Transformation is through the body, not away from it (Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now)
I think I read ‘The Power of Now’ about 3 years ago, im not sure if there’s been a month since when I haven’t gone back to it and given it a read as something has taken me back to it.
There is much in it, and many have written on it before, so this is in no way a review. But, the part of the book for me that felt the most uncomfortable when I read it the first time, and I guess then the most challenging, was the section on the Body. In particular about the Body and Spirituality.
The quotation above is in a section in which Tolle describes how the body was ‘left behind’ in aspects of western spirituality (in favour of the mind) and how this fragmentation can be repaired, and without it, that transformation, from the inside out, is impossible.
My timings might be off, but when I read those words 3-4 years ago, I knew I had started in myself the tiny steps of repairing the inner disconnect.
Part of this was to distance myself from the religious language and practices I had inherited that aided the separation (written about here in part 1 of this series on loving our bodies).
Part of this had been in tiny steps to recognise the worth and value of my own body in maybe tiny physical ways; at that point I was valuing myself with nice clothes, enjoying the feel of baths to relax in, using Nivea moisturiser, eating better and healthier and at least valuing my body more than I had done previously.
Part of this too, I think was that I had begun or about to do Trauma Therapy, which in every session I was able to sense coherence, in some emotional ways, inner re-wirings, which meant tiny shards of feeling settled on the inside in a way not before.
The journey of body connection had begun, in tiny steps.
And so, as I read The Power of Now at that time, it felt reassuringly natural, yet also uncomfortable and aspiring, to think, to feel or get a sense of renewal through the body. For I also knew then I still had a lot of work to do.
My tendency as I said above was to disconnect from my body (with all the religious permission to do so) and blame it, enact pain on it and self soothe it in a number of harmful ways.
So to talk about Spirituality through the body, when my body didnt feel emotionally safe, strong, peaceful.. when it didnt feel at ‘home’ in itself, still felt a long way away – yet, at the same time, having tried to do religiosity through the mind, I also knew/felt something had been lacking.
It was like trying to have a faith life with the ‘self’ quadrant (of the four quadrants, self, God, community, creation) on just the beginning of bringing itself to the James spiritual life party. I mean it was better than it was, but it was just starting..
The search for meaning and truth for me had been in external things, to the extent of neglecting, denying and damaging my body sometimes in the search for and of them, when I saw this in the Power of Now, I realised to what extent.
But this felt real at the time ( underlined then)
Through the inner body, you are inseparably connected to this unmanifested One life- birthless, deathless, eternally present. Through the inner body you are forever one with God
(Eckhart Tolle)
The other source for me of awakening the spiritual within has been John O Donahue, today I read and read the section in which this part is in:
We should avoid the false dualism that separates the should from the body. The soul is not simply within the body hidden somewhere within its recesses. The truth is a the converse. Your body is in the soul, and the soul suffices you completely.
(John O Donohue, Anam Cara)
In a kind of beautiful way, I am finding it much much more difficult to share where I am today in all of this, than where I was three years ago, in that three years, a lot has happened, both dealing with external, but even more so, two lots of therapy later, the internal.
For the first time in my entire life, this year, I have felt completely at home in my own body, like feeling stillness, sureness and confidence, as if, through all the work I know I have done, and with brilliant professional help, there’s safety within.
Not the removal of emotions, like the moment of anxiety, or unsettlement, these have happened, they’re going to. It has neither been the continual sense of transcendence I might add, but more so, the safety to sense and feel, to feel myself as someone of value and immensity, to also sense my own mystery and depths, as well as feeling open and large hearted, like joy and wonder and love are constant companions, not bolts of lightening out of the blue.
Like I am a whole being. Whole.
Transformation has been through the body, and that process has been the slow reconnection, of my mind to accept my body, my heart to love my body, for me, to be, and realise myself as within, and not just thoughts or emotions, but me, conscious me inside.
Is that my soul or my heart? does it even matter, either way, my experience this year, all year has been about becoming day by day more aware, more content, more at home, to sense more love, and peace, more joyous even, and be more open, on the inside.
I wouldn’t have thought that possible 3 years ago. it was beyond comprehension 6 years ago.
So today.
I woke feeling still, and loved, and held, and content, like almost every day this year. I realised I had no plans for the next three days of a bank holiday weekend (I worked yesterday I’ll have Tuesday off too), and so I thought to myself, I would just be.
