchen.
A parent with a ‘do not disturb’ sign hung permanently around their neck.
This wasn’t because she was working from home with a major investment project – or on the phone to clients – or with friends round – we were an inconvenience, unless useful.
My role every day was to set the video each morning, to record the lunchtime episode of neighbours so we could watch at 4pm after school, so that she could be cooking at that time for when Dad got home. That was the ‘shared’ family moment – watching TV, the rest of the time..
‘Do not disturb’
Quiet toys, lego (get them out one by one, don’t make a mess or a noise)
Trains that didn’t have batteries
Pocket calculators, chess, colouring
Books to read
Toys that didn’t involve anyone else to play with, so I could be on my own, all the time.
Only one person could make a noise, only one person could dominate the sound.
Other noise was a threat.
Challenge it was seen to rebel. So stay quiet.
What happens when you’re scared to make a noise? Utter inhibition.
Learning to be quiet
Learning to stay invisible , except where it was acceptable, on the trophy shelf.
Noise was shameful, noise was disrespectful
Noise challenged, noise rebelled
So to comply, and to be loyal, I stayed quiet. Until I learned
Until I learned how quiet had damaged me, and others around me, until I realised I could use my voice, speak and let my heart rise again.
I’d probably describe myself as a former cycling enthusiast, It was a thing I did alot for good period of 2-3 year and then I found it harder and harder to motivate myself to get out on the bike. Though I have done a bit more recently. Scotland was the perfect setting, fabulous quiet roads, scenery and summer nights that were light until very late, and the odd glimpses of red kites in the sky, red squirrels on the roads, and did I mention scenery… that in bucketloads.
I think this was somewhere between Perth and Bankfoot, but memory has gone. It was only many short 20-30 mile routes and it had a ford near the top.
Anyway, one such route that was known was ‘The Beast’ – it involved over 100 miles, from Perth, Crieff, Aberfeldy, then up and over the back of loch Tay and over Ben lakers, Killin, Lochearnhead, Comrie, snd Crieff and back again. If you can see the little roads on this map you’ll see the route, what you don’t see on this map is the hills and climbs. A cafe a Bridge of Balgie supplied essential snacks at lunch, but the calories for them were gone after the Ben Lawers climb, and there was still 50 miles for me to get back.
Anyway, If my memory serves me well, I completed this route three times. It was a summer thing, and needed several 70+ rides in the preceding weeks to build up to it. I didnt ever try and better times on it.
The second time I completed it I had heard of a way of making myself cycle faster.
In the bike magazine I was reading, it suggested that to slow down the messages from your leg muscles that you are in pain, listen to music on a ride. So I did. I borrowed a tiny iPod shuffle (it was 2011) and headphones and so, on the ride I listened to music. I dont remember the music, though I think I tried to listen to lively music for exercising and tempo.
In effect, I was trying to numb the actual messages my body was trying to tell my brain.
So, what happened? It told me, eventually, for though I had maintained carbs, liquids, gels, food all day – it wasn’t enough, I did complete the ride. If I remember I had suffered some kind of cramp around the route or on the 20-30 miles back. But when I got back I collapsed, on the bed, body fully empty of any energy, shaking, weak and beyond movement or functioning.
Those messages had been screaming at me, and I wasn’t listening. Yes I responded at strategic stops for food/water – but to get to the end I was numbing.
I feel like this was such a picture of how I deal with emotions, feelings – whether happy, sad, joyful, angry – I numbed them. I just had to survive. I just had to find ways of ignoring them, distractions, soothing, being busy, new hobbies, shopping, cooking, not stopping, to notice – then working, studying, staying in my head. My head was my safe place – but I also filled it with noise, of news, of podcasts, of opinions, of anything.
Numbing the pain on a ride was just a metaphor for numbing the pain and emotions that I had been running from all of my life. Go faster, climb higher, ride further – dont stop to hear the messages, until..I …burn..out.
