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Category: freedom

Setting Sail Into Unknown Waters

Do you grasp the opportunity or yearn for the safety of the familiar?

First published in Medium 05/10/2022

Image created by author using Midjourney

I have had good chunks of my life where I lived a life I love. They always happened when I stopped thinking about my security and prioritised adventure. I left the arid land of secure jobs and pensions and sailed out on my own. I discarded detailed plans, goals and targets. I pointed myself at the horizon with no destination in mind. I trusted that the power of my passion and excitement would fill my sails and carry me into some unknown world that would feed my soul.

One real sailing adventure in my teens has provided me with a metaphor that I can apply to any point in my life where I have changed direction, set myself free, and embraced freedom and excitement.

The same metaphor has helped me identify times when the opposite is true. I have been following someone else’s rules; I have been stuck in a place where I am afraid to give voice to my ideas for fear of rocking the boat. I have had the wind knocked out of my sails. Daily, I am rowing back and forth and exhausting myself, like the ferryman in The Giant with Three Golden Hairs. I am unable to discover the simple solution to my cursed life. A delusion drives me to say this is the only way to keep myself afloat financially.

Breaking the rules, escaping the moorings.

In my late teens, I felt very lost. I had been trying to live a double life.

One version of me dressed smartly and went to school, only to sit bored all day dreaming of what I could do if society did not force me to go.

The other version was constantly creative. Drawing, painting, writing poems, songs and stories, singing in choirs, acting in plays, teaching myself to play the guitar and piano, and inviting friends over to listen to the latest album by Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd or King Crimson.

On this day, I had failed two of my three A-Level exams, and my latest girlfriend was off to Paris. I had no plan of what to do next. I could not get into University or College, but it was clear that academic life was not for me. I was adrift with no clue of what was calling me, apart from a vague notion of being a rockstar.

I drove with a brother down to our Grandparents, who lived in a tiny cottage nestled into the cliffs in South Cornwall. There was a good wind, and I wanted to get in our sailing boat Sonia and feel freedom away from all pressures and expectations.

My grandad nodded when I voiced my intention and then removed his pipe from his mouth and said.
“Stay in the harbour; there’s a wind out there.”

I nodded and went to the boatshed to collect sails, life jacket and rudder. Leaving them at the top of the landing stage, I slipped through the dark alleyway between boatshed and rocks to the little rocky cove where the rowing boat was moored up. I rowed out to Sonia, switched moorings, returned her to the landing stage and rigged up sails.

All set, I let the sails grab the wind and soon I was out in the large harbour feeling that wonderful heady mix of freedom and control. However, it wasn’t enough. The safety of the harbour felt like a prison. I could see the ocean beyond the two blockhouses which, for centuries have marked and protected the entrance to the harbour.

I had been obeying the rules for too long, staring at the ocean out of the classroom window, not wanting to be there but having no possibility of being anywhere else.

It was not a conscious process to continue my tacking journey past the ferries, the two harbour tugs and all the moored yachts and leisure craft. I didn’t even consider my Grandad’s warning. I sailed past them all and into the swell of the ocean. It felt good, and I felt free.

In a matter of minutes, I realised that the storm I was sailing into was too much for the tiny wooden sailing dinghy of which I was master. With each tack, the swell increased, and each wave began to deposit increasing amounts of water into the front of the boat. I was exhilarated, but I had not considered the difficulties of turning back.

This challenge occupied me now. I needed to choose my moment as I crested a wave. Was the distance from the next enough for me to swing 180 degrees without being caught and tipped sideways into the angry sea? After I had crashed through a few more waves, I saw my chance. I jammed the tiller away from me, ducked under the boom and held my breath for a second until I felt the reassuring thud as the wind took control of the sail.

Now I was surfing into the harbour with the wind behind me. There were no feelings other than contentment. I had risked stepping into the unknown and had the skills and knowledge to face the challenge and survive.

The unseen safety net.

I was unaware of the unseen safety net until I was lying in my bunk below my brother that night.

I returned late that afternoon, moored both boats and stored the sails. The cottage did not boast “new-fangled” things like showers or constant hot water, so I warmed myself on a mug of tea. My Grandparents said nothing about my little adventure as we sat together eating the evening meal and then playing draughts.

I learnt from the shipping forecast that we had been experiencing force four gales, which was building.

Later my brother whispered to me from the bunk above.

“Grandad was watching you the whole time.”

“What do you mean?”

“The minute he saw you were heading out he was on his feet and asked me to come too. He had his binoculars, and we were headed to the cliffs stopping at the phone box on the way.”

“Who did he phone?”

“The coastguard. They put the lifeboat crew on alert. We were watching you from the cliff. Grandad said the lifeboat had the engines going, and if you capsized, I had to run to the phonebox and let them know. They would be with you in two minutes.”

I wonder now how much that unseen safety net my grandfather created was influencing and encouraging me to take risks, or giving me a safe platform from which to launch myself.

