Funny isn’t it, how the ego so easily muscles its way into our endeavours without us noticing it;  when I first started this blog, I just sat down and wrote – with no expectation – whatever came to me on the day.  Now I know I have people who actually look forward to this little bit of nonsense, I find I feel a sense of obligation to somehow deliver something that will amuse and entertain….something that people will tell me they enjoyed reading.

But I also know that what I really want to write about this month might not deliver the goods.
So, what to do….?

Do I do the ‘sensible’ thing, and write to please, or do I take the risk of doing something to please myself…?  – knowing that when I reject the sensible route, I’m often berated, and yet when I try and please others, I usually end up feeling I’ve betrayed myself.

And the real laugh is that I only started this blog as a way of directing traffic to my Juice site!  Does it really matter, L.J.?  Isn’t it really all just an ego-trip…??

Maybe. 

But it got me to thinking how often we either do or don’t do (or say) something for fear of upsetting others, and/or through fear of the consequences?  Anybody who considers themselves to be remotely spiritual will be aware of the commandment: ‘To thine own self be true’…..a Shakespearian take on Plato’s dissertation to ‘Know Thyself’, but how many of us honestly adhere to such lofty aspirations?

And what would that be like if we did?  What would it feel like?  And what on earth would the ramifications be?

It’s sometimes too huge an ask, and it’s often so much easier to tow the party line [whatever that is in our own social circles] and do what we think is expected of us.  And isn’t it just waaaay to selfish to consider just our own wants and needs;  surely the collective good of all demands that we put the common good before our own?

Identifying the demarcation line between the often conflicting needs of self and other(s) can be quite a conundrum, and the process of adaptation and socialisation begins from the day we’re born, and usually requires that we learn to be quiet and do as we’re told…..and often, the result is that we lose sight of ourselves, and essentially disappear in the quantum soup of conformity we call everyday life.

 
And the underlying dynamic – as I’ve uncovered over and over again in my years of running classes and therapy sessions – is that either as a cause or a consequence, on one level or another, we all suffer from a basic core belief that somehow, we’re not good enough.  And that applies irrespective of appearances to the contrary;  in fact, I’d go so far as to say that the more appearances there are to the contrary, the deeper entrenched that feeling of lack and inferiority actually is.  Which perhaps goes a long way to explaining why so many people jettison what really matters to them, in favour of what is deemed acceptable to and by others.  And in so doing, we don a metaphorical mask and ultimately become invisible.

And I’d say that this applies – at least some of the time – to us all.

And therein lies our common humanity;  we’re all doing the best we can, often in very difficult and challenging circumstances, all hiding from each other as well as ourselves, and trying to bolster up the story that we’re ‘fine’…whilst knowing that at best, it’s only ever true some of the time.  And so all manner of illusory devices and smokescreens are concocted, just to prevent us from facing each other in the power of the truth of who and what we essentially are.

Christmas is, of course, the ultimate smokescreen in so many ways;  a time when vast fortunes are spent trying to preserve the idealist facade, and creating those wistful feelings of safety and contentment that have lined the pockets of many an ad agency executive for decades ever since Coca-Cola first put Santa in a red suit.

But reality….?  Hardly!

I will never forget the look of utter sadness and despair that crossed my eldest daughter’s face once, many years ago, as we stood in the queue to see Father Christmas;  she became increasingly quiet, and eventually mumbled that she didn’t think she wanted to participate after all that year.  I knew then that a bubble had burst, and Christmas would never be quite the same again, and I felt enormously guilty for having colluded in perpetuating something which was essentially a myth.  Okay, a lie.  Of course she wouldn’t foist such an ultimately hurtful illusion upon her own children….would she….?  Interestingly, it turns out that she would;  she feels that the magic of believing was worth the eventual disappointment of knowing.

So, if a story is better than the truth, why not be content to believe….why aim for authenticity or reality at all?  Maybe we would all be better off ensconced in Matrix-like cocoons, where – as in the film – we’re programmed to believe pieces of plastic are delicious fillet steak…? (or whatever our particular yen would be)  Maybe we’re there already.

And where do our individual beliefs and stories take us?  It’s easy to see that religious differences have torn us apart for millennia, and it seems nothing is about to change anytime soon. His-tory [and her-story, of course] is always going to be subjective, and scholars know full well that the account of any incident will be different depending upon the stance and viewpoint of the commentator.