So I made an intention to just tend to and enjoy the sense of peace in my body, for the outside; i cut my hair, did a facial scrub, shaved and showered, all deliberately and slowly, and then gave myself permission just to feel alive in my body by just wearing shorts for an hour, in my flat, to just feel on the external the same sense of alive and peace on the inside. To sense my body with utterly no shame. And like much of this year, feel utterly alive.
I then picked up both books mentioned above, and have spent today, at home or at my favourite cafe in town, reading, feeling and noticing how different I feel now about my body on the outside, and about my emotional, heartful, safe inner body, and just in the peace of the cafe or home, breathed, sensed and felt renewed in the sense of deep connection within my own body. I feel utterly at peace and still in this moment of realisation, affirmation, bliss even, it feels, I feel wonderful.
I dont really have to write about this at all, I get that, but even this has been a deep experience to try and write in black and white this tiny part of my spiritual, physical and emotional journey, and that transformation really has been through and not despite or outside of my body.
This is the beginning of the realisation of oneness, which is love. At the deepest level of being, you are one with all that is (Eckhart Tolle)
The Spiritual self was inside me all along, love was inside me all along, soul was inside me all along, I was inside all along…
I saw this from the beautiful Kat Shaw Artist yesterday:
Her work is incredible to predominately female audience, on the female body, healing and self image. I always love it, I love this one too.
Yet it provided me a question;
How many times as a Man have I been encouraged to love my body? Or to ‘love the skin’ I’m in?
Mentally arrive at your own answer here too, how many times have you heard this about loving your body as a man?
I hope it’s a lot, but my guess is it’s not very many.
And what was your response when you heard it, who said it to you?
Clearly this question was in my subconscious as when I woke at 2am this morning, and the bulk of what I write next started to take shape, and I think that this might be a series of posts on this.
Let’s start at the beginning, what were the internalised messages, as a boy, that you received as a child, in regard to your body?
Mine were the following.
Nakedness was shameful. A story that was repeated ad finitum by my psychotic mother, to encourage shame, was the story that she and my friends mum found me and my best friend naked under a carpet rug, aged around 3, two innocent little boys. But this story was told with glee to embarrass and shame.
My body could be hit as punishment. Whether her hand or his slippers, thats my body taking it. Taking the punishment my voice and mind caused through being said to be too clever or cheeky.
My body could be made to feel pain deliberately in a controlled way to either create attention, or alleviate other pain – such as biting my nails until they were septic, scratching, picking spots also pulling out my own hair.
Pain also got attention, I hid having verrucas for a week (I didnt know what they were on the balls of my feet, just lumps) after the horror and inconvenience of this ( I loved swimming) I clearly remember how enthused my mother was when it came to getting needles and tweezers out on a daily occurrence to supposedly deal with, but also inflict serious pain. ‘You know your mother likes to get the tweezers out and be the pain doctor’ as my Dad stood by and watched this bizarre scene.
My body could be denied warmth and love as this was what was the norm, so I would lie in bed and feel deliberately cold, not deserving of warmth, or forcing all pain into my head and asking it to numb the pain. Self punishment of my body for a time when id been made to feel guilty about something.
When there was a possibility that I would need braces to alleviate my crooked teeth and as the Dentist said ‘ to help him feel better about his smile and looks’ my mother said that ‘we’ll not worry about this and Im not travelling 12 miles a week to get them set up, checked and done, thats too much effort’
No praise of anything I did that involved physicality, or softness of touch, hugs, love, in fact… this is what I gave my abusive mother…
Clothes and looks didnt matter as a Man, Mum would control what my dad would wear and I as a child wore the most embarrasing clothes.
My body was someone else’s to dictate and destroy, to shame and enact pain on.
Most of these were from under the age of 9. I think the braces I was 11.
What were yours?
Other messages about my body came from church and school, and also inferred from other places too.
They were all internalised in the context with above.
Some of the things about the body, I heard that became implied in church were the following:
The Body was weak and prone to temptation
The Body was fleshly and dirty, compared to the spirit, the soul
Jesus’ body was crucified, so that was ok, bodies are disposable, his mind and soul elevated
The body is mortal, the soul is eternal, so only focus on the eternal
The body is the Temple of the Holy Spirit, but barely attention given to what this actually means, except to use it to pray and read the bible, but it is just ‘housing’ for something more important.