A few months after this experience I jumped on a train to London, and within a week I rented a flat and secured a job. My great adventure away from the safety of my parent’s world had begun.

Reminding me to step into the unknown

That feeling of going through the motions, living in one world while yearning to be in another has returned to me many times throughout my life. I also recognise how the frustration builds until I finally break through and how that process is not conscious. I wonder how much I am creating my own unseen safety net and how that contributes to the moment when my intuition says, “Now is the time.”

All logic and thoughts of consequences are suspended, and I head out into the unknown past the harbour walls.

If you would like help creating a sense of freedom and adventure in your life contact me through my website.

October 7, 2022
The Door To Another World

Are you willing to take the risk to step through?

Image created by author

The journey of self-awareness holds many opportunities to step through a door into another world. It may feel like there will be no way to turn back should you find the new world is not to your liking. It is a one-way door, but the danger of staying stuck in old patterns and behaviours is far greater than any risks to your well-being from moving through the door.

There is discomfort in living in a world you have outgrown.

We have a choice of whether to step through the door or not, but imagine the discomfort a crab would feel if it could not shed its outer shell and allow a new larger one to grow in its place. Imagine the discomfort of a snake reluctant to shed skin which has become too small. If you keep putting off stepping into a new world, you will gradually feel the discomfort building until it is unbearable.

Somewhere along that timeline of discomfort is when many people seek counselling. For the first few sessions, all we can focus on is the discomfort you are feeling. As a Counsellor, I listen to and help clients identify places where the shell no longer fits.

The new life is calling from beyond the doorway, and you begin to hear its enchanting sound alongside the constant chatter of your discomfort.

Begin focusing on the enchanting sound from beyond the doorway

Some people have already heard the call, which has drawn them to therapy. They yearn to pass through the door, but the large rucksack full of past experiences prevents them. Maybe they need to pause a while, to unload all the baggage they have carried for so long and consider it all carefully. They will need to repack parts that have served them well and discard the rest.

Often this process of sorting is enough, everyone is different, and as a therapist, I cannot predict or control your process. On several occasions, clients have reported feeling “much lighter” after the first session. Others will take several weeks before they even recognise a door is there inviting them to enter another world.

At some point, the client walks in, and I am aware they are in the process of moving through that door into the unknown world. There is a lightness of being that I have not noticed before. There is a sense that I am no longer needed.

How will you know when you have stepped through?

A common sign that clients have begun to pass through the door is that they are running out of things to talk about. Any regular complaints, anxieties, shaming or blaming, anger and frustrations have melted away.

By examining all these things in detail, taking responsibility and developing an empathic understanding of yourself and others, they no longer exert a hold over you.

How will you make sense of what has happened?

Trying to make sense of it will probably be the thing that holds you on the threshold, unable to take that final step. Some people like to hold up psychological theories, astrological predictions, and maps of spiritual pathways trying to make sense of their process by looking at it through the lens of someone considered an expert.

Be like one of my clients who came to me for over 20 weeks with all manner of conflicts and anxieties in his life. He walked in on the 21st session, and I expected his usual update. Instead, he said

“None of it matters anymore. Nothing has changed, but all the things I reacted to before don’t matter anymore.”

He then went on to describe his process in a metaphor.

“It’s like I was on a spider’s web, but all I could see was the small section in front of me. Wherever I went, there was danger. Now I can see the whole web from above and how everything is connected. A small disturbance in one part of the web ripples across the whole web.”

He was a man who liked to rationalise everything, but he had realised that he would never know what had caused the change in his reactions or understand what I had done to help him with that change. He had pushed open the door and was ready to enter the unknown.

Is that the end of therapy, then?

For some, it may be enough to step through the door. Others may need continued support to survive in this unknown world. I have returned to therapy on several occasions over 37 years. Each time I have discovered a new door, I need to pass through to yet another unknown world.

How do you know when there is another world calling?

One of the most obvious triggers is trauma of any kind. I have had the trauma of a tumour causing the loss of hearing in one ear (I am a musician, it is a big deal), the collapse of my business and my daughter’s death.

Each trauma was accompanied by a voice calling from an unknown world. The physical circumstances of my life had changed, and to survive, I had to change my whole relationship with life itself.

Sometimes I reacted quickly, and other times it was a tortuous process where I was hanging onto something from the past. I thought I needed it to support me when it kept me anchored in a pattern I had outgrown.

Responding to the invitation

One of the most familiar phrases clients use is “I’m overthinking it”, which will certainly not help you here. The door to another world leads to an unknown future. If you start planning or trying to predict the steps on your journey, you will stay firmly planted in your present struggles and difficulties. Any worries about what the future may hold will only serve as an anchor to the past.

The journey could be short or long, but if you dare to take the first step and trust in an unknown future, it has already begun.

