Inner wild liberation « inner wild therapy

10/06/2010

Nature: is it in your nature?

Do you think about yourself in relation to nature around you? What is your relationship with nature?

Are you intertwined like ancient roots or curved branches? Do you blend in? Are you detached?

I have just realized that the more I am in nature, the more I details I notice and the more supported I feel.

Yes. I was going to say ‘healed’ and there is that too. But it’s supported that I mean. And feeling supported, as my extraordinary homoeopath once told me, is the number one most important factor in anyone’s healing.

Last night I noticed that the bees were still busy caring for the pinky-purple flowers of the giant rhododendron trees in our back garden as dusk was darkening thickly around them and the wind was gusty and hard. Yet even with their aerodynamically-absurd tiny wings and big, fluffy bodies the bees kept going.

Suddenly I’m thinking the quickening dark is an analogy for depression and that bees are a wild inspiration to us for mindful activity in the face of impending mental angst.

I am seeing these kind of tiny, potent metaphors and analogies everywhere I look in nature now.

It’s quite overwhelming.

It’s like I knew all this but now I am being shown, blinkers off, eyes wide open.

I’m frightened yet thrilled. Like when a child asks for some “danger” within the safety of a familiar, loved story.

Something has just occurred to me. Many years ago I was diagnosed with ‘acute reactive clinical depression’. I might talk about this another time but the point I want to make now is that after being referred to said homoeopath above by a clinical psychologist (obviously a very evolved one, huh?) and being given a remedy in high potency I still remember coming out of depression.

I was hanging clothes on the washing line, sun shining and there it was – my first HAPPY moment in months.

A single happy moment. Unbidden. Arriving during a simple, productive task.

Cherished.

What I‘ve just remembered now is how noticing nature galvanized that moment for me and gave it more momentum.

I heard a wild, flapping, buzzing noise from the bush next to me and upon examination I saw – argh – horror moment coming – a praying mantis biting the head off a huge, noisy cicada which was still flapping its wings trying to get away.

It appears praying mantis and cicadas don’t suffer depression at all. Although maybe they feel rather odd and unbalanced after landing on a pesticide-dripping plant.

I remember thinking, ‘Hey, I’m not dead!’.

I feel we have lost much of the support of nature, the bracing perspective it gives us, and the multifarious, analogous aids we have in seasons, plants, birds, animals – aids we can easily find in every living thing if we simply look.

I think we humans have simply taken it all for granted, simply not really noticed it and furthermore we’ve been hugely attracted, like bees to blue plastic flowers, to gadgets and gizmos and fripperies that provide saccharine nectar for us which doesn’t sustain and nurture us but gives us hedonistic, too-quick highs and cravings for more.

Don’t get me wrong, I am as easily seduced by shiny as you or anyone else. But now I am feeling a different seduction that’s much more rewarding. A primal craving. And a deeper level of satisfaction.

I’m Noticing Nature.

Feeling supported by it.

Which in turn makes me Notice Nature more.

And feel ever more supported.

Why should this be such a surprise to me when it’s in my nature? Is it in your nature too?

Image “Forget Not” above borrowed from Mae Chevrette Art – Original Paintings and Mixed Media. You can buy this and other art such as “In the Sea” and “The Love You Make” oh, and “To Be Brave” from Mae’s Etsy store. Thank you for making the world more beautiful Mae.

29/05/2010

Hello authentic life

Yesterday I talked a little about how we could all be more ourselves – the individuals we are – and feel more empowered instead of running around like Loraxes.

But how exactly to do that? How do you live your authentic life?

First of all, you are an individual. It follows that your life ought to be one based on your individuality. You are not just a person in the system, a potential customer, a consumer or one of the target market. Yet so many of us are unwittingly brainwashed and just bob along with the waves of patterns of behaviour that move around the ocean of our populace.

It seems to me that while most people understand we have free choice – and so many less fortunate people in the world do not have this essential foundation of a free society – they don’t use their free choice. (However, there are anomalies in our society, for example, parents-to-be in New York have no choice about whether to have their baby at home or not.)

Free will and free choice means we have the luxury of being more conscious of the tiny as well as big choices we make every day.