Some parts of the body sin, and could be ‘chopped off’ like eyes..
The Lord sees what’s on the inside, the heart… your body shape, size doesn’t matter, but not in a special way, an irrelevant way.
Not much body love happening here… right?
And the implications for all of this for me, who already felt deep internalised body shame, self conscious, self neglect and pain that I had normalised…
The other activities in my life, including sports and school, emphasised either the cultivation of the mind to do academic work, the physical aspects of the body for sports, some bits on healthy eating, and the facts about the body were just that, facts, how the body works, from the organs and muscles, to the smaller details of the DNA, cells, neurons and oxygenation, facts to be understood, not a body to be treasured or wondered at, just to learn about.
Pictures of perfect male specimens started to adorn my walls, the footballers of the 1990’s in poster form. Ryan Giggs’ left foot, Mark Hughes powerful thighs, the massive hands and shoulders of Peter Schmeichel, and that utter confidence of the mercurial Eric Cantona. It wasn’t difficult to feel inferior, as though I tried to play football, I could in practice but in games I had too much anxiety and panic, and so pretty horrid nicknames were headed my way.
And it was all my bodies fault.
It could all be taken out on my body.
My body didnt matter did it. And though I maybe cute and blond, i didnt like how I looked especially my teeth, and hid myself from any mirror.
It wasn’t difficult looking at this with my eyes open, aged 46, at the damage this was doing.
As I headed into teenage years.
And yes, the myriad of Puberty.
I liked what my body could do, sports wise, I was pretty fit and dived into sports, so swimming, and I wasn’t uncomfortable being practically naked each week swimming with others, I played badminton and pretty flexible, and football, and in the main, was in good physical shape. It wasn’t that I loved my body’s ability to do this, it was that I was competitive and determined to win.
I remember a school nurse when I was 15 or so, it was ‘that’; check up, where they checked my whole body, so I stripped off except pants, and stood there, on the scales, and she commented; ‘James you have a very well toned body with broad shoulders’ and remembering this now, was the only body compliment I received between 0-18. I didn’t know what to do, but probably smile uncomfortably, and let her know that it was due to swimming a couple of miles a week. One of only a few positive body complaints I received as a young person, the other was from a youth leader who probably crossed a line when she told me I had ‘great legs’ and yes… given the sports.. but only two positive body messages in childhood. WOW.
Wasn’t hard to see how easy it would be to disconnect from my body though. Mind and Spirit more important, body the source of pain, frail and weak. And I would berate my body if it couldn’t do sports beyond the pain, keep pushing it, keep pushing it. Or keep pushing it up late to study and learn.
My body just the tool, the housing.
How damaging was all of this though?
What did it cause, self denial, self loathing, shame, self-neglect – and then self pain – from that constant nail biting until I was 17, comfort eating which started when I was 12 (late night bread/cereal was safe food, and required for the ‘growing boy’) and continued until I was 41, averaging 4 slices of bread each night, for 29 years, and thats not to mention the other times I would eat so unhealthily to mask emotional pain, the millions of reduced price doughnuts at Tescos for one example, or eating food in the car between leaving work and going home, to comfort the depression in both settings.
I would try dieting, and it was have to be severe, and it worked for the odd month, but it wasn’t from a whole place, comfort eating soon followed again…
So let’s go back to puberty…. eeeeuuugghhh, I know..
Yes.
Those body changes. All seen as humorous by those parents. The Voice cracking, squeaking, etc, trying to work out myself about shaving and also, the looking in the mirror; The spots. Oh the spots. I had learned to inflict pain. You can guess the rest.
At this time also, though maybe also before, our eyes dont help us think that our own bodies are beautiful do they?
Starting to notice, like and find and fancy other people. I’ll be inclusive, it may have been other boys to you, but it was girls for me. Eyes start to notice the shape of girls and not really know how to deal with what they saw. From their hips, legs, smile, breasts and bum and everything else. All of which is perfectly natural, but seriously hard to know what to do with as a disassociating teenager, with body in shame mode, trying to be a good christian boy and go to school with some well developing beautiful young women.