If you are wondering more about what it actually involves to begin therapy, I have written a newer piece on that: [Crossing the Threshold: What It Really Means to Begin Therapy]

Get in touch if you want some support along the way.

Contact

www.Johnwaltercounsellor.com

September 26, 2022
Being In Relationship
It’s not about dating apps

Image created by author on Midjourney

Dating apps convince you that you are doing a relationship, but that is quite a different thing from being in a relationship.

Being in relationship

We will take a few steps back and look at everything it takes to be in a relationship with others. Maybe you can dump the apps and start living a life where you nurture your relationship with yourself first, and every other relationship flows from that.

Take a few more steps back to see the moment you were born. Yeah, that moment. The only relationship you had was with your mother from the inside to the outside. All sorts of stuff can kick off there. You are ripe for abandonment, neglect, abuse or being hurt. Maybe you were lucky and got a lovely big dose of care and attention, and then a bit further down the line, it all went a bit weird. Yeah, I can’t seem to write even one sentence with a fairytale ending.

Whatever you had to go through was your relationship training ground. Every cell in your body grew in childhood and took on patterns and relationships from your environment.

Childhood is your training ground for relationships

My family were not touchy-feely. My parents restricted physical contact to functionality. A boil on the bum meant I could lie across my mum’s lap while she took a needle to it. Being a bit pathetic at drying myself after a bath meant I got a good roughing up with a towel.

I needed touch then, and I still need it now. Do those strategies born of neediness still creep into every relationship? You bet they do.

What have you dragged from your childhood into every adult relationship?

Do all your romantic partners start out wonderful and then begin to metamorphose into someone with many similar characteristics to one or both of your parents?

Lots of things are going on here. Your childhood is your training ground for relationships. You learn how to interpret and live with your emotions in connection with those around you as a child.

When you move into independent adulthood, you are naturally drawn to relationships that reflect your relationship with your parents and family. You feel safe there. It is familiar. You have spent almost 20 years surviving in a particular relational environment. All your responses, habits and behaviour patterns have been integrated into your body/mind as a safe and sensible approach to life.

One of my survival techniques or patterns was to be the peacemaker, keep a low profile, and be calm in the face of chaos. This is a handy set of characteristics when growing up in a large, noisy and mildly dysfunctional family. It is quite an attractive characteristic; as an adult, it has drawn many people to me.

But what is the downside?

What am I missing out on ?

What am I dragging into all relationships as a result?

Recognising the relational baggage you carry

There are different approaches to this task depending on your processing style.
1. Thinkers: Look at your thoughts around relationships. What do you believe about yourself? What do you believe about others?
2. Feelers: Visualise interactions with a parent when you were a child. What do you feel as you negotiate these moments in time? Do you recognise these feelings in current relationships in the workplace or in your social life?
3. Action takers: List the times in childhood when you could not take action, were frozen or took yourself away from situations that immobilised you. Do you now avoid similar problems, or have you begun to face them?
4. Seekers: Imagine you are carrying a large backpack on a long journey. You set it down, take out each item in the pack, and lay it in front of you. Explore what each item represents.
Whatever your baggage, your current relationships are influenced by what you carry.

I can’t advise you what to do next.

You have recognised a belief or an obstacle, a recurring feeling of discomfort or a symbolic item you brought with you from childhood into your life as an adult.

Now is your opportunity to transform that, and only you know how. It may be that by simply recognising the thought, feeling, obstacle or symbol, you can acknowledge the echo from the past and decide whether it is helpful to you now in the present.

You may need to start by going through a process where you develop a stronger, more loving relationship with yourself. Notice when you judge yourself, regard yourself in a negative light, or behave in a way that does not reflect your true self.

I recognise and acknowledge that my relationship with myself is where all other relationships begin or fail.

My ongoing challenges and how I meet them

I often find myself in communication, where my automatic response is to keep the peace. I walk away from challenging conversations and avoid confronting bad practices or behaviour. I resign rather than negotiate further. I give in rather than argue.

I am now noticing my responses, but instead of shutting down or stepping away, I acknowledge what I am feeling to myself. This is often enough. If I am feeling threatened or attacked, acknowledging the feeling is enough to stop me from reacting in my usual way. I can stay in the conversation. I can gather my thoughts and find ways to express myself that connect me to that person rather than create a wall.

Whatever your relationship challenge, dating apps will not solve it. Focus on your relationship with yourself, and maybe dating apps will be a useful tool to get you out there and practise your new skill of being in relationship.

If you need more help, get in touch

First published in Medium September 2022
September 20, 2022
Father’s Day Is A Nightmare
But brings back precious memories

John Walter 📣

Jun 23 · 4 min read

Holly and me – by author

I have two daughters. Holly lived life on full throttle for 28 years and then stopped. Two years after this photograph on a hot summer morning, she sent her last text to me, “Love you, daddy”, and took her own life. Like everything she did, Holly thoroughly researched and planned this final act, and it was sure to be successful.

