Tag: connection

The Real Privilege

My husband beings home the money so that we can raise our children with one parent as their solid continuum. Except he hasn’t been able to bring home the money for four months now.

The government has ‘supported’ us during this time of COVID-19 with less than a quarter of our monthly expenses (and I mean expenses not frivolity; food, bills, mortgage). We have taken a six month mortgage holiday. And we have had to swallow our pride and ask for money from family. Yet I still know how privileged we are, the fact that we have family to ask, that they are able to give. We are the lucky ones.

Not so a vast swathe of, not only the British population, but in fact the global population. Many of whom will now be facing dire poverty, starvation, homelessness and all the mental and physical health issues that come with those. It sickens me to my core to imagine how people who work hard, strive hard to support their families and loved ones have had this purpose snatched away from them with so little consideration for their plight.

It sickens me to hear people advocate for further limiting restrictions to protect their fears of illness and death. Even if we didn’t know at the beginning, we know now. This virus is over 99.5% survivable. This has been a lockdown of privilege beyond all proportion. It is for those that can comfortably exist without monthly income or can work from their laptops at home. It is for the celebrities hiding out in their estates and telling us to be good and kind people by following their orders.

The people who will come out of this farce and injustice unscathed are the most privileged people on the planet and they seemingly couldn’t give two hoots about the rest of the world. I don’t think I could bear to hear another ‘leader’ of our world pretend to care about the masses when it is so obvious that they only care about their own reputations and well being.

We have been discussing white privilege in society for some time now, but it is the same people that make a show of fighting for this cause that are now silent for those lives decimated by lockdown and the suppression of our liberties. Token gestures.

I am angry.

How have we come to this place where we can so comfortably destroy infinitesimally more lives than we have saved and still be convincing the general public to turn on each other in the name of common decency?

I spoke to six strangers at the farmers market today who were not aware of their rights around the ‘mandated’ rules and regulations. They were all in fear of fines and reprisals despite not approving of or believing in the ‘laws’.

I am fortunate enough to be tapped into a world where we remind each other of the ‘other’ truths, the other possibilities and options rather than that of the mainstream media. An industry that is dictated to by just five or six billionaires, so divorced from real life, it means nothing to them. We have become their pawns, to manipulate at will.

It’s time for the rebellion, for the resistance.

It’s time to explore your rights and hold on bloody tight to them without relinquishing them to the privileged powers that be.

Rise up! Rise up! Rise up!

All Black Lives Matter

I am listening. I am paying attention and what I am hearing is that not all black people support the Black Lives Matter movement.

That’s not to say they don’t value the lives of all black people, or POC, but I am hearing that some feel the movement places them in the space of victim. I heard one woman say, ‘I don’t want you to acknowledge you have white privilege, because that implies that I am underprivileged and I’m not. I don’t want to be put in that world of victim.’

I also have a dear friend whose beautiful, kind, thoughtful and honest boys are followed by security around their local supermarket because of the colour of their gorgeous skin and I feel deep sadness and anger about this. I hear both of these voices and many many more.

I am not writing this to argue the point either which way, nor am I in the place to, I wouldn’t assume that position because I am on some levels truly too ignorant.

What I do know is that I’m uncomfortable being told what to do to be a ‘good’ person. I’m uncomfortable being told my views and values can’t/shouldn’t be a certain way, words are wrong, actions are wrong because someone else says so.

I abhor racism and I stand by opportunity for all (I deliberately avoid the word equal because I don’t believe anything is equal and by trying to create something that fundamentally doesn’t exist we are forcing ourselves, as global neighbours, into some sort of rigid, inflexible paradigm that just ends in frustration and anger). I will raise my children to see and stand up for injustice. Yet I struggle with positive discrimination, doesn’t the work discrimination say enough? Energetically, this is not how I feel balance is restored.

My work is all about exploring the wounds in our lives that create ‘inhuman’ behaviour, be that abuse, control, depression, mania, sexism, racism et al. Because the police officer kneeling on George Floyd’s neck was acting in an inhuman way; murder is a divorcing from our soul. I stand with and support all those that want that sort of behaviour to stop, whatever the motivation; I want to help heal our world.

