It’s a place of learning, a place of processing, a place of interpreting, a place to understand.
It has also been my place of safety, or maybe more so my place of escape to.
When emotions and feelings were unsafe, and love was absent, I could hide in my mind.
Read books. Study. Play maths games. Keep thinking.
And when I was cold, use my mind as a superpower to block the pain.
And when I was about to be hurt, use my mind to numb the pain.
Mind was a shield.
I gave my mind too much to do…. yet actually it was a survival mechanism. I could get through things, because I didnt need to feel them, just think.
Yet there’s also social conditioning, the mind has value, in academia, and religious life – learn, reflect, be curious…and I could just keep going, one more book to buy, one more hobby to try, one more thing to learn.
Keep the mind busy, keep the time occupied, keep the demons at bay…
And I sit here writing this in the local Waterstones cafe… a place of learning has been a safe place for me.
And there’s words here too aren’t there.
You are reading them.
And I am thinking about what I might write next.
Because I was afraid.
I was afraid of what would happen….. if for the first time in 40 odd years I would stop thinking, or at least there be a gap in thoughts…
My mind as a place of survival could only do so much of a job. It was incessant.
But overthinking felt normal, overthinking to find strategies to reduce pain, soothe, to please, to soften the blows, or numb them.
So I would negate anything that tried to interrupt this, dont give me the promise of silence, solitude, meditation or even quietly colouring in something, or even space to have someone ask me difficult questions. My mind couldn’t allow this. It was afraid of not being in charge. It was afraid of what it might expose.
My mind wasnt negative or destructive, it was just doing its job in the way it had subconsciously been asked to do, and beyond its skill set.
And there was no distinction for me, between my I and my mind.
Spiritually/ Religiously I gave my mind a ‘gets off scot free’ card – because my heart usually got the blame, as did the self. There’s something else here too, my mind accepted the reality that what was inside me was too shameful to expose, the hurt and pain too great. Accepted because it had tried many moral ways of dealing with it, all failed, and the cycle of shame and self loathing continued.
But also, my minds job was to numb, distract, run, avoid the pain, and protect myself. And it did a good job.
It wasnt equipped to love. And its love that heals.
As I began, forcibly, to start a journey inwards, my mind took on a new task. To learn about myself as if I am my own new hobby or project, as well as learn about the behaviours that I had been exposed to.
This.. very accurate…
So that library of self help books, from Enneagram, to Narcissism, to Spirituality, got bigger and bigger, as I understand myself though a number of thought lenses. All extremely useful.
But it wasnt thinking that would heal.
It wasnt thinking my feelings, or understanding myself that would heal.
Ugh.
I actually had to the exercises in the books, I had to participate in them. I had to feel.
I look now and see quite how much i had given my mind to do, I was a disconnected, disintegrated body, with an overactive mind, with all the voices of protection, fear, self criticism, perfection.
Healing my mind, required safety.
Healing my mind, required love
Healing my mind, required heart…and heart to be safe
Healing my mind, meant seeing it and realising that I am not it
Healing my mind, meant listening to it, loving it, carefully, gently…
Being compassionate on my self critical, self loathing, self soothing parts, scared self..in my mind… and start to not believe these, even if they had been protecting me.
Yet it can easily still want to take charge in situations, easily take me into its formerly welcome gaze, sometimes those thoughts come back, further opportunities to love them, and the wounded parts they stem from.
One of the parts of my inner journey and healing has been to allow my mind to relax and know it doesn’t have to be responsible for everything in my psyche, that I have heart, soul, feelings, that there is space and consciousness. It’s a slow revealing, it’s a daily remembrance.
My inner journey has been inside, beyond the cage of my mind, and letting the colours of the heart, and the soul to ignite, cleanse and transform.
The realisation that I am not my mind, and am trying to keep telling my thoughts that…
Rocked the 5 piece band, singing the International Christian College song back in 2004.
Open the eyes of my heart
Another popular worship song from that time.
Eyes. Seeing
And often it was all about how to see others. Open the eyes of my heart, to see you (God), open the eyes of my heart, to have compassion for others.
There’s nothing more powerful
Than being seen, truly by the other.
(and loved when also being seen in truth and reality)
Yet.
Eyes have a habit of not seeing clearly.