She won’t send me a card, text, or Whatsapp message for my third Father’s Day. So I sit here sifting through memories and wondering what it means to be a dad, father, daddy.

She trained me well. I had strict instructions to prepare my wedding speech and write notes. She didn’t want any of that improvised waffly nonsense I was famous for. It worked, and I delivered a humdinger. I was the father of the day.

Now I am a bereaved father, and no one has written a manual for that, and I haven’t got Holly to tell me how to do it. So I can’t ring her up and ask her to talk me through the steps like she did when she organised that cheap phone for me through her insurance.

An anecdote in the wedding speech recalled a time when four girls were in the bath. Holly was the youngest, but her strength of personality was such that the three other girls started chanting and splashing the water.
“Holly is the boss! Holly is the boss!”

At times of indecision, all of us still have the thought, “What would Holly do?
```
I have lost my centre. I have lost the guidebook. I am a tourist that does not want to be on holiday. Not here. Not now.
```
Father’s Day arrived with a card from my eldest daughter and was soon followed by a phone call. But it all feels messy. How can I love one daughter without the other? So I spend the day with sadness dragging around my feet and love and joy carrying me forward in a lurching fashion.

I walk to the cliffs and watch the local youth surfing some beautiful waves. I want to be out there with them, but I know my balance and bones won’t allow that. So I sit in the Cornish mizzle, a spectator on life.

Holly’s death has been a catalyst that has transformed my life. The week after she died, I signed up for a Counselling course. Tomorrow I hand in my last bit of written work. Yesterday I attended an induction course for a new job I will soon begin as a counsellor for young people.

Before Holly died, I was directionless, downsized, living in a beautiful place, a retired teacher who never wanted to teach again.

The trauma of Holly taking her own life was like a lightning strike that energised me and reconnected me with my passion.

I am a father. Of course, I doubt whether I did a good enough job.

I have days of obsessing around the details of a conversation. Would it have made a difference if I had said …? Could I have changed the course of her life?

That question feels rich when it is so tricky to affect any change to the course of my own life. How could I possibly manufacture a perfect upbringing for my children? My own childhood was pretty idyllic and privileged, but something was missing, meaning I have never felt fulfilled or entirely content.

If it has taken me over 50 years and many hours of therapy to get to that realisation and still not pin it down exactly to specific causes, what hope was there of single-handedly creating the perfect environment for my children?

I have learnt a powerful lesson from my counselling training about being congruent. This is one of the core conditions of Person-centred counselling. As a teacher, I was not congruent. My authentic self sat on the sidelines while I trundled out government-approved garbage.

As a counsellor, I can be congruent. I can be my authentic self. I can notice how I am thinking and feeling when I am with a client. Then, rather than deflecting or dismissing those thoughts and feelings, I can make decisions in the moment on whether it is helpful to share them.

I wish I had developed that skill while Holly was still alive. I have so many memories of conversations with her that started well and then seemed to hit a brick wall. So often with a cheery smile and “I’m fine.” Maybe my counselling skills could have created a chink in that wall that we could have worked on over the years.

I am under no illusions, though. Just because someone is labelled father doesn’t mean they necessarily have any control or rights over their progeny. Congruent or not, every child is an independent living being with their own path to follow.

Father’s day passes, and I know I love being a father, whatever form it takes. But, I also know there is more to it than those traditional roles of breadwinner and protector. Sometimes I was so focused on breadwinning that I failed to protect. Sometimes everything was out of kilter, but I was there. I stayed present.

Holly — I wouldn’t have missed your wedding for the world. I still treasure the 60th birthday lunch you organised at Ronnie Scotts. I even treasure memories of you moaning all the way on a walk around the Lizard. I love the videos of you singing with your choir and the memories of family harmonies in the car.

I wish I could have spoken to you on Father’s day but hey! Thank you for all those beautiful memories over 28 years.
July 13, 2021
My Struggle With Intimacy Began At Birth
followed by a roller coaster ride that still continues

John Walter 📣May 4 · 7 min read

Intimacy is a big thing. Something we are programmed to seek out from birth. It is human instinct to seek connection and closeness with others. It begins with our mother as we seek physical intimacy for survival. Physical intimacy also has a role in the survival of the species.

Often the concept of intimacy is collapsed down into this single idea—physical intimacy or touch. It is, in fact, a much broader idea.

You could break intimacy down into four parts:
1. Physical
2. Emotional
3. Mental
4. Spiritual
Troubles arise where we collapse these all together.

I have had a rocky journey with intimacy. I have sought out intimacy with others without exploring the intimate relationship I have with myself. I will share some of these ups and downs and hope you find them useful for your own journey.

Let us begin with a quote from Osho:

“The capacity to be alone is the capacity to love. It may look paradoxical to you, but it’s not. It is an existential truth: only those people who are capable of being alone are capable of love, of sharing, of going into the deepest core of another person — without possessing the other, without becoming dependent on the other, without reducing the other to a thing, and without becoming addicted to the other. They allow the other absolute freedom, because they know that if the other leaves, they will be as happy as they are now. Their happiness cannot be taken by the other, because it is not given by the other.”