I don’t want to be shamed for doing it in a way that feels soulful to me, whether that’s blacking out my Instagram or not, donating or not. I know I am listening and learning and hearing more than just one narrative on this emotive and painful issue and we all have our own way to learn and path to take.

All black lives matter to me, the ones who support the movement, the ones who don’t. All lives matter to me, especially those that are struggling, unsupported, wounded and hurting. I stand with you all, but please remember to let me follow my own unique path, just like I would like to bear witness to yours without informing you how you should be.

Being told who we must be to be a ‘good’ human is ultimately so disconnecting and alienating, which is the opposite of what is trying to be achieved. This movement doesn’t represent ALL black people, there are multiple expressions, opinions and beliefs about how this world can heal and I want to be open to hearing them all.

I am listening, I am loving, I am here. That is enough.

I Forgot

I forgot, this lifetime, I forgot.

I forgot that I had reached for this experience, this human connection, this complicated love and loss.

I forgot.

I forgot that I will always return to light. That there is ultimate safety, connection, reassurance and blinding love, always; not just waiting but present just beyond the veil.

I forgot the veil and, for this lifetime, mistook it for darkness, emptiness and fear. I forgot that it is as thin as gauze, transparent, alive, available and here. Whenever I need.

I sat here wondering how I would survive if my beautiful family, my wondrous children somehow weren’t anymore. That fear clutched at me and I thought for a moment that love could disappear, that it could be lost or broken. But I had simply forgotten.

It can never be lost or broken or far away; only forgotten.

All it takes is to remember.

Not Wrong, Just Different.

I have previously touched on the principle of requiring a circle, or village, of relationships to fulfil our needs.  The idea that just one or two people should or are able to hold and carry the multifarious requirements of one full lifetime of human experience is perhaps the crux of many problems.

In fact this principle has become such an obsession that the trend on social forums is to instruct each other on how to respond or be responsive towards each other. There are plentiful descriptions about ‘how to be a good friend/partner/parent/boss’ with minute instructions on what makes you good or bad; pass or fail….

But what this neglects to take into account is the principle of difference. That we are all wonderfully, uniquely varied in our gifts, attributes, strengths and, naturally, weaknesses and flaws too.

One of the most resonate compliments that my husband gives to me is that I am someone who always believes there is a way through; that there is a solution somewhere, somehow. And I do. I really believe nothing is insolvable, more deeply on an emotional level but practically too! So whilst I have realised that rescuing and saving people is dis-empowering (okay, I still do it as a sideline occasionally!), I am a great person to come to if you need some ideas, some guidance about what options might be out there to help you on your journey. If you don’t want any of that, if you want just to be heard in total silence and reverence… I might not be the best fit for the job. But here’s the critical point… that doesn’t make me wrong.  I am not going to be Jack of all Trades, good at everything, nor do I want to be. I want to be really good at things that come naturally and instinctively to me, I want to hone my skills and work towards mastery.

So what happens if you are in need of someone who is not going to even think of voicing a solution but is killing the strong and silent thang… then find that person.

Create the circle, create your own village.

I have one friend who talks nineteen to the dozen, I can barely get a word in edgewise and she is not someone that I am going to go to when I really need and want to be heard about soulful shit!  But I adore her company, she is light and engaging and kind and funny and zingy and all sorts of wondrousness…… she is very much a part of my circle and I need that energy in my life. Imagine if everyone in my life was an intense as me?! Insanity!

Now imagine if I made her wrong for being that way… imagine if I said to her ‘you never really listen to me’, ‘I don’t think you are being sensitive to my needs’, ‘please could you reflect back to me my words so that I really know you have heard me’…. I believe it would crush her and it would certainly crush our friendship. I would be trying to mould her into something that really doesn’t fit in her skin, trying to create her into something else whereas I could simply be accepting and enjoying all the gifts that she does bring.