Fearing what would happen if I could actually feel. Fearing that and losing myself in the soothing of others, denying myself, numbing myself and not listening.
Why am I writing this today? – well because sometimes when im sitting, thinking, reading, or even processing my emotional reactions to some startling news today – an image, or a memory comes to mind – reminding me of where I was. I needed permission to feel emotions, and safety too, as well as the time to get to know and feel myself. Its funny how cycling 40 miles on bike rides was also part of escaping the childhood house.
I can see that in this photo taken in 2012, that I am lost, and there is no life in my eyes.
What I realised a few weeks ago, is that its far easier to ride a bike when it didnt need to do more than be a bike ride. I could relax and breathe and…enjoy being happy on a bike.
Me in 2022..emotions on display…. a 10 year older face..but with spark and life.
Its kind of obvious looking at these photos what numbing pain and emotion was doing to me, isn’t it?
Instead of numbing my emotions, i’m learning to listen to them, learning that I dont need to hold them, noticing anger, fear, anxiety, and responding sometimes by swearing, drawing, moving, writing, listening – also means that I can feel all the happy feelings too, the bliss of being loved, smiling and laughing with my fiancé. I had to learn, and be in a safe place to begin to feel my feelings. Until that point I was numbing them out, like a mad cyclist on a 100 mile ride in the middle of Scotland. Like I used to.
I love when I read something and because im in a different time and place, it means something different to me, I see something different in the words and meaning that I didn’t before. When I studied hermeneutics as part of my theology studies and then personal research 10 years ago, I would have understood this as the ‘reader response’ to a text, and thought then only of sacred texts like the Bible.
I have just finished re-reading The Hobbit, it’s the fourth time I have read it, and the second time I’ve read it out loud, I read it to my son George about 10 years ago, and recently to my fiance Christelle, also as a bed time story.
It’s the first time I’ve read it in 8 years though, and I had sort of dismissed it as an adventure story, and wonder how I’d find it compared to having just read the Harry Potter series
As well as finding resonance in the conversation with the dragon part, the sneaky burglar role and the effect of power and wealth – whether got for legitimate or non legitimate means, it was this part at the end that stood out
And why should they not come true, surely you don’t disbelieve the prophecies, because you had a hand in bring them about yourself? You don’t really suppose that all your adventures and escapes were managed by mere luck, just for your sole benefit?
What did I once believe? That God would sort things out? That I couldn’t make anything happen? Maybe even that my destiny was never to be happy and that was what my luck was?
Or was I waiting for someone else to fix it for me? Me, the passive victim waiting to be emotionally rescued and someone else patch me up, and yes at the point of crisis I needed immediate patching up. But..
I had to make it happen
I had to act, even with all the best guidance and support in the world
I had to make a myriad of choices and actions happen
I had to learn how to make decisions for myself and also that were for myself
I had to stop being passive, or waiting for someone or something else to fix it, or play a never ending waiting game of was a manipulation in itself.
Echart Tolle writes something very similar, stating that in simple terms, if we want to get out of a situation, or change it, we must act, and doing nothing is also action. Improbably misquoting him, but hey I’m writing this on a train
If I attributed what I did to ‘The Gods’ where would that leave me now? What if how Ive changes and grown and dug deep been all just God and not me? I’m not going to say that I don’t believe God wasn’t in it, and I’m rediscovering God again, but what sense of power, or achievement or self pride would I have in it, if It was just God’s plan or destiny? Or good luck?
The universe conspires to help the dreamer – Paulo Coelho
But even then I had to make things happen, i had to take responsibility for myself, make choices and decisions, not all of them perfect or right, but I where I listened to my heart, and sought to do something that I felt was best for me, somehow that did. And that includes every day. Every day even now.