Each choice has a consequence. When we choose carefully and thoughtfully, when we ask ourselves what we want to do instead of just automatically doing what we think society wants us to do, we instantly empower ourselves.

The more we listen to our inner Self, and act on our intuition, the stronger we feel, and co-incidentally happier. The more we consciously strip away unnecessary things by de-cluttering, creating breathing space in our lives, being more mindful, honoring the things that make us feel good and doing more of them, the more authentic our lives will be. Our lives reflect who we are.

So in the hope of inspiring you, I gave myself 15 minutes to write a little stream-of-consciousness list of my ways of authentic living – practical choices I’ve made and continue to make that have helped me strip away layers of accidental falsity and live a more fulfilling life.

Hello authentic living –

Hello handmade, nature, wilderness and conscious living. Hello make-do-and-mend and minimalism. Hello connecting with my community and guerrilla gardening. Hello buying local produce and seasonal food.

Hello stripping away unnecessary things, including people and ideologies. Hello looking at bees and butterflies instead of watching them on TV. Hello letting children feel free and safe and able to play without adult supervision and interference.

Hello walking instead of driving. Hello knowing more about my family and friends than I do about celebrities and TV characters. Hello Waldorf / Steiner education and toys made of things that once lived like wool and wood. Hello not window-shopping and buying into retail persuasion.

Hello wearing the same dress I wore ten years ago because I love it (fashion doyen, Vivienne Westwood would approve). Hello making your own clothes, buying vintage clothes, revamping your old clothes, buying clothes from charity shops and expressing your individuality through the clothes you wear.

Hello being indecisive so you are always open to something new happening. Hello being spontaneous and going with that whole “who moved the cheese” thing.

Hello learning to be storytellers again instead of always reading books. Hello buying online direct from artists and creators on Etsy instead of big brand manufacturers. Hello upcycling and finding new uses for things we might otherwise throw away. Hello guitars around campfires, sleeping under the stars and taking courses like Guy Mallinson’s woodland camps.

Hello farmers markets and people raising animals and crops the old-fashioned, expensive way. Hello curative classical homoeopathy and the slow movement. Hello creating communities of like-minded people online so it’s like we all live together in a village. (I’d like WildelyCreative as a neighbour.)

Hello supporting the people working with white knuckles, gritted teeth and in tears to save our planet, the species we share it with and the welfare of animals. Hello the rebel, the maverick, the weirdo who stands up and is not afraid to go against the tide.

Hello having your baby at home, being supported by other parents and breastfeeding for as long as you want. Hello hand-me-down clothes that have the energy of other children about them. Hello dads being good at supporting and protecting their family and moms being good at nurturing and home-making and hello all parents feeling supported and confident instead of thinking they need to read parenting books <– although I recommend that one).

Hello feeling connected to people via the magnificent universe that is Twitter that you’d never meet in real life. Hello listening to our instincts and acting upon them so we get more gut instincts and start to rely on them instead. Hello thinking for yourself instead of what everyone else seems to think.

Hello doing the exact things we loved as children, not matter how childish like playing with modelling clay and crayons, making things from twigs and collecting feathers. Hello not feeling you have to see the latest movie. Hello walking barefoot and getting your hands dirty.

Hello attempting to fix something instead of just buying a replacement. Hello getting to know your neighbours even if you don’t like them. Hello having a cat or dog in your life to teach you important life lessons and bring you companionship, fun, love and joy.

Hello photographing wildlife instead of shooting it. Hello going on guided nature walks instead of shopping trips. Hello home baking, making meals from scratch and growing our own wild foods.

Hello taking things out of skips and picking up things off the street that people have put out as garbage (we got 4 rolls of thick cream wallpaper on the street yesterday, great for HUGE painting and pastel works of art).

Hello looking up old friends and just saying hello. Hello realising you are beautiful. Hello loving what you have and being grateful.

Hello more displays of public affection. Hello more adventurous sex. (Bye bye stupid inhibitions.) Hello sharing secrets and talking more about what you feel. Hello writing silly notes and saying thank you.

Hello finding out about the insects and other little beasties you share you home and street with and looking for them and being able to name them. Hello smiling at people and acknowledging people more.