Eyes have a habit of looking outwards with fear, judgement, desire, criticism, resentfulness, inferiority and indifference.
And those same eyes, look inwards, with the same.
Vision is central to your presence and creativity. To recognise how you see things can bring you self knowledge and enable you to glimpse the wonderful treasures in your life secretly holds (John O Donohue, Anam Cara, p 58)
If you know me well, you will know that this book has been a dwelling place for me in the last year, today it was these pages 57-58, on Vision. In which JoD describes all the ways of seeing above.
This morning, I sat and ate a lovely greek breakfast in town, and let the words, and my sensing of them fill me, bring me that awareness, to feel love towards myself in how I used to see myself.
Trying to reach a harsh perfection, Not being good enough.
Totally self critical and beating myself up
Small me and feeling inferior.
High judgement of myself.
Feared..what I might find
Thats not only what I thought I was on the inside, but how I looked at myself too, in fact.. I didnt look at myself. I didnt want to go there.
As I read it this morning I realised quite how much my healing journey of the last 5 years has been about healing of my vision, healing of the way I see myself, from fear and judgement slowly slowly to gentle tender curiosity, to compassionate eyes, loving eyes even.
To truly love myself, I have to see myself in love.
I have to love myself, with gentle, compassionate eyes
Where love opens, love warms, love brings light to what stayed hidden, love sees.
It’s love, it always is love.
The loving eye sees through and beyond image and effects the deepest change (AC, p58)
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.
On a walk back from town this week, in the bookshelf of Darlington’s new LGBT Bookstore I saw this book.
I seriously laughed out loud.
The Evangelical Christian I used to be would have got angry at this violation of the Bible verse.
Today I thought I would do some digging, The quote could originate from a book by Jamie Buckingham, and if so, is the same Jamie Buckingham who wrote about forgiveness in the Christian context back in the 1990’s, ‘Risky living’ was one of his books. Anyway, I digress.
Because, the Truth will set you free, even if it will piss you off at first, completely encapsulates the process of healing struggle after abuse, not that different to the oppression context Gloria writes this in from a feminist perspective.
Individually though, I got faced with choices and decisions and raised awareness about my past and my behaviours that were hard to face, very hard.
But knowing the truth about myself and these things, in the present of the realisation, gave me the choice, to do something about it or deny them, run from them. Deny and Run was what I had done for the previous 40 years. That gave Lies Power.
Acceptance of the truth is what makes us free. But our..sorry my ego, my protective parts wanted to wrestle with them first, deny them any reality, deny I wasn’t ok, hide behind a mask, maybe it didnt piss me off, but parts of me were screaming inside.
Today. I see the book and smile. I see the book and realise the work. The journey ive been on and these last few weeks I seems to have a number of reasons to go back, birthdays do that dont they, as do Facebook memories, as do meeting people and being vulnerable with the story. So I see how I responded when confronted with the truth of what happened to me. So I see myself more clearly through that lens, and the behaviours I used to self soothe and survive and the consequent damage.
Today I sit and sense peace, I sense joy, i sense freedom. And in these things, to give and receive, to love, share and be loved. To be me.
The truth of me, that I am worth and deserving of love and happiness, also was something that would proverbially piss me off. But, again, it is the truth that loves is power, love from within heals, our bodies, minds and souls. It has done mine.
The Truth about Love, will set you free, but our wounded hardened selves might want to feel pissed off by it first.
Death and Resurrection, the ongoing day to day. Surrender and Acceptance.
The ‘and’, that gap between, full of tension, fear, worry and change. the Holy Saturday in the death and resurrection cycle.
On the same theme from Paulo Coelho’s new book, Maktub.
The Human Race has committed its worst crimes in the name of Truth.
Men and Women were burned.
Entire civilisations were destroyed
Those who committed sins of the flesh were cast out. Those who sought a different path were marginalised.
One of them was crucified in the name of the ‘truth’ but before he died he left a magnificent definition of Truth.
It isn’t what gives us certainties
It isn’t what gives us profound thoughts
It isn’t what makes us better than others
It isn’t what keeps us locked inside the prison of our prejudices
the Truth is what sets us free.