Whether that’s a positive decision to not have a TV or watch the news, whether that’s a positive decision to listen to my feelings and anxiety and sit, write and express them, whether that’s to cook good food for myself, whether that’s to continue to deal with the mess of the past or survival strategies of the past through therapy, whether that’s to embrace love and vulnerability with my fiance Christelle, whether that’s continuing day by day to attend to myself, be kind to myself, these are all active choices I make every single day.
So maybe, this is all about power after all. I had to realise I had more power that I thought, more power than I knew, more power than I wanted, and that I wasn’t fatalistically dependent on someone else. That I didn’t need to be scared anymore.
From a place of fear, of being abused and scared, I had to take power, I had to start to make things happen for myself, sometimes one vulnerable step after another, but still steps.
Maybe destiny and prophecies have to be found and created, and not waited for…thanks Gandalf…
I realise the other day how much ‘second-guessing’ that accompanied every decision I had to make – to do with something that was about me.
One of the consequences of being ‘Born to be loyal’ was that what accompanied it was the fear of stepping out of line. Conformity was embedded. As was the sheer terror of her, mother. Upsetting her, making her angry, all of which she was capable of being at anything- or nothing.
What this meant for me, was that to keep myself safe I was fulfilling the role. Survival meant the survival of the mildest, the quietest.
This was reflected in everything I did.
The children books that I read were comics and Roald Dahl, toys were lego and trains.
I didn’t listen to music – in fact music was practically banned in the house, except TV soundtracks (this was the music on cassette tape in the car on family holidays, or tape childrens books) TV soundtracks…and my parents were around during the 1960’s but you wouldn’t know it – its as if they went through the 1960’s in an evangelical cult, avoiding the real world. So, no music. So what was my first single. I was a child of the 1980’s… Duran Duran, Pet Shop Boys, Metallica, Guns n Roses? – nope…. A TV theme song…. yes that one from ‘Neighbours’ 1989, Angry Anderson – there’s an irony, the closest I got to angry from the age of 11 – mild song, mild me.
The same theme continued – having to stay safe with music, the most rebellious I got, was to play Meat Loaf loud – and then I was made to feel guilty for it, or asked – ‘Are you sure to be listening to this’? yuk yuk.
But it meant I didnt buy songs with swearing in, and kept things safe. How many 17 year olds were listening to christian worship music?
Born to be wild… yeah… frankly anything but….
Mild.
So that I didnt have to ask them for anything, I worked from the age of 13, paper rounds, babysitting, and then retail work. Id learned not to ask for what I wanted or needed – but I noticed that even when I bought things it was interrogated – certain things were a ‘waste’ of my own money…too many sweets.. or ‘shouldn’t you be saving some of that’ .
Everything I chose to buy, even with my own earned money – was commented on or interrogated.
What I realised was that I hated any comment from them, it was never genuine, it was loaded, with patronising criticism, jealousy, or projection.
‘Is it Christian?’
‘are you sure thats appropriate?’
‘Should you be listening to that?’
‘Don’t you think you should have been home earlier’
So I had to second guess what I bought for myself.
Useful things were ok, like a bike, a hi-fi, camera – but given that I had the money to buy clothes – I still had to buy ‘bargains’ or safe clothes that weren’t rebellious. Usually plain, unless it was the favourite checked shirt or waist coat – or football tops. What I realise now, is that my second guessing brain was in charge of my purchasing. I remember going to Leicester on a few occasions, armed with a few hundred pounds, and not able to buy clothes I liked – but trying to buy clothes that weren’t too expensive, were reasonable, and didnt stand out , spending hours walking between three different shops to try and make a decision about a shirt, a jacket, jeans or whatever it was.
I was in a teenage body, but reasoning decisions like a frightened child or adult – and not anything like a normal teenager would be.
Mild – also wasn’t going out, getting drunk, coming back late. Nothing external to rebel.
Mild was babysitting at a friends house on New Years eve, so that I could finish A level homework – and still being told off for being late home. When my 18 yr old friends were getting drunk. Mild.
Mild was doing a Christian gap year at the end of those A levels, but this didnt fit in with their plans/trophied expectations – still a mild way to rebel.
