inner wild therapy

breathe dearheart, breathe

Archives (page 9 of 15)

What no television?

Maybe if TVs still looked like they did in the 1960’s I might still have one.

No. Maybe if television still ran the kinds of shows as it did then, and in black and white, I would not have felt an urge to “get rid” of our TV.

Getting rid of your television is a big deal.

Stripping away unnecessary furniture and clutter from your home is all well and good. But television’s phenomenal power over us is so subtle I think most people don’t even think of a television set as a piece of furniture. In fact, even I buy into the idea that those super-slim, wall-hung plasma screens are like art on your wall.

And yet getting rid of my television set has been the absolute, far and away, single most stupendously rewarding aspect of embracing my inner minimalist, my purist spirit, my inner wildness.

Adopting a simplifying attitude to your life, de-cluttering your home and stripping away unnecessary material things in your environment gets talked about a lot, because those things are obvious. But as a personal development attitude the concept of minimalism covers much more, including simplifying what you’re exposing your Self to in the bigger picture. And that includes media.

So I ditched television, I listen to one or two radio stations, read one paper once a week and go where instinct leads me on the world wide web.

I feel I have my life back. After several years of not having a TV I feel I’ve already gained millions of minutes that add up to years that would otherwise have been spent watching other people doing stuff. Now I wonder how I managed to do anything at all when I had a TV.

I first thought of becoming TV-free about 8 years ago. This was when I lived in New Zealand where the quality of TV shows is excellent. You get the best American, Australian and British shows plus great local content.

What I didn’t like was my slavish addiction to it. I found it difficult to turn the damn thing off. It was nice escapism. It was company. It kept me constantly ‘entertained’. I felt ‘connected’ to characters in sitcoms and series.

I stopped watching the news – I had read something about detaching from a desire to keep track of the international news media’s negative take on everything. Then I read an article about how TV is like having a stranger in the room who can pretty much say whatever they like. I muted the volume on every ad break – I couldn’t stand the intrusion of commercial hype. (And I was an advertising creative at the time!)

The whole TV abcess burst for me when I became a parent. I didn’t want my child to be a TV zombie. I wanted her to be a child. I wanted her to live life, not watch it. Simple.

So I only switched the TV on while she was sleeping. And then I kept forgetting to switch it on, not least because I became more appreciative of quiet. I can see now that this was a weaning period.

But actually picking up the TV and giving it to charity was an ambition beyond me until we moved countries. I was very attached to my television set. I had had it for years. Buying it was somehow a modern adult rite of passage. But we moved. It stayed, at the local charity shop – and I was so relieved.

I decided not to buy another TV in our new home and see how that went. That was about 3 years ago.

By now I’m used to the horrified expressions on people’s faces when they ask me if I saw the news last night or some other thing on the TV and I say ‘no, I don’t have a TV’. (People talk a lot about what they’ve seen other people do or say on TV!)

I really wish there were more people who didn’t have a TV. I would feel a lot less weird. People are kinda threatened by the idea of someone not having a TV. Yeah, I am dangerous – I have no telly, so there!

Now, please don’t think I’m some kind of guru because I managed to pull out the mass media IV cord and give up TV. I do still occasionally watch TV shows on BBC iPlayer. But since 6 weeks can go by without my having watched any moving picture I have to be prepared for things like sobbing over a scene with Kenneth Branagh in Wallander (which previously wouldn’t have affected me so dramatically) and being scared rigid by Damages because the effect of these dramas is magnified for me.

If you’re beginning to question having a TV, hold my hand and just get rid of it. You will not regret it for a moment. You will feel free. You may have to ride out some withdrawal symptoms, but it’s worth it. And you don’t have to go cold turkey on it. You will revel in your new active, selective viewing. And not accidentally scheduling your life around what time your favorite TV show comes on.

I’m sure there are loads of articles online that outline the benefits of unplugging from broadcast media – you get more stuff done, connect with your family more, talk more, are not mainlined into believing what other people believe, you’re not vulnerable to sophisticated advertising messages, whatever … and the drawbacks do include people thinking you’re a freak, because let’s face it, you are a freak if you don’t have a TV.

Quite apart from all the usual criticisms directed at TV nowadays, desensitizing us to violence and all the rest, as well as being persuaded to buy goods and services we didn’t even realize we wanted so badly before the ad came on, the thing I find poignant about TV is the empty streets and parks of our neighbourhood in the evening, the flickering of TV screens in every living room and people sitting staring.

Not out for an evening constitutional, not meeting each other, not talking to each other No. Sitting in little boxes staring at a piece of furniture in the corner. I find it really sad. But I guess the powers that be are real happy about this state of affairs.

Stay or go, your choice

There I am, just walking, not really even thinking, being in the moment, at one with it all.

BAM! I’m hit by a sudden dilemma. A grand philosophical question. A sign painted in the window of a closed-down cafe has caught my eye:

“…to go … to stay …”

Well, crikey, um, I dunno. This is the sort of question that can root an indecisive Libran like me to the spot for hours. I could have spent all day in front of that window, weighing up the pros and cons of staying or going before making a decision.

So I stood and I thought. I took a photo. I thought some more – about my life and whether I was going somewhere or staying, which somehow implied being “stuck”. Where I had come from? Where would I go? Where am I right now? Do I even know?

And yet, relief. This scrawly-painted sign in a window reminds us that there is always a choice. You don’t have to stay. You can just GO.

Yes, it was talking about coffee. But this coffee shop has closed down. (Suffocated perhaps by the nearby chain cafe, “Beanscene” which doesn’t pose such weighty, life-evaluating questions.)

Did this cafe’s customers look at this when getting coffee and decide, upon reading this statement, to leave a violent relationship or an energy-sucking job, to leave an unhealthy situation or to stay in something good and commit to making it work…?

Was the sign writer aware of the effect their question might create on people’s lives? I mean, this is one of the greatest, most recurrent dilemmas in my life. Stay in this situation or go to the next, unknown one? Stay in this country or go to another? (I’ve repeated that one quite a lot.)

I hope this little statement stays in the window for as long as possible. I think it’s a valuable reminder of something we forget. That even when we feel locked-in to the most horrid of situations, or think ourselves trapped in a negative state of mind or hand-cuffed to an abusive person, we always have a choice.

And it really is a therapeutically healing, simple choice – go or stay. Once we make that choice we have already made huge progress.

Phew. Definitely time for some coffee …

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.

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.

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 is 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.