Hello realizing how far you’ve come and helping those coming up behind you. Hello leaving whole days open and unscheduled to do what you like in the moment. Hello risking looking foolish when you ask a stranger if they need help with their bags, car, crossing the road or anything else. Hello getting better about saying ‘no’ without giving an explanation as to why not.

Hello having wildflower meadows and wilderness areas in our gardens. Hello making gifts and cards for friends and family instead of giving money to a shop. Hello more people doing things like moving your tomato plant so the noise won’t disturb a leafcutter bee’s nest.

Hello healing ourselves by listening to our inner wild.

I’d love it if we did a kind of brainstorming thing here and you added your individual ‘Hello‘s in the comments below. I might add a few more too.

26/05/2010

Why we should all sing more

When an opera diva opens her lungs and mouth and sings it’s like the raw emotions of all humankind flowing like white water rivers, wild bush fires, avalanches crashing, tidal waves breaking and molten lava surging down the steep sides of a volcano.

The vibration of that exquisite sound – even a recorded version of it – speaks to us in a primal way. Our cells respond.

Do you sing? Are you tone-deaf like me? Or do people say you have a good singing voice? Either way, do you sing?

And if you do, do you limit your singing to the shower, drowned out by the force of water, only sing along to your favorite tunes or do you belt out a song at any opportunity?

The first time I heard Madame Butterfly, ah, em, sampled by Malcolm McLaren, I found the original version: Puccini’s Un bel di vedremo from the opera Madame Butterfly, sung by Renata Scotto.

I didn’t know what words Ms Scotto was singing but it didn’t matter – any words here are merely an excuse to carry the human voice as it expresses our purest emotions.

I have since managed to attend a performance of Madame Butterfly. Now, when I listen to this piece of music I feel like hurts inside are healing up, little pebbles rub smoother, cracks come back together, some molecular magic occurs.

Tears come to my eyes and if I allow myself to merge with the sound, I cry. My ears ring inside. I hold my breath. I sigh. Crying to Madame Butterfly is like empathetic crying, pain, solace, comfort, love. Feeling you’re part of an amazing species.

Now here’s the curious thing.

I had the same response to my daughter singing a simple Maypole dance song last week (actual song lyrics).

Why? Because she was singing from her heart. Yes, and her soul. Singing loud and proud. She was singing with her whole Self – her arms open, her facing shining with a smile. Wow!

My child’s voice carried way above all the other children, and she ain’t a show-off. I stood there with the other parents, tears running down my face. I couldn’t help it.

I was so proud. Not of how ‘well’ she was singing in the way we would usually say, but of how WELL she was singing as in with abandonment, an open heart, healthily, happily, joyfully and carefree. How wonderful it was to listen to her song.

And this reminded me of a time at a parent and toddler group when the leader, who had a melodic voice and knew how to use it, would lead us all in song. Perhaps because her voice was so lovely us parents would mumble along trying not to drown her out or be heard at all really.

No doubt all of us had been told many times “you can’t sing!”. And so we didn’t, (except I suppose when people weren’t listening). But one parent, a Dutchman called Jan, who was as tone deaf as me sang at full manly volume!

I giggled. I was kinda nervous on his behalf. (How arrogant!)

When I was done giggling I listened. Here’s the weird thing – his really off-key and uncouth voice was harmonising beautifully with the leader’s. Was it because he was belting out the song with great enthusiasm and without a care for what anyone might think of his singing? His deep, raw voice with her sweet, clear voice created something unique and grand.

What a guy! What a great dad!

Of course, I had to talk to him about it later because he really was something else. You know what he said? He started telling me this lovely theory about how our individual voices naturally resonate at a certain frequency which aligns with the frequency of our individual bodies down to a cellular level — and how the act of our singing – no matter how ‘well’ or ’badly’ – is healing for us in a physical and energetic way.

This just made complete sense to me.

So that day I vowed I would mumble-sing in public no longer but sing loud and proud. Hmmmn, let’s just say I’m still working on my confidence levels with this one because about as many people have told me I can’t sing as how very loudly I snore. (Maybe my snoring is just a different kind of singing…. no?)