Mild – I remember not being allowed to have to colours I wanted in my room – they were too bright. I wanted Red….but a brighter red that I was allowed.
As a consequence of being born to be loyal, survival meant being born to be mild. Being the safe, invisible, oldest child. Doing nothing to upset the apple cart, not asking or needing, not standing out, not rebelling, not noisy, conform.
I was easily criticised for being indecisive. I had to over think every ‘seen as selfish’ decision – and so this paralysed my decision making. In fact, strange how the persons who caused the indecision that criticised me for being indecisive at times. Utterly overthinking, second guessing, trying to please, partly, moreover, trying to not upset, trying to not stand out, trying to be stay invisible, trying to stay loyal, meant born to be mild.
Why did I notice recently how mild I had to be?
Because for the last few years I have bought my own clothes. I put colour in my choice of socks, I bought even more checked colourful shirts and t shirts. I now take my inner child shopping, and little James has fun trying on things, trying on fun things, being brave with colour. Little James makes impulse buys. Little James is growing a music collection.
Although I might have considered myself a ‘not very judgemental’ type of person, borne out, mostly of a combination of people pleasing, empathic behaviour from an early age, and also adopting youth and community work values, stemming from human values that were of this nature from my studies. Strong empathy on one hand maybe, maybe even non judgemental at times too – I definitely did judge though, often as a form of a projection, this could be to organisations, or people groups. A classic one would be to say that a group of young people were ‘hard to reach’ – from an organisation point of view – but that was more likely a reflection on my own practice in engaging – rather than their responsibility.
That was from an organisational point of view – project outwards to hide personal defects or deficits. Many projections I made came from what I did not have, critical of what others had.
Im just reading ‘Born to Win’ by Muriel James and Dorothy Jongeward, in it they very succinctly describe the process of as an adult learning from projections saying:
A projection is a trait, attitude, feeling or bit of behaviour which actually belongs to your own personality but is not experienced as such, instead it is attributed to object or persons in the environment and then experienced as directed towards you instead of the other way around
Perls, in James/Jongeward
So its something that is in my own personality – that I might either be aware or unaware of, or in denial of – that I communicate outwards, yet it resides in something of my own more than it does others. Most insults are projections. Most of what I heard by my abusive mother was projections. One was;
‘Look at _______, they are spoiling that child’
When this translating as, I am actually neglecting my children, and justifying this as ‘not spoiling’
So what about mine.
In the above book they share another example:
‘The picture of being rejected – by first his (or her) parents and now his (or her) friends is one the neurotic goes at great lengths to establish and maintain. Whilst some claims might be true , what is also true is that the person has failed to live up to ideal expectations or standard he imposed on them. Once he (she) has projected his/her rejecting onto the other situation, regard themself as the passive object of all kinds of unwarranted hardship, unkind treatment or even victimisation’
It was only when I became aware of what I did not have that I realised I was projecting. In a twist of irony, where my parents projected that other parents were spoiling their children, and emotionally damaging us, my own projections focussed on the luxuries of others, whilst not being aware of how I was in denial of myself. I dont need self -care, I can manage without…. or ‘look at them going to get their fix’ , what I understand now is that I can use my projections to listen and learn to myself and see what it is that might be part of my own personality. I wince at some of my blogs on my other site, or even here.
Whats also clear is that unsurprisingly, my childhood family communicated in the language of projection. It was what Sunday Lunchtime was, complain and project about everyone in church that morning, its what conversations were after seeing family members – ‘everyone else is damaging/toxic’ . Everyone else is the problem… so as I grew up its no wonder I can see how it was easy to fall into the same cynical critical stand point. As a child there was no way of knowing or realising what was going on. I had learned a way of hiding what was deficit in myself by projecting outwards.
On reflection, can I continue to be brave and courageous to realise where my current tendencies to project outwards might reveal personal deficiencies in my own personality?
