Category: Reflections

Communicating Amidst the Virtual Noise

Away from the internet – A happy sunshine drawn by my friend’s daughter and delivered by hand with a note saying to put it up in my window. It even came laminated so that I could anti-bac it!

At the start of lockdown, I felt unexpectedly excited as my world was opening up and new possibilities were coming my way. Things that I’m often unable to access physically were made available online. People who are usually busy spending their days out and about were suddenly at home, their days becoming closer to mine.

But I didn’t anticipate how busy the online world would become and how overwhelmed I would feel. I realised many of us were feeling the same. My sister had 125 unread messages in just one WhatsApp group. My Mum asked if turning her phone to silent would stop it constantly pinging? My book club decided not to go virtual during this time as we had originally planned, or perhaps more accurately assumed, as one by one we admitted it all felt too much and that we would rather curl up quietly with a book and have time to turn inward and reflect.

Of course there’s a natural and very human pull to be connected, especially when we’re missing family and friends and living through such uncertain, and for some completely devastating, times. We want to reach out to others. We want to feel heard. We want to check in with loved ones near and far. But when does necessary and meaningful communication slip to the tendency to use social media on autopilot, distracting ourselves from our feelings and not necessarily meeting our needs? Are we really connecting when we use all these online platforms? For me, I know it’s slipped from something positive and helpful to something negative and unhelpful when I start to notice I’m feeling disconnected – the very opposite of what I’m hoping for. Pushed too much, my nervous system gets overloaded and it adversely affects my FND. Perhaps I’m more sensitive to this than many, but I would guess it’s a continuum that affects everyone in some way.

It’s new territory for us all, as though none of us are quite sure what the social etiquette is as we try to adjust to this different way of living. I took a step back and checked in with my pacing, making a few changes and redefining some boundaries. I spoke to my Mum and sister and we set a few guidelines as to how we were going to communicate to ensure all our needs were met without becoming overwhelmed in the process. It really was that simple. 

So far it’s working well. I feel a greater sense of balance between reaching out and turning inwards. I feel less frazzled and more able to support myself and others during this time. I have also experienced some truly meaningful connections online. I have been sitting in virtual meditation halls alongside as many as 150 people. I don’t know names or individual stories, but sharing our practice in this way, knowing that we are all in this together, that ultimately we all want to be safe and well, gives rise to a deep and comforting sense of connection. Having just become part of the Breathworks Associate Online Teaching Team, I feel more determined than ever to use the internet wisely to reach out to others whilst continuing to support myself.

It’s an interesting process to observe; noticing with curiosity how we are all communicating, how we are using the amazing online resources available to us, and contemplating when they are of value and when they are not. Like so many things, I think it comes down to awareness, and using that awareness to respond to an ever-changing situation to help create a semblance of balance and feelings of wellbeing. What works today might look completely different tomorrow or next week.

You can read more about how I bring mindfulness to my use of the internet in a post I wrote three years ago – Intentional Internet.

My Burrow

‘Bedtime Stories’ by Jessica Boehman

I had put aside preparations for my Winter meditation retreat and I was curled up on my sofa, Bella purring beside me, both of us nestled in the warmth of my heated blanket. You never know how a retreat week will unfold, but in that moment my intentions felt so clear. I needed nurturing, warmth, cosiness and space. I needed to wrap myself up in care and compassion. I needed to gently hold my experiences, both pleasurable and painful, whilst allowing the retreat space and community to gently hold me. I could pull back a little; rest, restore, let things settle and fill myself up with compassion and courage, topping up my levels of resilience.

I often find images as powerful as words. They can capture a string of intentions in one single frame. I found a beautiful illustration that caught just what I needed. Looking at ‘Bedtime Stories’ by Jessica Boehman, I wasn’t just reminded of my intentions, I was feeling them. The girl reading, a little companion by her side. The bear and fox curled up in sleepy contentment. Soft, glowing light and warmth radiating within each burrow; vibrant, even within the peaceful, restful states. Even the night sky above has a kindness to it. Little stars of light and hope. Soft, wintery branches. Each glance brought to life the feelings of nurturing, warmth, cosiness and space. An opening of my body. A warming of my heart. A softening of my mind and a sigh of relief to have a peaceful inner space to rest in.

The image and feelings it evoked became a theme for my retreat week. During a loving kindness practice, I found myself imagining I was in the cosy cocoon of the tree roots, gradually welcoming others in one by one, making sure they were warm and comfortable and wrapping us all up in love and care. We sat around a fire, bright and glowing. We curled up on beanbags, wrapped up in soft blankets. We drank hot chocolate, sweet and comforting.

It was a lazy retreat, although I soon realised I was using the word lazy when I really meant letting go. Sleepy meditations. Cosy layers. Naps. Feeling no need to fill every space with activity. My Burrow has continued to be a place of refuge. Unlike the unhelpful avoidance and shutting down that I have swung towards in the past, it has given me a comforting place of respite from where I can continue to meet each moment with gentle, compassionate acceptance.

With thanks to Jessica at Hans My Hedgehog for her beautiful artwork and her permission to share.

Living With Mindfulness

“Mindfulness has saved her,” Mum told a friend who was wondering how I was possibly coping with another health crisis and emergency hospital admission. I often say myself, “my mindfulness practice got me through.” The last few weeks have been no exception.