Of course this doesn’t mean we can’t ask for what we need, consider each other’s perspectives and feelings and reflect on our own behaviour, but within that there is a place to see whether our specific needs of the moment are going to be best met and by whom. I once asked a friend, who had gone silent on my for 6 weeks, that if next time she was pissed with me she could just tell me about it rather than hit the mute button; she told me in no uncertain terms that I shouldn’t ask her to change or be different. Fair enough, she was not going to meet my needs or requirements in that side of our friendship. That was actually a deal breaker for me, I do need my circle to be upfront and clear about when I’ve done something to upset them, and I chose to walk away from that friendship for that reason, but that wasn’t about making either of us wrong, just that we weren’t a good fit.

I used to ask too much of my husband (perhaps still do!) under this principle of ‘he who must be able to support every which side of me’… until I realised what absurdity this truly was. I started to widen my circle and increase the array and variety of friendships, mentors and crazys who help all my facets sparkle as I hope I do in return. And with this choice, there is the potential to free my husband from feeling like somehow he is failing me, or not enough for me, and instead allows his own highlights to shimmer.

I would love to see this embracing of each other’s gifts and strengths replacing the homogenising pressure that social media is trying to instil through shame directed memes and articles.  Yes, walk away from those who don’t support you, whilst being careful not to dismiss those that might not be what you need for right now yet their gifts and skills might be everything to you come tomorrow, the new moon or the new decade. We are all personally responsible for seeking out our own joy, friendship and healing rather than insisting it is performed for us by the demands we set on others. Let each of us shine and glorify each other and celebrate the magical complexities of human nature. We are not wrong, we are just different.

The Other Voice

When my son was two, he was hit in the face by a beach swing in Thailand and lifted clean off the ground, resulting in a deep (though thankfully small) cut just underneath his right eye. Armed with steri-strips, cleansing alcohol and Arnica, I cleaned him up, stuck him back together and smothered him with kisses, cuddles and boob!

Even with all my loving care he still looked like he’d been 10 rounds in a MMA ring and of course garnered lots of sympathy and questions from all sorts of strangers.

One Thai man came up super close to me, whilst I was carrying my son, touched his face and said something along the lines of: ‘You are very lucky, he could be blind, you need to be more careful, so close to his eye, he could have lost his eye….’  Well, you can imagine!

This was nearly five years ago and yet what that man said came to me just last week in a moment of clarity and understanding. I replayed it in my head and a monumental epiphany smacked me hard in the solar plexus.

This man was MY other voice.

The tsunami of ‘other’ voices swiftly followed; memories, reactions, hurtful & potent words or comments. All those people I have met so far along my path, whose words felt tough to integrate (good & bad), they were all just different parts of my consciousness being expressed to me loud and clear.

When that Thai man spoke to me that day, my reaction was defence. I smiled, nodded and moved quickly away; I didn’t want to hear and more importantly I didn’t want to consider that possibility that we just so nearly missed. But he was expressing my deepest fears, he was mirroring back to me the heart-stopping moment when I saw my son’s injury and all that could have been. By rejecting it, it has slept silently in the recesses of my mind to pop up now and again in moments of anxiety or fretfulness.

Now I can look at it from another angle; I can embrace it, acknowledge it, own it.

And with that comes the potential to own all of what triggers me in another’s reaction to me. When I rail against, I am only fighting myself. We are all one consciousness; one global thought with layers upon layers of truths and lies and hopes and fears.

With that solar plexus punch I realised how deeply we are all truly connected. ‘We Are One’ is not trite patter but rich and nuanced and soulful.

Imagine if each and every time we felt that defence or trigger in hearing another perspective, we reached inside and owned it as a part of us. We do not have to live it, act it or be it, but simply acknowledge that within us all we hold the infinite potentials, the full spectrum of human nature. Within us is the possibility of our worst and best selves, by embodying that we get to choose which ones to be.

I’ll Always Worry

Twice this week, I have had comments laid at my feet that somehow my expression of mother concern is ‘too much’.

Now I agree that helicopter / smothering mummy is not a good look, nor indeed a healthy option, but judging a mama for being a mama…. now that’s just insanity.