What might it mean, like to quote says above – to read the lines of projection in insults?
What do I – what do you accuse other of – that might be self-lesson waiting to be had?
This is a brilliant article on exploring projections further, do give it a read – on why we use projections as defence mechanisms, instead of owning and expressing ourselves.
Over the last few weeks I have, again, through a combination of therapy and personal reading, began to identify more about the ways in which I survived – or were guided towards surviving as a child in the midst of emotionally immature parenting (from both parents).
I had some favourite toys as a child, many of which – except for board games- were ones in which I played alone, I was the older child. Some of those favourite toys were train sets, lego and less so mechano – they all involved building, making a route, a building and then playing with them. The constructing was more fun than the playing. In the 1980’s Video games were non existent, for me, though there was at least one racing game I remember – but these kind of games were seen as a waste of time by the parents. (sudden realisation here…. something frivolous was a ‘waste of time’ – play wasn’t worth spending money on….most of my toys had some education purpose….or they were quiet) (I’ve talked about fun elsewhere..)
I read a lot of books, and at this time of the year I am reminded of the very long summer nights as a child and how I would read late into the night, books by Roald Dahl mostly, though also Beano Annuals, Comics and other books I cant remember- my bedroom window had a western facing window and so it was so light until late I wouldn’t need the light on.
There were a few electronic games, educational ones obviously, that I did have, one was a kind of colour coded game in which I had to copy the sequence of colours/lights in a row , and the sequence would get longer and longer. From about the age of 10, as I had learned to play chess by then, I had a computer chess game, so that I could play chess by myself, and move the pieces and follow the coordinates on the red lights, this was great as I could play in the room and listen to adult chat or could hide away somewhere. Other times I remembered playing and making up games to myself, even playing against myself in games like naughts and crosses or one of the children TV quiz shows.
However, the one toy that summed up the child that I was, in the main, was a small yellow electronic calculator, called ‘The Little Professor’ . I was given one at the age of about 5 I think.
The 1980’s Little Professor
I learned quickly that I had to be clever. I wasnt going to be happy, neither felt in any way physically tough or handsome, and as I have said before, I was having to adapt to the systems around me, and also try and understand in it all. Words like conscientious on a good school report or ‘don’t try and be a clever clogs’ on a bad parent reaction day – were common. I learned to find safety in learning. I learned that I was going to have to try and work things out. Try and work out how to do well, how to survive, and even, as I said in this piece, how to work out how to get what I needed, without getting caught…
The little professors, the thinker, perceptive to have to work things out.
Some of it paid off, 4 years of home based little professor and my maths grades at Primary school were the very top. I was intelligent but utterly messy with it, untidy – I didn’t present what I knew well, but I knew things. Oh and I also worked out how to win the Little Bowden School story cup, by copying Martyn Buzzards story, he won by having a dog go on an adventure, I won the next month by having a cat do the same. Teachers couldn’t believe that I would cheat? I didnt cheat, I copied the good idea and turned it into my own. Clever. And maybe sweet and innocent too.
Little James had a very strong little professor – always thinking, trying to work things out, and in the case of this..
I was able to self learn all the times tables, all the sums, and began to memorise complicated sums like 27*37 which is 999 because the display on the little professor only had went up to 999 and so I wanted to work out what sum went to the highest number. There were many games on it, and most of the time I was doing very quick multiplication of double figures, the kind that id only learn to do properly in school many years later.
The ironic thing about the little professor in me, is that numbers was safe. I had no life experience aged 5,6,7,8,9 to fit with the things I was trying to find out, my mind was exploring, and wanting to know answers to questions, but id end up being seriously naive at times. It makes sense in another way too though, because I had to already know intuitively how to navigate eggshells, I had to be perceptive, always. Its no wonder I wanted to do psychology at the age of 16, its as if I knew something about reading other people. Sometimes that Little Professor was creative and innovative – sometimes it still is, and so I am very grateful for my little professor childhood survival strategy, going into my head and valuing learning and intelligence was what I needed to do to survive. Both to do well at school and thrive, and also to understand how to get what I needed, even if was devious.