― Osho

Being Left to Cry Under the Cherry Tree

My mum already had three sons when I was born. She says I was the one that cried the most, and she was worried about it. Understandably and typical of the times, I spent much of the day lying in a pram. If I cried too much, mum would wheel me out into the garden, well out of earshot, and place me under a cherry blossom tree.

I have considered this image a lot. A baby cries to create a connection with the parent. Mum will pick them up and work out what their needs are. Physical contact may be enough, or a feed or nappy change. What happens when they are put out of earshot and their cries ignored?

It feels like something around my need for intimacy was interrupted here. I am not judging my mum’s behaviour, just wondering what I made of it in my baby-brain way. The image often comes back to me. I sense I liked being under the cherry tree. I found a way to soothe myself by watching the soft pink petals in the sunlight.

Was it here that I began to crave physical intimacy with a sense that I would never get it? Was it here that I found that I could soothe myself by focusing on beautiful things, but there would always be a yearning in the background?

Here I am, 60 years later, and I have a wonderfully intimate relationship with my mum on a mental, emotional and spiritual plane. I have accepted and respect she does not want hugs or kisses on the cheek or any of that soppy nonsense.

Sewing Up My Pockets

So this is a physical bit; cover up your ears, mum! I was five, and I was very tactile, and mum decided that I spent far too long with my hands in my pockets, and I wasn’t playing with a couple of conkers and a worm that I had found in the garden.

She sewed them up. Verbal threats had failed, and it was the only thing left to do.

I craved touch and cuddles, and they were not on offer. This is not a complaint or a judgement. It was the ’60s; there were all sorts of bonkers ideas going around about how to bring up children.

So I was taught how to shake hands when a grown-up offered theirs, and I delighted in rare cuddle moments when my mum had to lance a boil on my bum, clean out my ears or squeeze my zits.

Any other physical contact was considered perverted. I understood that masturbation was a sin. Physical intimacy with yourself or another was something you probably had to put up with at some point in your life, but it’d be best to avoid it.

A Totally Confused Teenager

Deprived of physical intimacy and weighed down with shame for craving touch, I began dating girls. What a nightmare that was!

I was a cute geek. I fell in love with anyone that let me stroke their hair. I could sit for hours in the cinema, just breathing in patchouli oil and waiting for a chance to brush my hand against theirs.

Allowing me a tiny amount of physical intimacy sent me into a love-spin.

My mind was fried by conflicting pressure from peers and older brothers.

“Have you done this? Have you done that? Has she let you …….. ?”

It was as if it was a competition and the girl was just an object to be conquered, a series of challenges. If I didn’t complete them, I was obviously gay. I didn’t want to be part of this.

I just wanted to feel close to another human and make a connection. I could snog for hours on end, and I loved just touching and talking. I could become obsessed with smooth skin that felt like velvet.

Marrying Too Young

I was obsessed with physical intimacy to the exclusion of all else. The first time I met a woman and clicked physically, I thought this was true love. I had to marry her.

The marriage was doomed and lasted four years. I had no idea how to have a rounded intimate relationship. I was not even remotely emotionally literate. We had very little in common on an intellectual level and rarely knew what to say to each other.

Spiritually we were both lost causes, blindly flailing about in life, trying to make sense of all the conflicting messages, and having no idea who we authentically were.

Separating Intimacy from Love

Many years have passed, and I have been married to my second wife for 37 years. We are intimate with each other on all four levels (physical, mental, emotional, spiritual), and it all fluctuates wildly.

I have noticed that whenever I gain any level of intimacy with another, I get very confused. Particularly as a musician, this becomes a problem. Improvising music with someone is a very intimate act. I can enter into the zone with someone, and it is almost as if we are one. There is no separation between us. This is a sort of spiritual intimacy.

On several occasions, I have got swept up in this as if I was in love. I have not had the conceptual framework for separating these things. I seem to have no holistic understanding that I can be intimate intellectually, emotionally, or spiritually with someone. Physical intimacy does not have to be a part of that.

It is only very recently, in the context of a therapy group, that I have realised that I can be intimate with many people in many ways. I have learnt to separate it out and value it just as it is.

The Paradox of Intimacy

I have been afraid of intimacy on any of the four levels. I collapsed them all together, so obviously, if I am intimate emotionally with someone, then all the other three must follow, and that can’t work, so I must avoid any kind of intimacy at all costs.

If I allow myself to be intimate with anyone, all my relationships will collapse, and I will be alone.

I have felt so alone avoiding intimacy so I won’t feel alone.

The Freedom of Intimacy

Training to be a counsellor has brought me the freedom I have sought. The Counsellor/Client relationship is about as intimate as you can be. The work depends on it.