I wonder if we all sang more – like on the bus (yikes!) or in the street (double yikes) or in the office (fired yikes) whether we wouldn’t have such a powerful need to listen to other’s people’s refined and processed singing recorded in studios? Would people walk about in public with those bloody iPod earplugs in their ears the whole time, or would they listen to someone real, live singing?

If people commonly sang in public, if it was as normal as talking, would we have a completely different, kinder, more understanding, healthier even, society?

Image borrowed from amberpyxiel17.

22/05/2010

Smearing stickiness in the dark

So now I’m into a whole new kind of smearing of stickiness in the dark.

OK, I know I’m being a bit indulgent with that title. Let’s face it, I’m cheap. Anyways, I’m having a little dalliance with the idea of going on a moth hunting party.

Uh-huh. That’s right, a moth hunting party. But no moths harmed!

A schmear of stickiness, slick sweetness on a tree. A moth alights. Unfurls its science-fiction spiral tongue and licks away and there’s you with your wee torch (or candle if you’ve uber rustic) getting to stare at the glorious wings and dark wonderfulness of the rather maligned night creature you’ve attracted.

I’m intrigued by the idea of how I might attract winged creatures of the dark. And be a “moth-er”. What about you? You into that idea?

Sure, butterflies are gorgeous. All flamboyant giddiness and elegant sunbeams on flower petal visits.

But moths.

Ooo.

Moths are sensuous and, and, – and they are nocturnal and therefore thrilling! Surely all of us have gotten a fright by a moth suddenly fluttering around at us when we’ve put a light on in the dark?

Moths to me are forever connected to childhood semi somnambulant midnight visits to outside dunnies slipping down rotten wooden steps, squatting over long-drops, perching on the wobbly rims of port-a-loos on sandbanks and various other basic toilets or plain old alfresco peeing and squeals of argh! what’s that fucking soft fluttery erratic cobwebby thing flitting at me, all shadows and confusion and ARGH!

You can’t swat at it because there’s the very serious issue of their dusty wings being so excruciatingly delicate and you killing something in your fearfulness. ‘Do not touch me!’ say these wings. ‘Do not touch me or I will die!’

This sort of do not-ness is very hard for us humans to deal with. When I first learned that if you even delicately, reverently, lovingly touched a moth’s wing you brushed off the dust leaving it crippled so it would die a horrible, long and torturous flutters of helplessness death something inside me wept for the delicacy of life and the colossal power humans have over it.

So, having discovered some months ago a recipe for luring moths to your garden for mutual gain – they have an easy meal, you get to stare at their loveliness and know you attracted them – I am keen to do this, but also strangely frightened. Not of the moths. I don’t know what. Something in me?

Maybe it’s the furtive creeping about in my garden at night and its big bushes and old trees, loud snuffling hedgehogs, previously mentioned foxes, an odd deer(!) as well as the usual squirrels, mice and spiders. [Oh God, one of the cats brought a dead young squirrel to the door today. I think the squirrel fell out of a tree. I took it off the cat since he had already eaten and we left the squirrel on the fox path. The fox has now had it for its supper.]

It’s their world I’d be in.

But. A-ha! It’s our world. Now I discover Moth Hunting Parties arranged by people who can even name the moths you’re looking at! Now, I must confess to having at the moment a very large and spiky bug up my ass about entomologists because of their infuriating continuation, in these days of diminishing and endangered wildlife, to collect bugs and other insects.

It’s estimated that in the UK numbers of moths have HALVED since 1975. So if you ever splatted a moth, I’m sorry to say, you’re part of that dessimation.

However, I do believe that at moth hunting parties collecting is not allowed. No more moths pinned on white card under glass, thanks very much. Now we get to paint sticky fruit on trees and see them at their happiest; alive and eating – even drinking beer! Now that’s the kind of wild party I like.

RSPB’s fabulous, comprehensive resource for attracting moths (and butterflies)

Moth watching in your garden

Recipe for ‘moth brew’ stickiness to attract and feed moths

Moth activities, fun with moths

The Amateur Entomologists Society (UK) Join to go on a moth hunting party but don’t let them persuade you to collect!