‘Know the truth’ he said, ‘and the Truth will make you free’
There was a time in July/August of last year when I was going through a pretty significant mental spiralling, down down and down. I was plagued by the bleak thoughts of self criticism, self sabotage, blame and self loathing, all things I realise I have been carrying since childhood, and all things triggered by events involving those people that brought all these things back to the surface (stuff that will remain private) . I would go as far to say that it was one of my biggest spirals, as instead of feeling numb to the pain and ‘I will survive’ which was my previous default, now I was feeling the feelings, and the voices were pretty strong.
I was digging deep, every day, sometimes every hour, felt like a struggle to get through. I knew a number of things though, one was that whatever I was going through was an opportunity for it to be revealed and for me to heal from. The other was that I had to remember in the midst of it all the tools that I had learned so far.
But my mind was in overdrive. Serious overdrive.
It felt like everything I was doing was in some way connected to the trauma, and so I was finding it a swirl just to try and ‘sit with my feelings’ and I didnt feel safe or strong in myself to appeal to the inner voice of sheer panic and pain.
I have written before about how I have needed to switch off from things, such as the news or TV (I am yet to watch or listen to the news on a TV or Radio in about 5 years), but what I was finding was that I was becoming seriously self absorbed, in a frightened alll consuming, can’t stop thinking, worrying, being anxious kind of way.
It was around about this time that I started to write my book. It was a different kind of writing to what I had been doing before, and it wasn’t just the process of writing but also finding a lovely cafe at Waterstones Darlington meant that I was in a different environment, around non threatening strangers and friendly safe books, all going a tiny way to giving my mind a break.
But this in itself, though creative, and positive, also involved energy, and though I found I could write at times, it could also lead to frustration when I found I couldn’t write or my mind was struggling to ‘un-focus’.
For much of the last 5 years I have mostly watched You Tube for my ‘entertainment’ . I struggle to watch films, and there’s something about the unfiltered, human creativity on you tube, from its documentaries, and human interest stuff that I like. My first encounters with it were to listen to music when I was studying, and in 2017-2018 I found railway You tube and especially people like Geoff Marshall and ‘All the Stations’ was a particular personal relaxation therapy gift, back in the day.
In the midst of the swirl of last year I was finding that I was struggling to find and have to desire to watch or read anything that was thoughtful or even involved learning , my brain had had enough, and yet I didn’t feel I could give myself permission to do nothing, honestly writing this now, but if you have been through depression and anxiety you will know what its like, its like the voices of criticism and responsibility not allowing me to do anything.
I had just watched a few train based challenge videos on YT and it was now suggesting that I might like what looked like a fairly goofy channel called ‘Jet lag; the game‘ in which it looked like they did races and challenges across various countries.
I dont remember the order or exactly what happened, but after a few days of noticing this suggestion I clicked it.
And then on one Saturday in late September (I think) I did nothing but watch four or five of the seasons and challenges. Three geeks (and often a 4th geek joining in) doing silly challenges, in competition, including travel and having fun, hard earned and tiring fun, with a whole load of jeopardy and unscripted coincidences.
Nothing else. No cleaning, no social media-ing, no writing, just making myself some food, and sitting watching Jet Lag. Nothing that required losing emotional energy, and yet, something that in doing ‘nothing’ was also restoring it, personal introvert time- yet but without the necessity of trying to ‘work stuff out’ or ‘process things’ or ‘understand what’s going on’ just rest. A gap. A rest.
And it was the mental break and gap my mind needed, one of the many things, but for one day this was it.
I can’t quite work out what the ‘correct’ balance it, but there is one, when I felt in the mental state that I was in. It had to be safe – so no heightened drama that I could be invested in or be triggered by abuse – it had to captivate in a way that meant I could be invested in it (its a competition, but done in a v friendly and respectful way), it was also creative and funny too. At least, it was for me. I could get lost in it, without it overwhelming me, I could enjoy it and appreciate it, and it could give my mind something to be engrossed in that didnt require personal internal work or feeling responsible. Im not sure if I have described the balance right, but I know that other things I was trying to watch or do or think, were either too open (going for a walk and processing), watching sport theory (there’s only so many times I can be captivated by Arsenals pressing system, and my team Man Utd, are too triggering, too many sociopaths involved too much drama on top of more drama) and somethings I had relegated to ‘boring’ like food review shows, only so many times I could watch someone eat.
