I have been on my high horse quite a lot recently.
I have been quite opinionated about how Covid should have been dealt with, what ‘they’ should have done differently, how propaganda is being used to ‘correct’ conspiracy theories, and how millions of bits of ‘misinformation’ is being pulled from social media platforms by WHO and other influential organisations.
The ‘news’ (should be called the ‘olds’) is made up constant and repetitive arguments for and against measures to tackle the pandemic, with opposing views on lockdown restrictions, mask wearing, testing, vaccinations. The daily numbers of deaths, hospitalisations and infections plays into the already high levels of fear and paranoia, helping increase the stress that puts people more at risk of mental and physical illness.
We are so stuck in ‘content’, and opinions about what is definitively right or wrong, that we can’t see the wood for the trees. Whether it was years of arguments for and against Brexit, repeated narrative about the Corona virus, or addressing our own more personal conflicts of what foods are ‘good’ or ‘bad’ for example, we are looking at these issues from the wrong perspective.
Instead of getting caught up in opposing sides, trying to extrapolate the ‘truth’ from the mass of information available or trying to extract ourselves from the emotional hooks that are fed to us, we need to learn how to discern for ourselves, in any given moment, what feels right to us, and what action, if any, that needs to be taken.
And we can only do that by taking time out from the madness, slowing down to hear our own wisdom, being still enough to listen to what is needed, moment by moment.
We don’t have to have a set-in-stone opinion, a fixed view, black or white thinking.
Instead of passively toeing the party line, or dogmatically opposing the majority view, let’s tap into our own knowing.
If we can learn to access the deeper space within us, the unconditional, universal loving consciousness that we are part of, and made of, it will remind us that Life is intelligent. We might see that perhaps the virus is addressing the imbalance that we have created, that it is helping us to adapt to where we find ourselves, and will show us what we can each do, at every turn.
Perhaps we will see that we have been too caught up in our thinking, blindly reacting rather than observing, taking action rather than allowing Life to show us the way.
And if we can start to live like this, if we can start to respect our own intuition, our own internal guidance, we can be role models for our children. By reclaiming our individualism, tapping into our unique gifts and talents and following our insights we can learn how to find our place in the global community. We could come up with solutions that have a greater, far-reaching impact, where our fear that causes us to accuse people of ‘selfishness’, doesn’t even exist.
Rather than short-term sticking plasters, where we avoid the greater selfishness of interfering with Nature’s way, of blocking its own stabilising self-correcting mechanisms, we connect to something bigger, more harmonious, more life enhancing.
By stepping aside from the arguing, the blaming and criticising, even for brief moments, we are allowing the possibility of something different. Something gentler, more compassionate, more conscious. Something that brings us closer rather than drives us apart, that connects rather than divides.
Each person’s actions, or outlook, will be neither ‘right’ nor ‘wrong’, just perfect for them, for their circumstances, for their timing. By taking time to be still, to be silent, to rest in not knowing, we may be moved to take a small step that is seemingly unrelated to the rest of the world’s problems, but which has an impact that ripples out to those around us - whether a kind word, a commitment to less waste, an idea for a new creative project, a helping hand, or a discovery that may revolutionise the way we live.
So next time I catch myself justifying my opinions I will endeavour to get off my high horse and practice a bit of humility, stepping into a more loving space of peace and possibility.
I may just smile and make myself a cup of tea.
At my sixth birthday party I was sent to my room for ‘showing off’. As a child I was expected to be ‘seen and not heard’. At school I was thrown out of class for talking and at home I was told to ‘pipe down’. When I was excited about something and wanting to tell my parents I was told, ‘not now, we’re busy’.
It wasn’t only my joyful exuberance that I was admonished or punished for. It was not acceptable to be angry, I was told off for sulking, and a common mantra in my household was ‘don’t argue’.
I learnt to keep things to myself, to hide what I was feeling for fear of rebuke or disapproval. It was easier to keep quiet than rock the boat. My interests and curiosity went underground and I became secretive. I took to journaling as a way of recounting my daily activities and recording how I felt. I became more insular and isolated, unable to share, and I used food to stuff down my feelings.
As an adult I would find myself in situations where I thought I was taking up too much of people’s time, where I felt that I was talking too loudly, or too much.
When I did share my latest interest or curiosity I felt strangely uncomfortable, as if in uncharted territory, my breathing shallow and my talking faster than normal. Almost as if it was dangerous and I was going to be ‘found out’.
This inability to share what is going on, the withdrawal and shutting down, can have an adverse effect on all areas of our lives. We stop asking for what we need, we think that what we feel doesn’t matter, and we don’t offer our gifts to the world.
My conditioning, a legacy of Victorian morals, was pretty common. Its impact was profound and, despite the less draconian values today, many of us still believe that we need to maintain a stiff upper lip, not put our heads above the parapet, keep ourselves to ourselves and not boast about our achievements. Sharing how we feel can be further limited by our fears that we might be seen as needy, dependent, weak, self-absorbed, or high maintenance.
All of these constrictions limit our healthy functioning in the world and keep us half the people we could and should be. Denying both our joys and our challenges - by not expressing ourselves, by not sharing - can keep us small, make us unwell, prevent us from connecting with others, increase loneliness and contribute to mental illness. These are all very real states, with serious physical and emotional consequences to ourselves, those close to us, and our communities.
Whereas I used to judge people who ‘put themselves out there’ as trying to get attention, or stealing the limelight, I can see now that they are simply being themselves, sharing their talents in ways that they love and having fun along the way. Expressing what is important to them, honouring what really matters, sharing their joy and reaching out to others is a healthy way to live.