The Royal Entomological Society

The image is of a moth resting on a moth whisperer’s hand so it is very safe. It’s a polyphemus moth (whose wings look like another night hunter, the owl, to scare away predators – moths are very smart and know the dangers of the dark, huh?). Photo borrowed from moth whisperer herself, Lisa Ellersf.

07/05/2010

You already know how to scare off evil

As children we are exquisitely vulnerable to evil. And this is why we are naturally equipped with a vast array of built-in defences and processing techniques.

For some reason we lose respect for these effective Self-preservation techniques through puberty. They are taken-for-granted and considered ‘childish’ because we are now big and strong and can defend ourselves against evil.

And yet so many grow-ups take prescription medicines to counter depression, use drugs to suppress feelings, spend years in therapy, lash-out in anger at others, have breakdowns … these are grown-up coping mechanisms.

Child’s play is crucial and deeply healing for children. Good-versus-evil and learning right from wrong are fundamental human themes. And yet, as grown-ups we seem to forget much of the natural skills of scaring off evil we were born with.

As children we used deeply effective techniques to lessen the impact of evil upon us. Our primal instinct default position was to always turn to the positive. Let go of grievances easily. Be more attracted to things that made us happy than those that made us unhappy. We processed and released our pain through drawings, paintings and other art.

We used our imagination to replay a frightening experience using our toys who might fight each other and always the “good” toy (us) winning, where perhaps in real life we lost. Cowboys and Indians. Monsters and heroes. Soldiers.

We role-played anger, fear and sadness with our friends. We even dressed-up to make it more ‘real’. We made boundaries and used ‘safe words’.

Fact is, we were better equipped psychologically as children to defend our Selves from evil than as adults.

My daughter who is 6 years old is very keen on gargoyles at the moment. To her, it is simple common sense that in order to protect a building, and those inside it, from evil or harmful entities you put something even more scary on the outside of it. A ‘grotesque’.

Her best friend who is 7 years old has had a recurring nightmare about a black dog for as long as she can remember. Black dog dreams are archetypal. And let me tell you, if you could hear this child’s detailed description of this dog that ‘haunts’ her you’d be scared right out of your pants too.

He is black, shadowy, has no eyes, no expression, he’s unpredictable, feels malevolent, you can’t understand him or communicate with him, but he seems to want to bite legs off …

And, after much sympathetic and practical help from her parents; consideration of anxiety, role-playing, discussion, a homoeopathic remedy, this child has found her own solution. She asked her mother to buy her a Cerberus.

You know – Cerberus the terrifying three-headed, black dog of – that’s right! Archetypal mythology! This ‘grotesque’ sits on her bedside table.

Now, would you have thought of that perfect solution as a grown-up? Or would you be discussing it with a therapist?

Let’s remember these tools we had as little people, which we used so very effectively and intuitively.

I did this once, completely without realising it, so I can’t take any credit for being clever with this.

Visiting the Sacre Coeur in Paris, a city that resonates deeply with me, I bought what I thought of at the time a super-kitsch souvenir. That’s it in the picture above. I didn’t even know it was Archangel Michael when I bought it.

Fast forward to me coming out of an unhealthy relationship with a guy, (who, weirdly, looked exactly like the guy St Michael is sorting out) and noticing my little statue.

Then came the blinding insight that this little statue represented my childish “yeah, screw you buddy!” angry feelings followed by a more rationale understanding of how I loved, in a new way, this famous example of ‘good vanquishing evil’ and how looking at it helped me and made me feel stronger.

So if something evil is scaring the pants off you, remember what you did when you were little and wise – just go get yourself its grotesque version to scare that nasty away.

06/05/2010

3 dangerous secrets to effortless creativity

Years ago I was asked to give a presentation on ‘Creativity in Advertising’ to a class of Communication & Media Studies students.

Oh! The illicit thrill of rebelliously plotting to tell them some of my secrets. Secrets which were dangerously, diametrically-opposed to what other experts were telling them.

I knew these secrets had the power to save these students a lot of future stress and creative angst so I figured it was worth the possibility of being laughed out of the lecture theatre.

