The Reward is the Journey

Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth. What you held in your hand, what you counted and carefully saved, all this must go so you know how desolate the landscape can be between the regions of kindness. How you ride and ride thinking the bus will never stop, the passengers eating maize and chicken will stare out the window forever. Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness, you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho lies dead by the side of the road. You must see how this could be you, how he too was someone who journeyed through the night with plans and the simple breath that kept him alive. Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. You must wake up with sorrow. You must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows and you see the size of the cloth. Then it is only kindness that makes sense...

Humility is a word that today carries a whole lot of meaning for me.  I used it and meant it towards the end of a workshop I was delivering this weekend.  I felt it, and powerfully.  I feel humbled sitting in the presence of families who have someone missing.  Their extraordinary and awful experiences throw into a different light so many of mine, both past and present, and I was conscious of the collective experience spoken to by a group of relative strangers, brought together by a horrific and harrowing reality none of them imagined, let alone expected.      The workshop represents the completion of a series we have as a team delivered up and down the land.  Yet it stands for so much more.  As I found myself fumbling for words, which carried anything like the meaning I was searching for, I surrendered and allowed my heart to find its voice.  Sometimes words fall so far short, it is better to give up the...

...When you say nothing at all?   Disclosure in the therapy room is a contentious subject, but perhaps one that is not explored as readily as it could be.  I am under no illusion as to the existence of a peculiar power dynamic in the therapy room, and do not seek to deny it, either inside or outside of the room.  Revelations I make about myself, my experiences, and my opinions can have a significant bearing on the individual relationships I have with my clients.  But the impact of my silence should not, I feel, be overlooked or underestimated.    It would be all too easy, perhaps, to remain an empty vessel, or a blank canvas.  To make 'therapist style' noises, at appropriate moments, and engage the full range of active listening skills.  It wouldn't necessarily make me very useful.  I'm not convinced this would establish terribly productive therapeutic relationships, capable of catalysing meaningful chan...

I have grown used to the sound of trains as they pass by at the bottom of my garden.  The sound was alien when I first arrived, and I felt convinced I would never overcome the regular disturbance, day and night.  Today, it is there, and I live alongside it, rather than battling against it.  At night, I barely notice the trains, and during the day, I find them somehow comforting, reminders that time is passing by, confirmation of that eternal truth that nothing stands still.    Travelling by train is something of a rare pleasure these days.  In recent months, I have, it feels, travelled the length and breadth of the country.  I do not have any such adventures on the horizon, but recall feeling aware of a definite sense of calm whilst in transit on the railways recently.  Train journeys are now, spaces to simply be.  In terms of getting from A to B, there is nothing much for me, as a passenger, to do, and nowhere for me to g...

It made a lot of sense as she said it - it can be scary to zoom out.  Keeping things in the day, and focusing on the here and now is a skill that once learnt, can become something of a protective cloak when the bigger picture is perhaps less orderly, and even overwhelming.   A great many of us move through our lives one chapter at a time, turning the pages as we go, and retaining a sense of 'all is well, all will be well', by taking things line by line, with the ability to take things even more steadily, word by word.  We set ourselves objectives, and make plans, but we live looking only just ahead of where we find ourselves.    There are lots of reinforcers for this approach.  Education for one.  Modules, rather than finals.  Public examinations annually, or even more frequently.  Progressing in a linear fashion.  It all keeps things ticking over nicely.    Until they don't.  I have come t...

As the days get colder, and the nights longer, I have upped my scheduled entertainments.  Twice in a month I have been to the 02.  For two very different evenings.  Jesus Christ Superstar was written to be performed in an arena setting.  Andrew Lloyd Webber, who appeared on stage at the end of the show, told us he'd waited 42 years to get to the 02.    Not to everyone's tastes, perhaps.  I thought it was spectacular.  The show has been revamped and boasted cutting-edge modernisation used last summer's London riots and the Occupy movement to create a contemporary backdrop for the rise of a new political leader who threatens the status quo of capitalism and state authority.   And it was loud!  Swinging effortlessly between heavy rock and ballad, the emotional connections in the triangle between the tortured but disaffected Judas, the weary Jesus and the yearning Mary Magdalene, are only further intensified Tim Rice'...