And surely that’s a good thing.  We’re all totally unique;  there has never been another YOU, and there never will be again.  Nobody else has your DNA, your experiences and your temperament – and that applies to all of us.  In that context, there is inevitably going to be diversity, discussion and differences of opinion…it’s perfectly natural, normal and it’s how we stretch, adapt and grow.

But of course, there will be conflict whenever those differing viewpoints lead to inexplicable behaviour and uninvited personal consequences.  And never more so than with gender differences.  Seminal influences such as Germaine Greer’s ‘Female Eunuch’ rang in the ears of a whole generation of strident feminists in the 70’s;  the message being that women had become “separated from their libido, from their faculty of desire, from their sexuality”, and that as a result, they’d developed a sense of shame about their own bodies, and lost their natural and political autonomy, with resultant powerlessness, isolation, a diminished sexuality and lack of joy.  Her incendiary battle cry was that women claim the power of choice which had been denied our forebears, a message which – strangely enough given my own feminist leanings – is considered absolute hogwash by both my daughters, who believe that any feelings of powerlessness come from a woman herself, and that women are absolutely equal to men, but fundamentally different.

And perhaps such opinions are the proof that it was all worthwhile, and that unwittingly, contemporary young women have reaped the benefits of feminist militancy, and have become fully empowered within the context of ‘different’ without any requirement to be ‘same’.

 Hellelujah!

But wait.

A story recently reached my ears about an intimate interaction resulting in an accusation of rape – something vehemently denied by the man involved, who admits the basic act but rejects the label, asserting that it was merely a misunderstanding. 

And subsequent discussions with four close female friends reveal that two of them have also been subjected to the same violation, which due to the intimate nature of their circumstances, they felt powerless to report;  and further conversations with my youngest daughter reveal that ‘loads’ of her friends at uni have been in identical situations.

So, just how much have things really changed in the last forty years?

Greer may have promulgated female liberation and encouraged women to explore their innate sexuality, but whilst our libidos may have well and truly woken up, it seems that conditioning still pervades behavioural patterns, and due to a chronically diminished sense of Self, women (and men in a different way) are at risk from their own blindness to the fact that if we’re already hiding from ourselves, we’re apt to lose ourselves still further in sexually charged situations, in which loss of the ego is a worthy and beautiful attribute.

How to square this circle…? 

Perhaps that time-honoured Christmas message provides an answer.

LOVE

What if we could learn – as a wise and enlightened mystic suggested a couple of thousand years ago -  first and foremost to love ourselves, and then to love our neighbour?  And to have that as our default setting, and proceed in the world from that vantage point….

I’m by no means the first person to suggest this, and neither will I be the last, but I hope that somehow, here, today, this little message will make a difference.

Love is an inside job;  it starts from US.  It means taking care of ourselves, and listening to that little voice when it tries to tell us something doesn’t feel right.  And it has no expectations of others, only of ourselves.  It comes from a place of understanding that we are ultimately the only adult for whom we are responsible, and that it is not our job to caretake the effect that our empowered opinions and conscious decisions may have upon other people.

So, by all means, let’s say Yes to life, but also be empowered enough to say No in certain situations – as, if we can’t say No, our Yes is meaningless.

And this will sometimes mean being un-PC;  of daring to be misunderstood, disliked or shunned.  And in my case, this is going to mean that I accept that some of you will be a little uncomfortable, irritated or irked with what I’m writing this month.

My work has always been about freedom, healing and liberation;  I’m not a moralist nor a judge.  But the message I want to convey is that freedom carries responsibility, and we need to trust ourselves before we trust someone else, and not to assume anything or expect certain modes of behaviour from anybody except ourselves. 

And to do that, we need to love ourselves first.  And that, perhaps, is the ultimate spiritual path. 

In fact, it may be the ONLY spiritual path.

And although I’m sorry if any of you find this un-entertaining, I’m glad I’ve loved myself enough to risk writing what I really wanted to say. 

Let’s enjoy presence with our presents this year, and always.

 

And both will be in plentiful supply at Juice on the 19th.  Join us for our special brand of Christmas magic, with nurturing fun & games and warm connections.

www.juice-kent.co.uk