To predispose them to listen, lessen the imminent shock and stretch their belief about what is possible, I gave them all chocolate bars. Yeah, that’s right – bribery.

Here are 3 of my dangerous, yet proven-effective, secrets to effortless creativity:

1. You need to take your ego out of the project at the get-go. It’s not about YOU for now. It’s about creating something. You can step into the limelight after you’ve created the thing. This letting-go-of-ego liberates you and quiets the critical voice in your head that stifles creative thought. It’s a technique that becomes easier over time as you develop confidence in both your abilities and the next two techniques.

2. You are more creative when you practise no effort at all. Deepak Chopra expresses this beautifully in a life-context when he talks about The Law of Least Effort. (I’m not talking here about the discipline you need to manifest things in the world. I’ll talk about that in another post.)

Do NOT, no matter what anyone tells you, think you have to spend hours sweating and thinking and rehashing a project, task or brief. The time you spend on a job – contrary to what your client, boss or ego might think – has absolutely no bearing on the value of the idea you come up with. They don’t relate at all! It is not difficult to have an idea, and it’s just as easy to have a brilliant idea as a lame one. It takes your mind less than 1 second to have an idea. An idea or creation is not better because you spent from 9am until 9am the next day thinking about it, in fact it will likely be awful.

Read the creative brief, manifesto, task at hand, project, whatever it is you’re looking to create. Absorb it fully, note down the first ideas and thoughts that come into your head. Stop thinking about it. Go do something else or at least think about something else. Your subconscious mind is far more powerful at working things out that your conscious mind, so let your subconscious do all the work for you. Novelists rely heavily upon their subconscious to keep track of the intricacies of complex narrative, character traits, plot development, geography, dynamics. So leave the project for a couple of days or hours, as time allows, and then re-read your brief or task and let your subconscious ideas and thoughts come through. Then let your conscious mind kick-in to edit, add, subtract, refine.

3. This is the biggie. Please suspend your judgment for now and just try this next time you are seriously stuck having slammed into a brick wall and are now glued to it with your nose getting scratched on the brickwork. When you get stuck, when you are completely overwhelmed, lost or panicked or you just had some very bad news and yet still have to come up with something, ask the angels/god/fairies/your spirit guide/whatever external manifestation of power you cherish, to help you.

Stop laughing you over there! I’m serious.

I once had to write 3 huge business-to-business brochures for IBM about some computers that cost about million dollars each. This project was killer because I didn’t know if what I was writing made any sense at all – it was in a different language, since I had no training in computer science, I couldn’t understand the technical information I was ‘translating’. I was so lost I burst into tears at my computer! In complete desperation I asked “the angels” (no, I don’t now who they are exactly either) to help me.

I’m here to tell you this worked. I felt a shift come over me, some kind of intangible support, i switched off my brain, let my fingers press whatever characters they wanted on the keyboard and pretty much channeled all three brochures. The client loved my copy. Would I tell IBM that “the angels” wrote it for them? Em, HELL NO!

You don’t want to be pulling this big bunny out the hat too much. It’s where you go when you are really desperate – white-knuckled, sweat drops on brow, crisis.

I remembered these 3 secrets because I used the 3rd one last night.

I became completely bloody-minded with ridged determination that I would put a favicon in the browser bar of my website URL. This involved delving into FTP stuff on my host server and while I fancy myself as a creative geek gal who likes dabbling in CSS – this was w-a-y beyond my level of experience.

So after four attempts at shoving html cluelessly in any old place like someone fumbling to lose their virginity, I sent a Tweet out saying:

Dear Fairy Godmother of Favicons, please come and help me now. I have tried and tried and tried and still no favicon on my website. Thanks!

And not long after, this Tweet:

Thank you Fairy Godmother of Favicons, your wand was swift and I am very grateful. Take care.

Who knew Twitter was our communication channel to higher powers? Check it out – my favicon is up there in your browser window, channeled by me from some other entity and because I was kinda ‘listening’ and acting intuitively, I can’t remember how I managed that. Nice favicon, huh?

Yep, there y’go – my ego just kicked back in.

05/05/2010

Bursting your bubble, OK?

