James Ballantyne

Tag: avoidance

  • Paradox of growth.

    ‘It is the paradox of spiritual growth that through such bleak winter journeys we eventually come through a hidden door into a bright field of springtime that we could never have discovered otherwise’ (John O Donohue, Divine Beauty)

    This feels better, healthier than

    ‘All things are for a reason’  cliche.

    Even if both are virtually the same.

    Paradox.

    The paradox that facing darkness and finding strength and power through darkness…..leads to light being shone.

    Lightness appears in the dark journeys in so many ways

    When you discover the pattern of their behaviour

    When you discover the pattern of your own

    When the weight of fault or shame or responsibility falls..

    When people show up to your vulnerability

    When safety is felt….a feeling that had long been disregarded or survived despite it’s lacking

    When small shoots of personal hope, courage and strength appear…like the tiny white dots of the snowdrops in January

    Yet..the paradox is that for so long the possibility of this growth is delayed, resisted, fought against….because it feels too hard, too difficult, to time consuming to face it.

    Better to leave alone

    Too busy to face it

    To difficult

    Let it be…

    In those occasions the darkness retains it’s power, the darkness has its hold, awakened free growth stays silent behind the door,

    Talk of growth is fascinating, and what kind of growth is possible when the daily task is survival, suppression, soothing, avoidance, denial or rejection of the very thing that were consuming so much energy on, just to stay alive….alive behind so much hurt and pain that often written in our skin and eyes.

    Yet that growth that promise, that light is veiled. Hidden in mystery.

    Growth is feared, darkness clung to.

    The wrestle of continuing in between, shining light in the tension of the now, light shining in darkness, costly, draining, hard, and well done you for keeping your candle lit.

    Yet, we can want to protect the very darkness that’s hurting us, and preventing us from the lightness of growth that’s inviting us, because that’s the place of safety and security, a life we’ve been used to, in cycles of addiction, soothing and self blame, and feeling happy in designated smallness because that’s been ‘our place’.

    Yet the door waits.

    It can only block out the light for so long

    It can only let you stay restless in the darkness for so long

    It invites, it calls

    The paradox.

  • Following The Gap

    Take a moment and have a look at this photo. 

    What do you notice?

    The Misty shrouded mountain top? 

    The Stone wall?

    The Green fields?

    As I stood and looked at this scene just before Christmas, the thing I noticed was the gaps. 

    Gaps. 

    Intentional spaces between a barrier, or border, space left open. 

    A navigation tool,  and opening to see from distance to walk towards. 

    To follow. 

    To trust. 

    To know that you are on a path (though might not always be the right one ;-) ) 

    And at the start of the new year, the year starts with the gap of opportunity. The gap of unlived promise, desires to be awakened, space to be filled. 

    Yet…

    What, if I’m honest, do I struggle with most? 

    Often it’s the gap between expectation and reality, the expectations in my thoughts, and the reality of the experiences, what actually is happening, or going to and being unable to have open acceptance. Too little a gap between them, to much mind going on in the swirl of the every experience.

    Or the noise in my mind when I think I’m in trouble, or upset someone , or not done enough, or guilt about any of these things and the filling of the space happens….yet….

    Or even deciding to make that gap, because it’s sometimes so much more comfortable to fill it, even when that inner discomfort is saying otherwise. Because, I can decide, I have more power than I realise.

    What space might we make for the gap, that space between things and no-things. 

    To sense and make a space between expectations and realities, and not feel disappointment, but to notice that what is as a gift. 

    The gap is open, it is air. 

    It may be time to breathe in the gap. 

    To make space to dwell in presence, and not productivity.

    The Slow time of betweenness where silence calls its disturbing, and also peaceful voice. 

    Space for Space itself

    The invitational promise of the gap

    That focussed the mind on consciousness itself

    To wonder

    To be

    To imagine

    The gap between thought and feeling

    Between longing and belonging

    Where we find God, being, freedom or Love

    Where we sense that mystical indescribable something, close.

    Just there. 

    Always.

    Like the empty pages of this years diary, or the gaps between the notes in a music score. 

    Notice.

    The Gap.

    And, let the Gap call you forward.  

    Take your time this year. 

    Move slowly. 

    And decide to go there. 

    To give that energy inwards

    And let it find you. 

    Because it’s there.

    And there may you be embraced by peace. 

    Time, to be, time to sit,

    stay there…as long as you can dwell.   

    This has been inspired by my current reading which is  ‘Living Untethered’ by Michael A Singer, his previous book ‘The Untethered Soul’ is one I highly recommend, on seeing, feeling and noticing the mind, and how to live in personal freedom. 

  • The Joy of First Time Puddles

    It rained today.

    Actually, where I was, it more than rained today

    Rain bounced off the roof today

    Rain flooded the cafe patio where I was today

    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.

  • Allowing Shit to Settle

    No thanks

    I’d rather pretend the shit didn’t exist thank you very much

    I’d rather add a whole layer of other stuff on top of it

    I’d rather pretend that the shit was actually roses without any thorns

    I’d rather do avoid the shit, and run and hide away

    I’d rather distract from the shit

    Id rather bypass the shit and say it was just God’s plan for me to endure

    I’d rather keep busy that sit with it.

    I’d rather cover it up with comforting food

    Or hope that entertainment soothes it

    Or scroll on Facebook to take on even more, or get annoyed at something else

    Or go to a football match or do some exercise to ‘get the anger out’

    I can’t allow it to settle

    That would mean accepting

    Feeling it, smelling it

    Sensing it in its fullest sense

    Realising that it exists

    And it has affected me

    And I feel sad, I feel angry, I feel hurt,I feel..what ever this dose of shit makes me feel

    Rage, hurt, tears, coming out, from amidst the shit

    And then

    The voice from within that says, you are not the shit

    I am not the shit, I am bigger than it

    I let it, but it isn’t devouring me, I can feel it, look at it, and realise that I am me, and the shit isn’t me

    Even if I am in it or have been given it

    It’s not a place to want to stay and now that I’ve felt it, I can move away

    And not keep it buried, hidden or avoided to come back to..and deal with, another day. Piling more and more above it

    Naming it, feeling it, sensing it, letting it settle, and be

    And breathe, and know, that I am more, I am bigger, I can see

    That there’s a way out, that I can take, and in the quiet of nothing

    That voice , that me, is waiting to speak, and heal, repair and recover, rebuild and remake

    And Ill look at the shit one day from a different place, and realise how far I am from it, and I needn’t look back, because I dealt with it once, twice or many

    Clean air awaits, entices and breathes, it’s fresh and it’s pure, green grass in the fields awaiting our feet

    It’ll only feel good when I haven’t cheated, and try to enjoy it with a bag full of shit, I’m still carrying around, or buried deep, hoping never to be found.

    Letting it settle and letting it be

    Is part of the way of making me free.

    (thank you to Gabriella Russo on Facebook for the image)