Inherent in our self-expression is an exploration of our own process. Whether through art, or theatre, cooking, or writing, we grapple with what we want to convey, and what we want to impart. We create a space in which other, more worldly, stuff can enter, and somehow open that up to others too. We can access a deeper place when we share or create, one that goes beyond the form - an energetic reality that fills us and permeates the space outside of ourselves. Our work is imbued with, and informed by, an inner wisdom that is also received by others.
Expressing ourselves includes acknowledging our deepest, darkest fears and perceived flaws. Admitting to them leads to greater acceptance. Shining a light on them makes them less frightening, more normal. The more vulnerable we can be, the more honestly we can describe our feelings and reactions, the more authentic we become and the easier it is to navigate our lives.
The need to express is simply an energy that needs to move through us, presented by means of movement, art, sound, touch, activities.
If not expressed it doesn’t go away.
It is not up to us to understand it, analyse it or know how to do it. We simply need to respond, in the moment, to whatever is arising.
Getting it out is worlds apart from bottling it up.
The result of sharing is a release, a letting go, a feeling of calm, the dissipation of the energy that needed to move, the dissolving of held-in emotions.
Sharing is a form of creation. For some there is a vision, to make visible or audible or tangible, to create in reality a concept or an idea. But for all of us the act of sharing is in itself the creation - the making of marks, the writing of words, the voicing of sounds. Transient, temporary, an evolving into something deeper, or different. It might seem that there is little point if nothing is going to be ‘produced’, nothing achieved.
But imagine this energy having nowhere to go. Being suppressed, simmering under the surface, finally exploding when all outlets have been blocked. Or causing total shutdown, paralysis, depression. If not acknowledged or allowed, the effects of not expressing our deepest urges can come out in unhealthy, destructive ways. Self-harm, violence to others, frustrations meted out in everyday life, withdrawal from the world, and even suicide or murder in the most extreme cases.
Sharing ourselves, our art, our process does not need to involve others but can be a way of sharing with ourselves, expressing what we want to say in the privacy and safety of our own space. We can use our writing as a form of listening. Of hearing ourselves. Of acknowledging what is going on for us, a way of slowing down and seeing what is actually here.
We may have to do this before being able to show up in the wider world. As we gain confidence, as we see the benefits, as we feel different, we can start to open up in front of others, to a wider audience.
Start small. Jot down a few notes on a scrap of paper, sing along to a track on the radio, try a few dance moves. Start safe – at home, alone, where people don’t see you, where you can’t be criticised or ridiculed. Sense how it changes the way you feel, see the difference in your state of mind.
It has taken me a long time to know that it was not me that was wrong when I was sent to my room. It was the suppression of my natural energy, my me-ness, that was fundamentally wrong. My deepest core knew it too, my body reacting with an intense anger that belied all rationality.
Learn to listen to your impulses and express your unique selves however you are moved to.
Let Life live through you, unimpeded.
Yesterday I experienced a break in an old pattern.
I’m not even sure even how it happened really.
But the result was a beautiful, felt sense, of peace.
Although for some people this period of lockdown has provided an opportunity to slow down, it also appears that the frenetic activity and continual busyness with which we conduct our lives on the ‘outside’ has simply been replaced with frenetic activity on the ‘inside’. We can fill our days with Zoom yoga, online choirs and virtual dinner parties, or watch hours of entertainment broadcast from celebrity homes.
There is a suggestion, an insistence almost, that we use this time in isolation ‘constructively’, that we don’t ‘waste’ the opportunity to learn a new skill or complete a new project or make some worthwhile contribution. Whether it is Mari Kondo-ing our cupboards, chucking out junk from the garage, or producing some masterpiece, we have to have achieved something in order to make this period count.
I am no different. I often crave an empty diary in order to have time to relax and undertake creative pursuits at a leisurely pace. But in practice this never happens. There is always a long list of things that I am having to continually ‘work’ on, various projects and interests that are always in the background, projects which can never be finished because they include ongoing learning and practice.
None of them are urgent, yet I carry them out with a driven quality not commensurate with the task, with a sense of urgency that allows no let up and which robs me of the enjoyment of doing things for the sheer joy of it.
Yesterday I simply realised that all I needed to do was choose, in moments of free time, what I wanted to spend my time on at that time. If anything.
And this revelation has had the most remarkable effect on me.
It has taken away all constraints, all time pressures, all intended outcomes. Every burden that I put on myself has been lifted, all expectations have disappeared. I can simply do whatever I enjoy, for its own sake! I don’t have to market my book, I don’ t have to spend hours learning how to use complicated software, I don’t have to get better at anything and I don’t have to achieve anything!
With this extreme clarity came the most beautiful space of nothingness, of peace and calm that I rarely experience normally.
I found myself doing everything slowly, with awareness, paying attention to the smallest detail with a child-like curiosity. Needing nothing. Revelling in the delights of each moment.
And within that space came an excitement, a recognition of what it feels like to simply play and be spontaneous, an inkling of a different way of being in the world.
Intellectually, with hindsight, I might say that what I experienced was perhaps a return to our unconditioned state, where our natural self-expression is unhampered by concepts and beliefs and ‘shoulds’ and ‘oughts’.
Whatever it was, however fleeting, the meaning of ‘A Space to Be’ seems to be taking on yet another dimension. It’s as if, rather than needing the space that I am always craving, to fill with something, it’s the space itself that I have been craving.