It’s a good thing that as children we learn, with joy in our hearts, the complex psychological concept that our bubbles will burst.

Blowing bubbles. Your breath making globes of gorgeousness. You create them and then you wantonly poke your finger at them to burst them. You giggle when they land globulously with flat bottoms on the ground. How delightful, how satisfying.

Do you remember those feelings? How much you loved the bursting of soap bubbles? Every bit as much as you loved creating them and watching the transcendant perfection of light-refracting bubbles that held your breath suspended inside you and inside your bubble?

As a grown-up I often speak about how we all live in a bubble. Psychological bubbles are our protective shield, the flexible, protective barrier wrapping our value and belief systems.

We all have our individual bubbles, they are our sanity-protectors and without them and their beneficially anaesthetic effect on our lives we would absorb too much pain, too much ecstasy, and explode.

Luckily, our bubbles explode instead of our Selves.

I’ve spent the last couple of years repairing my bubble after some serious negative puncturing. I’ve had to do things I never imagined I would have to do. Things that were not part of my previous belief system and idealistic view of MY world.

When we experience personal trauma, good or bad massive change, realisations that are so outside our beliefs about people and how they might behave, whose reality challenges our core personal values and idealistic views — our bubble bursts.

As children we learned that bubbles can’t be repaired. A bubble once burst is gone forever. Our response it to blow ourselves a new one.

And yet because of the trauma I’ve experienced I’ve found myself attempting to do the impossible: repair an old bubble, it was so pretty, so lovely.

The bursting of protective bubbles can be challenging when you find it difficult to accept that the trauma, the horror you knew happened to other people, but not to you, happens to you. While I might want to pretend it didn’t happen, ‘it’ has definitely burst my bubble. I felt the exquisite vulnerability of the loss of bubble.

During the between-time before making a new bubble, you have to spend time staring at the soapy liquid that was once a bubble. The life view you had, the person you were in that bubble that’s burst.

You grieve for your lovely bubble. Just like you did that very first time in childhood when your soap bubble burst and disappeared and you stared, bereft.

Grown-up, I didn’t like the new world view and its intimate knowledge of nasty. New bubbles seemed kinda scary.

So I sat and blew actual bubbles. And it was good. My mind seemed to tap in to the simple lesson I had learned so easily as a child about the abundance of bubbles, the natural necessity of bubbles and of their bursting. The ecstasy of making and watching them float, the sharp, tiny, pleasurable pain of their popping.

Creating a new bubble for myself, a much bigger one now with my new, more evolved and rounded world view, I realise our old bubbles also grow – and burst – when wonderful things occur.

We break through a soapy ceiling of our own making. A limiting belief is exploded – a miraculous connection, a soul-touching new friendship, a saving arm as you stepped out in front of a bus and there’s a pop followed by deep breath, a slow releasing of breath and a surge as your bigger bubble is blown.

Let’s blow some bubbles today. Blow them up, blow them away and blow some new ones. And maybe make some soap bubbles too.

Image (detail) “Where all life begins” borrowed from Cassandra204.

03/05/2010

Surrender freelancer

Surrendering. Ah. Feels like floating, yes?

As a freelancer, you are most successful when you surrender to the natural flow of work and opportunities.

Leaving full-time employment is like throwing yourself out of a confining, separating boat into the flowing river of life, the universe and everything.

You can be overwhelmed and scared. Terrified of drowning. Or you can practice non-resistance – relax, float, tread water, be supported by unseen under-currents when you feel yourself sinking, make like a fish and swim fast, and always, be the one who decides when you’ll head for land to rest up a while.

And you must rest and not fret when work is quiet. You need to snatch intense moments of ‘stolen time’ when a project falls through or is postponed, your diary is suddenly blank, your meeting canceled. This is so important in maintaining the momentum of your successful flow.

Worrying about a lack of work during quiet times is a fast-track to burn-out as well as a self-fulfilling prophecy (see, YOU really are in charge!). You must allow yourself to fill your reserve tank of energy and inspiration when your workload drops. You must give yourself permission to cut loose and rest so you can crank up fast for the, (again, often sudden) times when you’re a dynamo of getting-stuff-done.