Some times it’s important to find the thing. Or maybe, that thing in that moment finds us. I did not realise quite how ok it was to just allow myself to be not thinking and trying to process stuff. I am in a different place now, 6 months on, and im happy to sit and journal and colour, but im not sure I could have done that then.
For one almost entire weekend, I did nothing but watch Jet lag; the game, and it was the gap my mind required to not think, but just to curl up on the couch and just be. When we’re in the middle of ‘the thing’ it can be difficult to know what the thing is that we need, for me it was something wholesome and fun, safe and non threatening, but captivating too. It was me saying to my mind, back off, i’m in charge and i’m going to just watch this today, it was a gap in the mind.
Sometimes attending to our mental needs requires a whole load of things, one is to be so aware of what we are consuming and the energy of this on us, but also being able to give ourselves the mental power to tell our overactive minds to back off and rest. It could be something very different for you, and there are times when it can be something very different for me too, it can be walks and photography, it can be travel and writing, but on that weekend 6 months ago, what I needed was 3 geeks doing challenges, travelling and competitions, and the pure captivating enjoyment of fun, it may seem like nothing, but it retrospect it was so part of my healing process from such a dark period of my life.
(it goes without saying that I am not suggesting that watching Jet lag in a time of anxiety or depression is the only thing you should do to alleviate this, I was also about to start therapy also)
Talking about my book, if you would like to support me, you can do so at this link here, where you can give a one off or support me monthly as I write a book for boys and feelings. Thank you
When I was out walking during the week I was talking to a dog walker who was telling me about the Otters in Darlington on the main Skerne river, saying that the best time to see them was in the mornings. So I thought.
Ill get up fairly early, walk along the river, take some lovely photos of Otters, and this will be magical, and then head to my favourite coffee spot in town to then do some writing on my book.
So I did get up earlyish, after a not a bad nights sleep, ate breakfast and walked into town.
And along the river, from town all the way into South Park. And guess what.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Well, no otters anyway. No magic miracle for me today.
How long to wait? not very, just a walk down the river and back. No movements into the water (by anything different than a Mallard) and no movements in the bushes different to pigeons, doves, blue tits and a wren skuttling around.
So I left.
Disappointed.
And I got to my writing cafe in a low mood. Frustrated.
I mean, nature should be rewarding me for my efforts to find it surely?
Thats how it works?
And then I would feel the blessings of this magic moment and be inspired to write all day and do some great creativity. But instead I am writing this.
I am writing this, after I spent an hour just journaling about disappointment, and getting close to it.
Getting close to disappointment.
Unmet resentments, I deserved better from nature this morning, didnt I?
It’s not fair?
I was looking for a quick win, a solution
What was being shown to me, was another opportunity to just let be, to feel.
To not give the world the responsibility of adhering to my needs and wants, for the thing to be ‘the thing’
If only I saw an Otter then id be happy this morning?
If only X then Y
If my team wins, then that will give me a lift – that was basically my soothing strategy since 1990
along with the classic ‘ If only I prayed harder, or louder, then this would make things better’
But these are all shortcuts.
Bypasses.
So I sat in the cafe this morning. Writing out my pretty petty disappointment.
And heard that voice again.
That reminder of being loved and love not because of anything in the world, but because I just am. No-thing matters.
A reminder to let go, to surrender, to the patience of the magic.
The patience of self kindness, self compassion, of the journey of inner mystery and wholeness.
I attended my first ‘religious’ service for quite a long time yesterday, I haven’t gone to ‘church’ for a long while, though I used to, weekly. But yesterday in my team meeting, as I work for the methodist church, we shared communion. A number of the team brought something to share, including songs, poems and prayers, and we used the Celtic Daily Prayer liturgy, including, because it was the 1st February the reflections of St Brigid. It was a genuine moving experience, because it felt as though we were all spiritually and theologically in a very similar place, it was gentle, provocative and deep, reflective and peaceful.
Yet in the context of my inner healing journey, two phrases stood out.
I make the cross of Christ upon my breast
over the tablet of my hard heart
and I beseech the living God of the Universe,
may the Light of lights come to my dark heart
so that I may live in the power of your love.
Celtic Daily Prayer, Vol 1
The phrase stood out, because, it was what I believed.