The work also depends on the boundaries around it. I will choose to be intimate with you for one hour a week. That’s it—no vagueness around the edges. You will learn to be intimate, and I will learn to be intimate, and then we will walk away from each other and go about our daily tasks. Both of us can bring more intimacy into our lives through this process.

I am really learning to be intimate with myself, as intimacy with another depends on that.

I am becoming intimate with my body. Sensing what it is trying to tell me, learning to listen to all the emotions it has stored up for so many years. Intimate with my emotions, learning they are coded messages from the past, not prescriptions for the future. Learning intimacy with my mind, noting the patterns of thought that automatically click into place and what triggers them.

All this opens up the space for intimacy with my soul. What gives my life purpose and meaning? Can I learn to hear that voice above all the others?

I’ll be sure to post updates on this journey.
May 4, 2021
How To Overcome Any Obstacle
A creative approach to success and productivity

First published on Medium 23/03/21

I am not making ridiculous claims in my title. I will detail below a creative approach to working with any obstacle or block life throws at you. I will give an example from my own life, where I have applied this approach.

The only thing I ask of you is that you find a way of being open to working with metaphor.

As a quick practice in this, look at the title picture. Ask yourself some questions.
- When have I ever hit a wall in my life?
- Did I give up and walk away?
- Did I smash it down, climb over it, find ways around it, tunnel under it or find a gateway I could walk through?
- Did I spend the rest of my life asleep on this side of the wall?
- Could I have done something differently?
- Did I see it as an obstacle but miss the opportunity?
Turning Obstacles Into Opportunities

Nelson Mandela was incarcerated for 27 years, but he used that time very creatively. For him and many, his incarceration became an opportunity to work toward freedom.

Failing a job interview can be seen as a setback or an opportunity to identify and develop the skills you need to secure a job you love.

Having your heart broken can become an obstacle to ever being in a relationship again, or it can be an opportunity to explore how you relate and deepen your connection with yourself and others.

Our logical mind is very good at identifying all the obstacles in our path. To identify the opportunities hidden in the wall’s bricks, we need to access our creative mind. We need to let our soul and emotions have a voice.

I imagine some of you are about to click away. That is your logical mind getting in on the act. What is it saying? “I’ve got no imagination — I’m not creative — this is arty-farty bullshit” or something along those lines? So, by all means, click away. I will shout to you as you leave.

“That’s what you always do — at the first obstacle you back away — your loss — once again, you have missed an opportunity.”

Find Your Own Approach to Working With Metaphor

The possibilities are endless here. Many readers may be writers. In that case, write the story, maybe draft several versions until you find the one that fits.

If you are an artist, draw some images. Musicians could write a song. Many people use mindfulness and visualisation techniques. Poets will find their way in verse.

Marketing executives can start applying their juicy language to their own lives.

Imagery — the core of metaphoric language — will surprise, grab, inform, and persuade your [readers] as mere explanation will not. Vivid language will distinguish you from the swarm, will make you heard above the drone, will make you that rare person today: a communicator who gets results. ~ Anne Miller

If you are new to this malarkey, I am asking you to communicate with yourself. The technique does not matter. You have everything you need right now. You don’t need to learn something new or go on a course or google endlessly “how to work with metaphor”.

In Working With Metaphor, You Can Bypass Your Habitual Logical Thinking Processes

Faced with a real wall like the one in the picture, how would your logical mind respond? Would you get on Google Maps and find a way around it? Keep walking until you found a gate? Decide that you have stumbled upon someone else’s private property and go somewhere else?

Now think of an obstacle in your life. That job you really wanted, the friend you no longer talk to because of a misunderstanding, getting your creative work published or exhibited.

Are you applying only logical thought processes to this issue? Is it working?

When Business trainers use the metaphorical phrase “thinking outside of the box,” they suggest you step outside of the box created by your logical thinking mind and access all the other things at your disposal.

Use your intuition, think creatively, visualise a different solution, imagine you have already solved the problem and work from there.

Time For an Example

I was working as a teacher, a freelance musician and a performing storyteller.

My heart was not in teaching. I felt trapped. I wanted to do more creative work, but I could not make enough money to survive on that alone.

I wrote a story and started performing it, and it was not until I had performed it several times that I realised I had discovered the answer to my own dilemma through writing the story.

The Basketmaker

A basketmaker saw his craft going out of fashion, and he was losing money. He decided to put all his effort and energy into building the world’s biggest basket and making himself famous. He did this but made a terrible mistake. He built the basket from the inside, and when it was complete, he was trapped inside it.

He berated himself and raged and screamed but could not break out. A mentor came to his aid in the form of a talking frog. The basketmaker pleaded with him to throw him a rope or a ladder or call a helicopter—all of those logical thinking process solutions.

The frog talked with him regularly but could offer no practical help. The basketmaker expressed a lot of anger and frustration to no avail.