"...Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed the path that the program suggests..."  So says Chapter 5 of the Big Book, the basic text of Alcoholics Anonymous.  "Those who do not recover are people who cannot or will not completely give themselves to this simple program, usually men and women who are constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves."   How it works might be summarised as Honesty, Open mindedness and Willingness.  No two meetings are ever the same.  They may be broadly similar, as they tend to follow a similar format, but a meeting is as individual as the people that make it.    Meetings are the backbones of a great many individuals' recovery journeys.  In them, those who have decided to abstain from substances, or behaviours, access the support of those with a common purpose, and this is the not-so-secret key to 12 Step Fellowships.  By sharing thei...

Surrender has been a prominent theme in recent weeks.  On so many levels.  For me, there are few lessons learnt as effectively as lessons lived.  My own experience is a wonderful laboratory for many an unanticipated (and sometimes less than welcome) hypothesis.  I feel as though I have gleaned a great amount of late.   I can now see how very different surrender and resignation are.  I can only see this having felt it.  Giving up is not an option.  Surrender is not only an option, it is sometimes absolutely the right thing to do.  Which is not to say that it's easy.    It's not been easy.  Watching someone you love losing their life to a chronic and debilitating illness isn't something I'd wish on anybody.  Watching the life being steadily squeezed out of a family member, powerless in the face of a ruthless and progressive condition, is challenging on every level.   She's fading away.  We've not lost ...

I had to look at it for a second time.  As I emerged from the Underground, a chalk message on a blackboard read:  "The best way to find something you've lost is to buy another".  It shouted at me.  I was making my way home after a long day, having travelled to and from Yorkshire, and there was this message - simple.  Far too simple, in fact.   It didn't of course refer to someone you may have lost.  But the intimation spoke to me.  We don't anticipate losing those we love.  We get by on the assumption that people we hold close to us in our lives will not suddenly vanish.  But that's exactly what happened to the twenty individuals I met in Leeds.  One day their relative was there, going about their ordinary everyday business.  Then they were gone.    Their experiences ranged in length, but the devastation was broadly similar.  Wives looking for their husbands, mothers missing their sons.  Sibli...

Less than a week ago, I was in Birmingham.  Tomorrow I'll be in Leeds.  My work has rarely before involved travel to such glamorous locations.  This weekend represents the penultimate workshop in a series I have delivered with colleagues on behalf of the national charity Missing People.  As police continue to investigate the disappearance of little April Jones, my work for the organisation feels as poignant as ever.  It will be a privilege to return to Yorkshire, where I presented an introduction to mindfulness over 3 weekends for families of missing persons earlier in the year.  I am looking forward to seeing some familiar faces, and to meeting new ones.      This aspect of my work, which has grown considerably over the last 18 months, has been both a challenge and a delight.  Having thankfully never found myself in the situation where someone I love has disappeared without trace, I am stretched to truly empathise with th...

Therapy is psychological exfoliation.  I've heard the cliche of peeling the layers of the proverbial onion too many times for it not to hold some water.  It makes sense.  Therapy, done well, is about going beyond and below the superficial.  When safe, the space is a sacred one, the potential for which may be limitless.  At times however, this is hard work.  I know this first hand, having sat on both sides of the room.   Stripping back, to uncover and reveal is necessarily exposing.  Safety is paramount, and so too is aftercare.  A comprehensive skincare routine entails exfoliation, cleansing, toning and moisturising.  Abrasion requires balm and serum.  I often find myself talking to clients about the importance of honouring the work done inside the therapy room after they leave, treating themselves gently - physically and psychically.  'Going there' requires enormous courage.  'Getting there', if indeed there...

Some Like it Hip Hop by ZooNation was an awesome midweek treat!  The innovative fusion of hip hop dance moves and soulfully sung song made for a thrilling foot tapping, and later hand clapping evening of entertainment.  Unexpectedly discovering our seats to be in the front row brought with it an additional dimension, as we were immersed in the storyline and into the powerful characterisation, and thus transported into the blindingly creative storyline and artistic genius of the relentlessly brilliant choreography.     Some Like It Hip Hop is a story of love, mistaken identity and revolution, in a city where books are banned, and where women are kept subservient to men.  The story revolves around two central female characters, Jo-Jo and Kerri.  When they are discovered breaking the rules of the city, they are thrown out.  They decide they have only one option – to return to the city dressed as men.  It doesn’t take long for ...