And those eyes still do the same dont they, even in a healthy way, you may be reading this blog on the couch and your beautiful partner (male or female) is making you a coffee and they are hot in your eyes, they are your partner, they have something that raises your temperatures… so it can be difficult to love ourselves and our own bodies when our eyes see the beauty in other people before our own.
I know most of this is my story. But anyone else relate?
So.. the big question:
Have you, as a man, ever considered that you could love your body?
As it is… not as you think it should be
All of it? Even if it can feel frail or has let you down
All of it? even if it contains feelings that seem mysterious, or distractive
All of it? as you are, not comparing it to the bodies who you find attractive
All of it? even now, today, even after it may have tormented by others in the past, wrongfully (it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t your body’s fault)
And as Men, what have we learned to feel about our own bodies…it’s barely to love it is it?
Men, why do we find this weird? Does it feel feminine? Does it feel soft? Does it feel impossible? It’s as if our bodies has housed all of our shame and we don’t know what to do with it, I didnt.
I sense there is a lot more to write about this subject from both an emotional, physical, spiritual and sexual perspective.
But I want to end this piece with this quotation, which I read yesterday, and tied with what I read above.
‘It takes so long to learn to take the place in your own life’ (John O’Donohue, Eternal Echoes).
And this life includes our bodies. the inner wholeness within, the sense of peace and contentment, acceptance of and also, not using the language we have created to berate our bodies, instead loving our bodies with kind words. But it takes so long, far too long, and it’s about unlearning all the internalised messages from a long long time ago. They do not need to rule in our heads any more, another way of thinking about our bodies is possible.
I’m a man, and have a heart too, can this not love myself and my body in a healthy way, and what would this feel like to have self acceptance, wholeness and love for myself.. within?
Please do put some of your thoughts and reasons in the comments below or send me an email. This as I say is part one.
Actually finding out a little more of my family history in the last 4 years has helped me to join the dots, reconnect and give me a sense of something.
It stared with googling my name.
I’m now on a bit of a treasure hunt. To find evidence of past Ballantynes, and also artefacts of both RM Ballantyne and the published works of James Ballantyne (based in Edinburgh from the 1700’s).
Some of this I want to know about, some will be a treasure and surprise when I find it.
I have a physical ancestry. A story.
But – what if my soul has an ancestors too?
My body and mind aren’t going to last forever, but my soul might?
And if so – might it have been somewhere else before?
and further still …. might the soul I have now, have been someone else’s one time before and was there a process for it to choose my body, my life and my experiences…
and if so…for what purpose?
Have you ever thought this?
I don’t think I mean reincarnation, but maybe soul ancestry, what’s the history of my soul, and curiously was it reluctant, happy or determined to exist in my experience now, for the time I am hosting it?
Was my Soul happy before and why my experiences?
and might there be a point when my embodied soul considers itself complete? or will it accumulate experiences, feelings and character for all eternity – if that’s even what it is doing?
Or will it become something different, like non human. Animal even? Is that what my soul might become next? Was it non human before? might this explain my affinity with nature – but then might this explain all of our affinity with the natural world?
Then, thinking Shakespeare… If all the world is a stage… what’s the role of the soul? Might Jung be right to consider the God archetype part of our humanity to exist – and this might be the soul- but what stages, performance, directions, scenes has my soul played before? Or has it been the same one, and its just the actor, the body that’s changed.
And, when there’s different performances of the soul – what happens in the gap? The Soul interval? From one person to another – and in those moments where might the soul rest, or wait, or choose?
Then again… Would I want to know? Would I want to know the full list of other people, objects, animals, trees even – that it has inhabited since it was created.. and when was that – what would I do with that list , my soul ancestry? Would it help me to explain things now? Like my genetic make up, from 10 generations of Ballantyne for example.
Continuing that thought. When was my soul created? Or was it always, well just always there. When did it come from?
Isn’t that it all along. Is the question not about how the world was created, but how the souls did?
Might this be God, divine or source all along? A lake of souls from which emanated souls like rivers into the flow of human existence?
Is my soul in my today, in January 2023, right now for a purpose?
And if so…what is it?
So so many questions, maybe the start of this was to recognise having a soul in the first place, as well as wanting to have some understanding of my familial past.
Like discovering Ballantynes, maybe my souls journey will take me on a similar treasure hunt.
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.
James Ballantyne 