The more you surrender to this external force, the less tired you will be fighting it and the more energy you’ll have to work it. It doesn’t take long to find yourself ‘in flow’, trust in the process, and then – wow! – you’re living life on your own terms, contributing in a valuable way and feeling fulfilled.

You look around and your vision is not limited by the hard edges of a boat but marked only by your very own boundary – the line where water meets land. in the wide rivers and vast oceans of freelancing possibilities, this is your horizon – exactly where you want it to be.

Image borrowed from artist Sam Nagel one of a range of paintings and fine art prints available from her Etsy shop.

29/04/2010

Normal or happy ———> what’s it gonna be?

Jeanette Winterson, author of “Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit” has a wonderful story about normal versus happy.

I heard her tell this story during a book club show on the radio a few weeks ago. She told it with great love and good humour.

Several decades ago when she was sixteen Ms Winterson told her conservative, hard-working, Northern English mother mother she was gay. She said she was gay and that it made her happy.

Her mother replied, completely seriously and with love and concern, “But Jeanette! Why be happy when you can be NORMAL!?”

It’s easy to see why her mum, a woman of the Depression and War Generation, might feel sticking your head above the parapet of normality might not be a good idea. Having experienced the damage to people and society that WW2 caused, she may have felt it was important to protect those you loved to the extent of not wanting them to be different and therefore a potential target. Keep them safe, even if it meant suppressing who they were.

It’s strange really that this mentality seems to have continued through to the present day, an entirely different era with different kinds of threats and risks.

It seems no small number of individuals value the ‘safe’ facade of ‘normality’ and ‘fitting-in’ over self-realisation. There’s a different kind of war going on in the 2000′s with more subversive yet just as emotionally-devastating casualties for our society.

When people wrap their essential uniqueness up in the pretence of a perception of ‘normality’ they don’t just deprive themselves of happiness, they deprive the rest of us of their individual expression of human-ness.

So fear not weird one. Be different. Go on. Make the world a happier place.

Image borrowed from Willow Creek Signs from a selection of home decor vinyl lettering designs.

28/04/2010

The freakishly simple way to have what your heart desires

It’s taken Drew Barrymore of all unexpected people, (much as I admire her) to help something gel in my mind.

How do people get to do amazing things? How come that person got to do that thing that I, oh so wistfully, wished for?

Why does it seem so freakishly simple for some people to have what they want?

Is there a secret ‘in-road’? As it happens there is. It’s called asking. All you do is A-S-K!

I’m a person who still finds it challenging to ask for what I want. So I was delighted to read a recent interview with darling Drew Barrymore wherein she said her success was partly due to having the courage to ask for things.

For example, she fancied being on the cover of Vogue magazine. Unlike most people who might sit and wait and wait and hope and hope that their phone might one day ring and their little side-hustle dream-come-true, Ms Barrymore wrote to Anna Wintour, editor at American Vogue and ASKED to be on the cover.

Yup, she asked.

I love that. It’s so empowering. So simple.

I hear another limiting belief of mine tinkle into tiny pieces.

“I just don’t think that things magically happen” said Ms Barrymore. “I think the writing [of a letter] is so proactive and a great way to take a stance in fighting for the things you want.

“Look: I have all these burning passions and desires, I’d really like to make this happen, and I know you don’t have ESP, so me sitting here scrunching up my eyes and hoping, hoping, hoping probably isn’t going to do much.”

I don’t think it has ever occurred to me that the amazing things that happen to people might have happened because they asked. Asked! Such a tiny word.

And yet I am sure lots of people – I’m thinking various forms of the casting-couch scenario, for instance – have skipped this first, simple step.

So thanks Ms Barrymore. I am now going to not only write things down for myself but write things TO people. Put a stamp on it and not just thereby action it but tangibly ship it - (as Seth Godin says, “One key element of a successful artist: ship. Get it out the door. Make things happen“).

Image, ‘Growing Human Heart’ from a selection of prints on paper and fabric available to buy from The Utilitarian Franchise, San Francisco. Thanks for making the world more beautiful.

« Older Entries

Newer Entries »

Categories