I am always going to worry if my kids have got the right clothes when the weather changes and I’m not there. I am always going to worry that these fragile dynamics of friendships, as they twist and turn into their own unique beings, are upsetting or hurting them. I am always going to worry whether they are getting the right balance of nutrition as I insist on chicken broth and treat them with ice cream.  I am always going to worry about those times when I said ugly words or shouted too loud, that perhaps broke them a little. I am always going to worry if I’m doing the best for my children, holding strong boundaries and gifting freedom of spirit.

It’s my job.

I’m a mama.

So please don’t tell me to relax, or step back or any of those casual utterances that seem to belittle my role. Because more than anything, you don’t see how much I hold my tongue when they tell me about the kid at school who slaps or whispers; how I look at their naked limbs in the icy wind and remind myself that it’s their body; or how much guilt I feel for not knowing what I know now!

You do not see how much I let them go when I ache to hold them tight; that I find ways to help them explore risk and adventure when my heart is beating hard in my throat.

And when I spew my anxieties out it’s in order to clear them from my energy so that I can return to them with calm, thoughtfulness and courage.

I have worried myself into some awesome choices and discoveries as a mother. My worries have pushed me to find the hidden solution, the alternative avenue and the unique path that is creating my family.

But more than anything, these crazy, wonderful beings grew in my tummy (and even if they hadn’t), blew my world and my mind wide open to the glorious intensity of mother love and I am proud to worry about them; excited to have the responsibility of their blossoming souls; and utterly & blissfully surrendered to the knowledge that they will be front and foremost in my mind and heart for the very rest of my days.

I’ll always worry and I make no apologies for that. I have been blessed with this extraordinary job of mother and worrying is  just one small and important part of a truly magnificent whole.

Seeing Love

I advocate passionately & reverently for the resurrection of our ancient wisdom supported by modern research of neurological development; together these detail how responding to the animalistic, biological and psychological needs of our children is integral, not only to their own solid emotional, spiritual & physical health, but also to forming the foundations of a healthy society.

Everything I write about, read about, talk about, dream about draws back to this core. The requirements that reach beyond basic survival and into the depths of humanity and soul.

So I am hyper aware of the impact of my own behaviours and ancestral baggage on myself as a parent, friend, wife and therapist. I could read nuances into each word or facial reaction; I could demand that the circle around my family be restricted to only those conscious of their own wounds; I could attempt to micromanage each and every influence that enters my domain. This would all be very understandable when my heart understands the subtle ramifications that can come from the slightest tremor.

Of course this would also likely lead me to the edge of insanity, trying to control the world and environment to a place of perfection; on top of which it is hardly a good model for my children, friends or clients to ape resilience, compassion, growth, personal choice, understanding and a gazillion other amazing qualities that come from meeting conflicting ideas or ideology.

But what really hit home to me today, was that most of all I would miss seeing love in all its forms. It’s so easy to believe love comes in the form that I feel and express it in, but love is offered in a myriad of weird and wonderful ways that can only be found by opening our heart to the intention with which things are brought.

When I read articles detailing how one is supposed to be a ‘true friend’ or a ‘modern partner’, for example: don’t offer advice unless it is asked for; respect my boundaries at all times; don’t use emotionally sensitive language without first checking for permission; don’t use physical touch without explicit approval….

This…. this drives me batty. If I took all this on board I would be have to be the worst ever friend. Except I’m not. I’m a good friend and I frequently offer advice without first checking because that is one of my primary ways to show and express my love (Acts of Service). I am able, mostly, to perceive if my advice is unwanted and shut up, but not everyone is and yet they might still be offering the very depths of their love. Other people might smother people with hugs and kisses when actually space is wanted; perhaps there are friends that come and tidy up your house leaving you feeling a bit slovenly in their company; others can be effusive with their words, showering you with compliments and affirmations that to you feel hollow and meaningless; another might buy you a gift when all you really wanted was them not to cancel the plans.

It is so so so easy to see the worst in people rather than the best. It is so easy to miss love.