I believed my heart to be dark. To be hard.
I believed that my core was full of selfishness, hatred and impurity
I believed that
I believed that for far too long.
I believed it so that I needed a Saviour.
But let me be fair on this one. Maybe this liturgy was written at a time when heart just meant ‘everything inside’ , and not ‘heart’ full of emotions and feelings, distinct from the mind. Maybe it was written from ignorance of ‘heart’ and not deliberation. Maybe, it was written by the powerful, who might struggle to open up their heart, and felt like a modern day Pharaoh (who it was said closed his heart/God closed it so that Moses had to return many times to let the Israelite slaves free). Maybe the ‘heart’ was something at the time of writing was misunderstood, maybe heart feelings/emotions was seen genuinely as dark – can I include a witchcraft reference here, for 1600’s Britain was rife with ‘sensitives’ or women deemed as witches who ‘sensed’ things. So the ‘heart’ could be feared, but it’s almost talking about cleansing a dark one, not calming a fired up one. Im just pondering. And I love the northumbria community, and contemplative practice.
Yet the Evangelical christian faith I grew up with was full of the dark heart stuff…
‘Dont let my heart grow cold’
‘Purify my heart’
And I get that there might be different/newer understandings of the relationship between our minds and hearts, our feelings, emotions and thoughts. I’ll reference a few TED talks below and other references are in my resource library. This is one of the best, by Lisa Feldman
There’s so many angles on this ‘dark heart narrative’ that I could reflect on, here are 4, briefly…
It lets our minds off scot free. Maybe the mind was seen as neutral, as dominant and unquestioned, the ‘heart’ can get the blame. The Heart may be hardened, and unable to feel, because the mind is making too much noise. It is the mind and its search for satisfaction for its thirsty ego that causes the most damage.
It causes us have less reverence for our inner workings and body. As many Spiritual people and mystic argue, spiritual awakening is through the body and not away from it (Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now), not outside of the body or in denial of it. It’s unlikely to produce wholeness and a fragmented/fractured sense of self and body.
It individualises the problem (if only I can get my hard heart to open/be more faithful/pray more/ do more church) rather than consider the external causes of these, and the body’s natural responses such in its need for self protection and survival. ‘It’s my cold/hard heart thats the problem, not the actual reality that ive been mistreated’ - an understanding of external stimuli/trauma here might be helpful.
Only God can save. Because my heart is so hard that there’s nothing in it to be able to love/care for myself… how does this marry up with being ‘wonderfully made in the image of God?’ Where is my heart then?
A heart is the source of emotions and feelings, which make us who we are, denying or hiding these is so so unhealthy.
There could be essays on all of these, and thats not for now.
My journey of healing, spiritually and emotionally has been a process of healing my inner self, including my body, and its wounded parts. Its been a journey in which, spiritually I have found the descriptions of the spiritual life, in Eckhart Tolle, Richard Rohr and John O Donohue to resonate deeply, and all take the body, the heart and the mind seriously and kindly in the process.
My heart wasn’t impure, dark or hard all along.
In fact, I needed my heart to be able to be self compassionate
I needed a heart to love, myself
I could love and care for myself
My heart just couldn’t feel
My heart had been stolen from
My heart had been broken
My heart had been wounded from birth
My heart had never been nurtured or protected, it had never been loved.
My heart had to be protected, sealed and enclosed – to protect myself
My heart wasn’t dark, it was there all along – being told that it was.
My heart could love and heal – as can yours
My heart just wanted to feel, to be healthy, to be part of me – just like yours does
My heart wanted safety to cry, feel and rage – just like yours
My heart was never dark.
It had had its flame squashed and buried
It was hiding underneath
It was screaming
It wasn’t ever dark – it was love all along.
It was me.
I had to begin the process of peeling gently back the layers and wounds, and I could only do that gently because of love and my heart. I had to learn to love my body, my heart and create safety for my feelings. Listening to my heart, listening to my core and what it needs. None of this would have been possible had I continued the pattern of believing I was broken and my heart was core to that brokenness.
May you be blessed with good friends
And you learn to be a good friend to yourself
Journeying to that place in your soul where
there is love, warmth and feeling
May this change you
John O Donohue, ‘For Friendship’; To Bless the space between us
James Ballantyne 