Eventually, with coaching from the frog, the basketmaker gave up trying to escape. He spent his time singing and dancing and got great pleasure from this. One day while he was singing and dancing, he found a gap had opened up in the basketweave, and without further thought, he squeezed through and danced his way out into the world. He never returned and never made another basket, spending the rest of his life travelling around singing and dancing for his living.

How I Found My Own Solution and Applied It

The story I had created without conscious thought gave me my solution. From that moment, I focused all my energies on the things that gave me pleasure rather than focusing on how trapped I felt in a job I had lost any love for.

Within weeks an opportunity opened up in creating my own music and performance business. I handed in my notice and moved into an uncertain world that served me well for many years. Working with the metaphors in the basketmaker story gave me the confidence to take that leap of faith.

How to use the creative approach
1. Identify the obstacle and find a metaphor for it. Is it a wall, a pit, barbed wire, a cage, a desert island? Be as creative as you can. Draw it, write about it or visualise it in a detailed way.
2. Live with it for a while. How does it feel being trapped or stuck in this way? Don’t force a solution; that would be your logical mind kicking in.
3. Imagine a wise person/creature joining you in this space and suggesting a strategy or be open to a solution appearing out of nowhere. The solution may not be logical or obvious. It could be magical or ridiculous.
4. Live with that for a while. Don’t feel you have to act immediately. You may find alternative solutions pop up in dreams, or you may suddenly have a eureka moment in the bath.
Be patient; ideas need fermentation time

Creating my basketmaker story and the changes I made probably covered a period of three or four years.

The apple falling on Newton’s head was a eureka moment. Lots of thinking preceded it.

Newton’s formulation of the concept of gravity took more than 20 years and included multiple components: preparation, incubation, inspiration — a version of the eureka experience — and production. The Atlantic

Anything that ferments takes time. Sourdough bread takes a week. Single Malt Whisky ten to fifteen years. The key thing in all these processes is that you will have to wait longer if you don’t start it now.

Before You Rush Off

Jot down four things on a post-it note and stick it on the fridge.
1. The obstacle
2. How you feel about it
3. The opportunity
4. ………………………. (Leave this one empty — let it ferment and wait for your eureka! moment)
I look forward to hearing if this is useful in the responses below.

Mind, Body, Soul, and Emotions: Finding Harmony in the Pieces of Yourself
March 23, 2021
There Is Nothing Wrong With Me

How I discovered the truth

First published on Medium John Walter 📣

Feb 14 · 5 min read

Image by 453169 from Pixabay

For the past two years, I have been in therapy. Alongside this, I have been learning how to operate a recording studio for recording, mixing, and mastering my music.

In the studio, I discovered the function of a tool called a “Limiter.”

In therapy, I discovered the limiting beliefs I have about myself.

A limiter is a tool that flattens stuff out. It limits the volume of loud sounds, and it increases the volume of quiet sounds. The reason for doing this is so that whenever a record comes on the radio, it will always be at the same basic volume or loudness. You wouldn’t want to reach for the volume control between songs or tweak it when you can’t hear those gentle sounds over the car engine. It standardises the level of sound.

In music, a pretty useful tool — In life, not so.

How I Have Been Limiting Myself

One line from Amanda Gorman’s inaugural poem sums it up.

“We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace.”

I am a calm and gentle man with a big smile. This is one massive cover-up job. I am that person, but I am much more than that. I have learnt to cover up and hide all manner of aspects of myself. The quiet demeanour covers up all manner of turmoil. I have not just been fooling others. I have been fooling myself.

It all stems from a core belief that there is something wrong with me. I cannot pin the creation of that belief on one incident or person. It built up over the years of my childhood, and I have identified some key moments.

The baby that cried the most — being put on powerful medication for anxiety at age 11 — Homophobic bullying — Young family friend being murdered — some messed up underage sexual experiences.

The story doesn’t matter. No one is to blame or at fault. What matters is that I slowly built up a core belief about myself.

Something is Wrong With Me. I Mustn’t Let Anybody Find Out.

A year ago, I started to uncover this around a simple memory regarding my sexuality. Read the full story below if you wish. Briefly, I was in a pub listening to a young male singer-songwriter with a bunch of male friends. I was on my third pint when his set ended.

I said, “Wow, he is gorgeous!”

I then stopped talking, withdrew from the conversation, left early, and vowed never to drink more than two pints ever again. Unpicking this later, I realised nobody had reacted to my comment. They probably didn’t notice. It was all in my own head.

“Oh my god! Now everyone will think I am gay! Am I gay?”

I had applied the limiter to my life. Digging deeper, I found an underlying belief that being attracted to anyone of either gender was bad and something to be ashamed of. An idea that having sexual needs of any kind was a sin or aberration, something I had to deny and cover-up at all costs.

I then began looking for other unconscious reactive processes I went through regularly, based on the belief that there was something wrong with me, and I needed to conceal that.