Do I want my world to be a microcosm of connected, joyful and loving intention? Absolutely. Is that going to be reflected if I limit that to just those that follow my form? Boundaries are important, safety is important but should they come at the expensive of seeing the true depths of someone’s heart and intention? Isn’t this world crying out for more love not less?

Today I offered my love to someone and it was utterly rejected, it wasn’t in the right form for them and they reacted to it negatively rather than positively, and I thought of all those people in the world that are getting shouted down, shut down or ignored for showing love in the ‘wrong way’. Awareness, consciousness and growth are beautiful potentials that bloom more powerfully when wrapped in compassion, forgiveness and understanding.

Yesterday, I told off my eldest for yabbering to my youngest when he had so clearly asked for space and quiet, today I see how she was just offering love….

Today I am seeing love.

Our Achilles

Yesterday, I watched the podcast between Russell Brand and Brene Brown and loved it, of course. 

Totally my thing, discussions on vulnerability and spirituality, boundaries of steel and the state of our global society. Meaningful, heartfelt, humourous and enlightening. 

I was nodding happily along to it all right up until the last five minutes when Russell asked Brene’s advice on parenting. And then I was thrown. 

I was thrown, not only because Brene’s advice was so contrary to my own views (and that is totally ok btw, this is not a judgement conversation) but because her philosophy to parenting seemed so opposed to the rest of her OWN philosophy. 

Let me extrapolate, my understanding of her work on vulnerability and shame can also be looked at through the lens of control. Vulnerability being the release of control and shame protection being all about control.  And yet here I was hearing Brene recommend what she called ‘choice parenting’ or Choice Theory. The principle of which is to give the children a choice to make…  the basic premise being to continue with their ‘unacceptable’ behaviour and face a consequence OR stop.

Again, I want to hold this discussion without judgement but as a musing of ideas. 

I frequently use choice with my kids but with certain differences. Occasionally I use it because something is non negotiable usually to do with physical or emotional safety. More often than not I use it to get my own way, for example ‘please close your mouth whilst your eating or I will have to take away your ice cream’. This is control. 

I know it, I recognise it and I really really try not to do it because ultimately I am inflicting my utterly subjective values on someone else. Another important element to this principle is age appropriateness and development, what age are children able to understand and rationalise choice? When I heard Brene discuss constructive choice offers with wayward teens, there may still be  background (and necessary?) control but I get that it can create immediate mediation and lead to thoughtful discussions. However when suggesting offering a choice to a tantrum-ing 2/3 year old – calm down or we leave the restaurant, I baulk. That is not a choice a small person can make fairly nor is it in anyway modelling vulnerability. 

With the very best of intentions, work and graft, I moderate my feelings to be thoughtful and kind but when I get utterly overwhelmed by life’s happenings they sometime go awry. Sometimes I lose my temper, sometimes I’m just a bit grouchy and snappy. I have ‘a choice’ in how I express these yet frequently my thinking choice is retrospective, it comes after the event (I blame my Italian ancestry and Scorpio birth alignment – I maybe just a touch fiery at times!). When my feelings overwhelm me, I make a point of reflecting on them, being vulnerable about their root cause and making amends. Because I’m human and flawed and that’s ok. 

Now if I, as a fully qualified and fairly reasonable adult, have moments of overwhelm, what can we expect of our little ones? Sure they may need to be taken out of a restaurant for a cuddle and calm down, to help them re centre and restore their spirit, but isn’t the ‘choice’ of removing them permanently, as a consequence of being totally vulnerable, not only punishing and shaming but also almost impossible for them to process?!?

Do you feel the contradiction like I do? 

But this isn’t about making Brene wrong because she and I are both making parenting choices from our very best intentions despite our differences. It’s about our Achilles Heel. 

It about the fact that we all have one; we can be so utterly clever and kind and wise and human and also make choices that contradict ourselves, are incongruent, flawed and bizarre. 

I didn’t come away from this podcast thinking less of Brene (although I did yearn to speak to Russell about my perspective too!), I actually came away thinking more of her. She became more relatable and more real to me and absolutely more attainable as a vision for myself. 