I may come back to my ‘little professor’ childhood again, but there’s no doubt that in the midst of emotional neglect and abuse, the one thing that did develop , maybe too much, and detrimentally in later life – was that little professor part of my childhood development.
I have stood and made a number of commitments to others.
Commitments to workplace ideals and agreements
Commitments to the terms and conditions of a large purchase
Commitments to the planet as I have tried at times to reduce my carboin footprint, buy organic or grow my own
Commitments to others in relationships.
Commitments to a God, recommitments on a regular teenage basis
Commitments as new year resolutions? – what have they been like for you?
Whats been the biggest struggle for me in terms of commitment?
Commitment to myself
In all my existence, I have only notionally given any thought to making commitments to myself.
There was the time when I was 40 when I decided to do more exercise before my 40th Birthday, and cut down alcohol and reduce food.
It still felt like an external change. Even if my body did appreciate it at the time.
I barely gave any thought to myself. I barely could.
I had been conditioned to think that to think of myself was selfish
I had been conditioned to revolve emotionally around others
I had such an aching emptiness inside that I thought ‘helping others’ was what brought be me joy.
So what could I commit to myself?
External things, like food, exercise and bodily health. Not unimportant.
It wasn’t in balance.
I wouldn’t say I was selfless, though I was at times accused of being selfish for even considering that I had needs.
And I poured out from a completely empty vessel. Because that was exactly what I was used to being.
Neglected and empty, and used to it.
Don’t get me wrong it wasnt that I rejected self-care because I thought it was worthless – though I acknowledge that in the past I may have scoffed a projection of what worth it might do – that was just my defensive survival talk speaking. Why bother with self care – I’ve managed without it?Id rather just tell others about it.
And that’s it isn’t it; before being able to commit to myself, before being able to protect myself, before being able to listen to myself
I had to acknowledge myself
I had to start to recognise that I had a self worth valuing
Some of that started with getting to know myself – self knowledge
Continuing with the ‘feeling of feelings’ ,
and over the course of the last 3-4 years being on a path of self acceptance, self knowledge, self awareness to where I am now, which again is in a process of therapy, and also finishing a counselling course – and reading books on self understanding
What I began without realising it was a path of deep self discovery, a path of rebelling my external intelligence, with internal intelligence too
What might it look like to make commitments to myself, as I am now?
A commitment to personal growth? A commitment to ongoing spiritual and emotional growth?
Committing myself to thinking positively of myself
A commitment to love myself, including the parts of me that have been hidden or frightened?
A commitment to accept raw and vulnerability as part of the process of rebuilding
A commitment to keep listening to myself, my inner voice, my spiritual child within?
A commitment to prioritise myself maybe?
A commitment to value being present perhaps?
A commitment to the slow, and not the fast? The slow rebuild….
A commitment to not give everything away? (NB – I have written a lot in the last 4 weeks, and its not for you here)
In Gary Zukavs book ‘Spiritual Partnership’ he outlines five commitments for his own spiritual and emotional growth, which have inspired me to think about commitment; his are;
Focus on what I can learn about myself
Pay attention to my emotions
Pay attention to my thoughts
Pay attention to my intention
I reflect on my own journey. From denial of myself, to understanding and acceptance of myself, to loving myself – yes its taken a while, yes its not been without tears and revelations of my own responsibilities, behaviour and choices, and also my life survival requirements – but to be in a position of even considering making commitments to myself, for my own sake, for my own well being. How might I pledge these 5 things for myself – and what difference will it continue to make, for me, and others around me, such as Christelle, my kids, family, work…?
So I ask – what commitments have you made to prioritise your own spiritual and emotional self?
Not ideals, but self pledges, self determination, to stay as real, the best I and you can be – what might it be for you?
James Ballantyne 