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Lightness of Touch – My Practice Mindfulness for Health Course

‘Lightly child, lightly.’ It was week seven of my practice Mindfulness for Health course. I had just shared a passage by Aldous Huxley whilst guiding a Body Scan with an Open Heart emphasis. One participant described a feeling of lightness in her body and a sense of relief that in allowing experiences to come and go, they lost their intensity. Another, commented on how we can gently hold an experience, or we can grasp it, crushing it and creating tension and suffering for ourselves. The words supported me throughout the course, my mind and body softening each time I read them as I took a step back to see more clearly. Watching us enjoy that lightness was a delight. It hadn’t always been that way, for myself or for the group.

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Becoming My True Self

Final evening at Vajrasana

This is the final post in a series inspired by a week on retreat. You can read the first post, ‘The Gift of Kindness’ here, the second post, ‘Simplicity in Practice’ here and the third post, ‘What is Silence?’ here.

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Clear sky full of stars. Soft footsteps echoing through the cold night air. Wind howling around the courtyard. Wrapped up in coat, hat, scarf and gloves, protected and held by the walls of Vajrasana. Buddha sitting on his pool of rippling black water. Soft spot lights picking up textured seed heads. I walk a little with my walker, exhilarated, hopeful. I sit back in my wheelchair pulling my blanket around me as I allow my senses to awaken and my imagination to come alive.

The theme of imagination ran throughout much of the retreat. We were invited to let it into our practice and to play with it, from a place of embodiment so that we didn’t slip into fantasy. I often draw upon imagination in my meditations and I was delighted that it became a topic of the retreat; something that can feel at odds to mindfulness, but that can add such vibrancy and richness to our practice.

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What is Silence?

Rustling grasses in the courtyard at Vajrasana

This is the third in a series of posts inspired by a week on retreat. You can read the first post, ‘The Gift of Kindness’ here and the second post, ‘Simplicity in Practice’ here.

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What is silence? Is it the absence of sound, or maybe the absence of unnecessary sound? Stillness. Space. In music, silence is often more powerful than the notes – it takes courage, confidence, an assured performer. Perhaps the same is true in conversation? What about internal noise? Thoughts can be incredibly loud, even though others can’t hear them. Who needs to hear it for it to be a sound? Can you be silent within whilst the external world is noisy? Is silence even possible? Is it more a case of turning down the volume and tuning in to what is most necessary, valuable and important?

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Simplicity in Practice

Early morning at Vajrasana

This is the second in a series of posts inspired by a week on retreat. You can read the first post, ‘The Gift of Kindness’ here.

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“Soft hands, soft mind, soft heart.” – Vidyamala Burch

We arrived on retreat with our baggage to unpack. We had our suitcases and holdalls of physical belongings. We also had the psychological and emotional unpacking that would likely arise during the spacious time we were giving our meditation practice. 

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The Gift of Kindness

With Vidyamala Burch, Co-Founder of Breathworks

In December, I left the pre-Christmas chaos and travelled back to Vajrasana, Suffolk to spend a week on retreat. Led by Breathworks Co-Founders, Vidyamala and Sona, and senior trainers, MJ and Andrea, ‘A Journey into the Heart of Mindfulness and Compassion’ was an opportunity to immerse myself in my practice after focusing on teacher training, and a chance to look inward and reflect before the year came to an end. It was an inspiring and uplifting week, and has led to a series of blog posts, this being the first.

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Letting Go, Letting In

‘November again. It’s more like winter than autumn. That’s not mist. It’s fog.

The sycamore seeds hit the glass in the wind like – no, not like anything else, like sycamore seeds hitting window glass.

There’s been a couple of windy nights. The leaves are stuck to the ground with the wet. The ones on the paving are yellow and rotting, wanwood, leafmeal. One is so stuck that when it eventually peels away, its leafshape left behind, shadow of a leaf, will last on the pavement till next spring. 

The furniture in the garden is rusting. They’ve forgotten to put it away for the winter.

The trees are revealing their structures. There’s the catch of fire in the air. All the souls are out marauding. But there are roses, there are still roses. In the damp and the cold, on bush that looks done, there’s a wide-open rose, still.

Look at the colour of it.’

‘Autumn’ by Ali Smith

Autumn. It’s a bittersweet time. The light fades, the leaves fall, and yet we’re dazzled by golden colours and excited by seasonal festivities. The hedges outside the window are almost bare, but there are fresh green shoots of bulbs eagerly waiting for Spring. And yes, there’s a wide-open rose, still.

Just like nature, our brains have to let go in order to let in. Neuroplasticity isn’t only about developing and strengthening new neural pathways, but also clearing old ones. This is important if we’re to move forward in our lives, rather than being stuck in a never ending cycle of the same.Read More

Christopher Robin

“Doing nothing often leads to the very best of something.” (Winnie the Pooh)

It was a rainy Sunday afternoon when I went to see Christopher Robin at my local community cinema. I expected to hear comforting words of wisdom from Winnie the Pooh and friends, and they didn’t disappoint,  but I hadn’t realised just how timely the plot would be or how moved I would feel by this playful reminder of what is important in life and how easy it is to lose sight of our values.Read More