Yes country and western music does hold the meaning of life

After a long pause, a message from Sue:

 

 

I’m listening to Vince Gill- look at us. Also I was checking on the blog and realised there had been a bit of a hiatus in chapters  And realised how the  two probably mirrored life since Chris’ accident 2years ago.

 

But to get back to Vince. To make it easier I’ve cleverly added the words to the blog, well arranged for them to be added.  On the surface it’s a lovely tale of happy ever after. 

Look at us after all these years together
Look at us after all that we've been through
Look at us still leaning on each other
If you wanna see how true love should be then just look at us.

Look at you still pretty as a picture
Look at me still crazy over you
Look at us still believing in forever
If you wanna see how true love should be then just look at us.

In a hundred years from now
I know without a doubt
They'll all look back and wonder
How we made it all work out.

Chances are we'll go down in history
When they wanna see
How true love should be
They'll just look at us.

Chances are we'll go down in history

When they wanna see
How true love should be
They'll just look at us.

When they wanna see
How true love should be
They'll just look at us...

 

But it says more than that.  “After all  that we’ve been through”  No ones’ life is without its ups and downs.  Some much more down than up.  I was on holiday in Crete recently.  Looking at the beautiful Aegean Sea I couldn’t help but think of the refugees who experience it in such a different way. 
 

Still leaning on each other – that’s what it’s all about. Sometimes one leaning more than the other, and the leant-on wondering if they’ll need a prop to help them not fall over! 

 And it’s important that we do recognise when extra props are essential.  Different for everyone.  Maybe friends, medical help, prayer, meditation.  There’s always something however leant on or nearly down we feel. Useful to keep a list of them in your head when time are good so not so much effort to recall when times aren’t so good.  “Here’s one I prepared earlier” we can think to ourselves' ringing a friend to ask for help

  How we made it all work out.  Not just by taking advice from country and western songs although I probably can offer a song for every one of life eventualities.  By working at it.  Doing what’s needed at the time.  Not dismissing the little changes we can make. Since back from my holiday I’ve got involved in MerseyAid, mainly sorting donated clothes for refugees.  And getting Chris not to work too hard is still a work in progress!

 

So that’s life care of the country scene!

 

PS  The Dance by Garth Brooks.  Tells us we have to take a chance on life.  Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.  But you’ll never know till you try.

And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance

In praise of uncertainty

All too often, I plan my life away. I make arrangements way ahead, work out what I’m going to be doing weeks or months in advance. It gives me a sense of security, the impression that I’m in control of my life. And when things go wrong - or seem to go wrong – then it’s all about how to fix it. What can I do right now, straightaway, to make it better?

There’s also a strong sense of that when I’m in my GP surgery. People come to see me with problems, often hugely distressing problems. It feels like it’s my job to help to fix them – in just 10 minutes.

And when I’m working as a researcher, there’s continual pressure to come up with quick answers and solutions.

But, let’s just hold on a minute…… Perhaps that’s not always the best way to go.     

Being uncertain, not being sure, not rushing to make my mind up: perhaps that has some advantages.

‘Negative capability’ is the term created by the poet John Keats. In a letter to his brothers in 1817, he writes about how achievement is linked with the capacity of ‘being in uncertainties. Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.’

The Irish poet Aubrey de Vere speaks for ‘the doubt of one who would rather walk in mystery than in false lights, who awaits that he may win, and who prefers the broken fragments of truth to the imposing completeness of a delusion’.

 

This is important not just in poetry (or in research), but in life, particularly when we are facing our own distress, or the distress of others.

Maybe we don’t need to try to work everything out so quickly. Maybe it’s better to wait, to reflect, to allow events to unfold for a while. Maybe it’s better to let the mysterious or doubtful remain just that, rather than rushing to conclusions that may be false, or making decisions that could turn out to be damaging.

As Beth Rushing says, there is ‘hope, and truth, and beauty in the practice of negative capability, in listening patiently, having a certain level of comfort with uncertainty, and in recognizing that what appears to be given, is not necessarily so’. For the psychoanalyst Wilfred Bion, it’s about listening ‘without memory or desire’.

We do well to cultivate our ability to tolerate the pain and confusion of not knowing - rather than imposing our ready-made certainties on ambiguous situations or challenges.

And by resting in uncertainty, we allow space for something new, something transformative, to emerge.

Breathing Space

I’m doing a lot of meditating these days, with the help of Headspace.  Twenty minutes or so, every morning, sitting in my favourite chair.  Often with a dog curled up near me.