I don’t have any academic qualifications (zip, nada, none) so I am easily cowed to believe that I have nothing to validate my viewpoint or opinion, despite instinctively feeling that actually I have some cool things to share. 

Watching the podcast yesterday reminded me that it’s not about the degrees and letters after the name but simply about the conversation, Achilles and all.

So let’s keep talking… 

Dumped On

So I was recently dumped on.

Emotionally speaking. 

This week I have had three hugely frustrating conversations with various customer service representatives from three vastly different companies. All of them were unable to satisfy my enquiry because of company policy/beliefs. And with one I got a bit arsey until I brought myself into check and reminded myself that he is simply the spokesperson or, frankly, not even that, the automaton for the company. It was not his fault. 

And then it happened to me. 

Someone had issues with the bigger cogs of a wheel I was representing and took me out in their frustration. Everything that I was doing was wrong and causing them distress. And then they got personal too and started the whole ‘other people think this too’ about me. That I’m not doing things in the best way, that I’m not diplomatic or something enough. That I am too abrupt. 

Yup. I can be. And I have spent years beating myself up on ‘not being enough’ and I spent a few days holding this energy that was hurled at me; dumped on me. 

And then I remembered that I’m ok. That I am a good person, even if I am sometimes abrupt. I am kind even if I not ALWAYS diplomatic. That I am allowed to be human and flawed and that when someone is dumping, that is their shit to deal with. 

As Tosha Silver said is her fabulous new book ‘It’s not your Money’: ‘This event may indeed have been Divinely orchestrated… I was even grateful to the curt lady who’d hurt my feelings. If I’d hated her, I would have missed the whole point.’

And this was me, I could hate the woman for dumping AND feel shit about myself or I could take the opportunity to recognise my vulnerability to this sort of judgement, take a deep breath and restore my soul. 

All of it is a gift. All of it is a lesson worth learning. 

And breathe…..  

In the absence of

I wrote a meme on Instagram recently reminding the world that boys are beautiful too. This came after my son had told me that he must be ugly because everyone told his sister how beautiful she was but no one ever said it to him.

No one had ever told him he was ugly, but in the absence of compliments that he witnessed his sister receiving, this was the conclusion he had arrived at. It was heartbreaking to hear, something to counter as best as we can at home, and also enlightening to realise what absence can create. 

Just a couple of weeks ago, I sat in circle with women to train and learn about holding space for the mother-daughter connection as our daughters move into puberty and early womanhood. One of the aspects we explored was how our menses was presented to us as we reached that stage, what messages had we been given through this process. Many of us had received very pragmatic, seemingly healthy, non threatening, non shaming, black and white details about our 5 day bleed; but what we realised in this discussion is that there had been an absence. An absence of honouring, welcoming and ritualising this transitional passage.  How differently we could have felt about our years of bleeding, about birthing our children and about the final rites of menopause if there had been a deep acknowledgement of the magical nature of our wombs. 

And then there has been the research into why the African American community have higher dysfunction statistics, particularly for their young boys. A strong correlating theme is that so often there are absent fathers. Absence again. 

I can see how easy it is to think we can ignore a vacuum, replace it with other, or simply paper over the empty space; but what is becoming clear to me is that absence brings its own complications and is just as important to consider, in order to create balance and happiness, as presence. 

The loss of our rituals and spiritual practices as community, the absence of connection in the busy-ness of modern life. These are creating impactful dynamics that are having significant and long lasting effects. 

A friend has recently become aware of the absence in his life; missing music, creativity for its own beauty rather than purpose or monetary intent. By consciously bringing back these elements the pendulum of his life shifts and the pressure and negatively that spirals into depression is weighed up more evenly, more gently. 

I remember that well from my own educational experience; a solid private education with all the benefits that academia ‘should’ offer for a successful life. And yet in my 20’s I craved the exploration of creativity that had been deemed so frivolous and unnecessary for our modern world. 

Until the lack is restored, there will always be a hole that needs filling, an ache, a feeling, a passion, a rite, a love. Absence is a piece missing; a part of the jigsaw of whole.