The focus of the exercise is very much on my breathing. Not trying to alter it, or breathe in any particular way. Just observing it. Noticing each time I breathe in and out, how my chest moves out and in, the rise and fall of my belly. How each breath is always just a little bit different from the next one. Some are quicker, some slower; some are deeper, some shallower.  The pauses between the breaths: how the pause after the out-breath is usually longer than the pause after the in-breath. A wisp of air on my upper lip.

Maybe counting each breath, one in, two out, three in, four out…..up to ten, then starting over again. Or maybe not, maybe just letting each breath come and go. Resting my attention on the breath. Observing, watching, noticing, witnessing, all in a relaxed sort of way. Nothing too intense.

Sometimes it feels like I’m sitting on the sea shore, watching the waves coming in to land on the beach. They keep on rolling. They are endlessly different, and endlessly fascinating.  And you don’t have to do anything about waves. They just happen.

You might think it is boring, but it isn’t. It’s gentle, kind and enjoyable. I often find I’m smiling quietly to myself.  

It’s important, in a subtle, understated sort of a way. It creates more space for me. It puts other things, my everyday busyness and concerns, into perspective. And if I do get hassled during the day, I can take a few seconds out, just to breathe. I’m finding all those things I have to do, somehow may not be as important, as urgent, as serious or as worrying as I thought they were going to be.  

So making time for breathing now, creates more breathing space during the rest of the day.  Seems like a good deal to me!  

Curiosity

My curiosity is returning.  For quite a few months after my accident I was just plodding along, getting by, not thinking very much about anything new or different. But now, as my brain heals itself, I find I am beginning to look around me again, and starting to wonder about things.

It feels great! 

When I say curiosity, I mean the eagerness and desire to find out about new things. I mean inquisitiveness, an interest in strange and different experiences, a sense of excitement at finding the unexpected.  I mean asking questions that start with “Why…..?”, “What if…..?” or “I wonder whether…..?”

We are all born with a sense of curiosity. Just watch any baby or small child looking around, eager to explore and try something new.

The Greek philosopher Aristotle told us ‘All men by nature desire to know’.  Without it we would never learn anything, never develop our potential.  Albert Einstein said ‘I have no special talent, I am only passionately curious’.

And it turns out that curiosity is good for our mental health, our wellbeing. 

The American psychologist Barbara Fredrickson reminds us how important our positive emotions are, because they increase our range of thoughts and actions. Curiosity sparks the urge to explore. Joy sparks the urge to play.  Contentment sparks the urge to savour and integrate. Love sparks a recurring cycle of each of these urges within safe, close relationships.

Broadening our minds in these ways, through exploration, play, savouring or integrating, promotes discovery of new and creative actions, ideas and social networks. These in turn build up our personal resources and provide lasting reserves for us to draw on if life gets difficult again.  

Curiosity is effective against fear of the different, the unknown. And it’s a much healthier (though sadly less common) response to the different than prejudice.

Alexander von Humboldt was a brilliant, but very anxious 19^th century German explorer.  He overcame his fear and worries by unceasing curiosity. He made discoveries in an unparalleled range of sciences from botany to geography.  He used his curiosity to break down the barriers of prejudice and increase his enjoyment of life.  He was a pioneer of global thinking, whose reward was to feel in touch with the entire earth. 

You know the old saying ‘Curiosity killed the cat’?  Well, if you look into its origins, it turns out to be just the opposite. The original saying was ‘Care killed the cat’, where the word ‘care’ means worry, sorrow or sadness. 

So we should turn this upside down, and say ‘Curiosity cured the cat’. 

I wonder what you’re wondering about just now.

A bubble of joy

Our local community centre is closed for the summer, so we’re holding our Monday evening tai chi class in my back garden.    

A dozen of us, working our way through the movements.

I’m barefoot, feeling the soft grass and firm ground beneath. The threat of rain has passed and the sun is warming my face. The wind comes up, gusting towards me through the wooden arch by the pond, resonating in the trees overhead.

A bubble of joy swells from my belly, up into my head.
 

Trying Easier

Most of the time, we think we really should be trying harder. If only we did a little bit more, things would work out OK. It’s all about achievement, success, doing more and doing it better. If at first you don’t succeed, try, try and try again. It’s drilled into us from an early age.  Study more. Get a promotion. Run faster. Score more goals. Be a better parent. 

But right now, for me, it’s different. After my cycling accident I’ve developed a mild traumatic brain injury. I’m easily tired, my mind often feels foggy. It’s difficult to concentrate for long.  

So the advice I’m getting now is – don’t try harder, try easier.

 

I need to take things easy, give my brain a rest so it has the chance to recover.  

This turns lots of things on their head.

It’s better for me to put things off until tomorrow, even though I could do them today. Procrastination is no longer the thief of time – it’s the essence of healing.

 ‘You snooze, you lose’. Not any more. Quite the opposite. My afternoon siesta is essential to keep me going throughout the day. So for me it’s now ‘You snooze, you win.’

Laziness, slacking, indolence, idleness, sloth: that is supposed to be one of the seven deadly sins, but not any more. Now it’s a cardinal virtue.

I don’t always find it easy to take it easy. Trying harder is so ingrained in me that trying easier doesn’t come naturally.  I have to remind myself, stop myself doing stuff that I really don’t need to do, or not just yet. And it’s surprising – and liberating – how many things that I was convinced were absolutely essential turn out to be a bit less important after all.  The world hasn’t quite ground to a halt because I’m not doing as much as I used to.

It’s about being, not doing.

I’m enjoying my weekly tai chi classes, and I’ve taken up meditation again, with the help of a  website called Headspace. They help me to be aware of how things are, notice my experiences and feelings, without having to worry or do anything about them.    

And I’m building up my physical fitness. I’m back on my bike – off road – and it feels great.

Trying easier is helping me heal. It is refreshing. I can feel the benefits – each week a bit more energy, a bit more headspace.

I gently recommend it!

 

 

 

Off Balance

Sometimes you can be moseying along, feeling pretty good about how you are coping with life – and then everything goes pear-shaped......

Well, that’s happened to me.  I was making steady progress after my cycling accident when, one night on my way to the loo, I suddenly realised I couldn’t walk straight.  The world seemed to be turning round and round. I couldn’t work out what was up and what was down. My head was spinning.  I had to hang on to the wall for dear life.  The next morning was no better.  Walking downstairs was too terrifying to contemplate, so bum-shuffled instead (which confused the dogs no end.)

And no, before you ask, I hadn’t been on the ale.    

It was vertigo. It’s common after head trauma. The collision dislodges the tiny stones in the inner ear (otoliths) which are responsible for balance.

It’s better now. I’ve had time to reflect on my responses to this, and how they might make sense for different sorts of unexpected problems.  

1.     Panic. Yes, I’m afraid so, panic is the first thing you do. It’s pretty inevitable when something unpleasant and unexpected happens, no matter how calm and capable you like to think you are.  My precarious night-time trip to the bathroom was accompanied by various silent expletives, ‘You cannot be serious’ and ‘What the **** is happening’.  It was not funny, not at all. I was scared. I was knocked off balance - literally and metaphorically.

2.     Find a place of safety. If you can, find somewhere out of harm's way, to ride out the storm.  For me it was lying on my back in bed, moving as little as possible.  I didn’t know what was happening, how long it was going to go on, whether it would get better or worse. But just lying there I had a sense of calm, of acceptance. In Gabrielle Roth’s words, I was ‘finding comfort in the sweet territory of silence’.  

 

3.     Distract yourself. If you’re stuck somewhere bad and can’t do anything about it, then it’s good to take your mind off it all, distract yourself. Switch from right brain (feelings) to left brain (thought). I decided to try and remember the names of the main characters in The Wire. I got lots of them – McNulty, Bunk, Daniels, Avon and DiAngelo, Bubbles and the brilliant Omar Little. For some reason I couldn’t recall Stringer Bell (psychoanalysts will have their theories, I’m sure).  

 

4.     Find support.   You need someone who’s there for you, who can calm things down a bit and help you think about what to do next. For me that’ was the easy bit. I just told Sue and she was there like a shot.

5.     Seek help.  You still need someone to help you fix the problem, or at least manage it as best you can. Within 24 hours I was in touch with the wonderful Nova Mullin, balance therapist from our local hospital. She has exactly the right combination of wisdom and confidence, assured me it was going to get better and started me on exercises I could do even with my neck in a brace.  

 

A s I say, I’m a lot better now. I can do White Crane Spreads Wings again in my tai chi class - though not yet with my eyes closed!

 

 

 

 

I wonder if this makes sense for you. How did you respond, the last time something unexpectedly horrible happenened?    

 

 

 

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my cycling accident