I found many. In my unconscious, I am afraid I am a sexual predator, so I must never express any sexual interest in anyone, even my wife! There is not a bone in my body that would force myself on another, but that fear is there as part of my belief that something is wrong with me.

I must never blow my own trumpet because this will make others feel inadequate around me. All my achievements are just a con — luck — a flook — not the result of any hard work or talent on my part.

You get the gist. I am fucked up so it’s best if I turn the volume down on everything and then I won’t get discovered as a fraud and a freak. Keep it bland; keep it beige; blend in.

There is Nothing Wrong With Me

There has never been.

The truth crept up on me over several years, and I finally started believing it—no blinding light revelation.

I have talked the talk for many years, but still, the unconscious processes were there. No amount of positive affirmations or mindfulness moments made any difference. Unconsciously I applied the limiter, and it happens in everything.

Playing the piano, I start going into the zone — oops make a joke of it and move on.

Writing, get fantastic feedback from my editor on my first novel — oh shit, stick it back in the drawer for another five years.

In my amazing Counselling group, I begin to access some emotion — Oh sorry guys, I am taking up too much time in the group.

The limiter is applied.

How it Feels When I Switch Off the Limiter

Now I notice when I am applying the limiter, and I can choose to use it or not.

I was in a practical observed session working as a counsellor. The idea of the limiter was fresh in my mind. I noticed it trying to kick in during the session, and I kept switching it off again, letting myself be there with the client, not allowing the mind to take over or hijack the session.

The feedback I got was overwhelming. These words sum it up:

“remarkable, a masterclass in just ‘being’.”

So now I know there is nothing wrong with me and there has never been. I can be authentic, and I can be real. Sometimes I may still mess up, but I can deal with that.

Making mistakes and then learning from them is so much better than holding back for fear of making mistakes. I have been talking that talk for many years. Now I can honestly say that I am walking the talk. It feels great.

March 9, 2021
What Surfing Taught Me About Grief and Guilt

Three strategies for dealing with waves of emotion

First published on Medium by Invisible Illness John Walter 📣Sep 20 · 7 min read

Photo by Daria Shevtsova from Pexels

For the last month or so, most mornings have begun with a cup of tea in bed while I log on to local webcams. There are four permanently monitoring the beaches near my apartment. If the surf looks good I slip into my wetsuit, jump on my bike and in ten minutes I am in the surf. If the surf is not looking good, I slump back into bed and slowly shake off waves of grief and depression that have become a regular part of my life.

As I fought the Atlantic breakers this morning, I considered the three ways I was dealing with the physical waves in the ocean and began relating them to dealing with the waves of emotion in my own life.

It starts with making the decision to engage.

How do you deal with your emotions? Do you engage with them? Are you afraid of them? Do you feel you have to conquer or manage them? Do you desensitise yourself and avoid them?

I recognised that often I am unaware of emotional waves approaching and I ignore them until they overwhelm me and I can do nothing but collapse in a heap with Netflix and chocolates.

I related this to my encounter with a wave in Hawaii. It was my first experience of a wave there. I froze. It was too big to go over, but I did not fancy being under that breaker when half a tonne of water pummeled itself down to the sand. In a millisecond of indecision, it hit me full-on, scrambled me up like morning eggs and deposited me back on the beach. I was convinced it had dislocated my shoulder, but only my dignity was damaged.

This is inaction. You feel that if you do nothing, the uncomfortable feelings will somehow stop of their own accord. They won’t. There are many different kinds of inaction. Many different ways we try to avoid feeling any problematic emotion.

Feelings that are not acknowledged have many ways of making their presence felt. Physical ailments can have their root cause in suppressed emotions, as Bessel A. van der Kolk describes in his book The Body Keeps The Score.

Traumatized people chronically feel unsafe inside their bodies: The past is alive in the form of gnawing interior discomfort. Their bodies are constantly bombarded by visceral warning signs, and, in an attempt to control these processes, they often become expert at ignoring their gut feelings and in numbing awareness of what is played out inside. They learn to hide from their selves.

If you related to this, waves of emotion come, you stand there, you let them hit you, and they knock you for six. You have developed your ways of dealing with this, but it is all torturous. Here are three more useful strategies to consider.

They are ways of accepting that these waves of powerful emotions will always be with you, but you can survive them and even begin to enjoy the ride.

Surf Strategy #1: Jump over the wave

You jump over the wave, which in itself is quite an art. I hold my bodyboard in front of me. I push off and then allow the surf to sweep my legs from under me like the tendrils of a jellyfish.

Your curiosity and willingness to explore within, puts you in front of the emotional waves. You have recognised that you have been avoiding dealing with personal issues that arise in your life. You have stepped into the ocean, ready to feel the emotions. You have acknowledged their existence.

As you walk deeper into the ocean, you encounter the waves that have already broken. You cannot ride these waves, but if you stand still and do nothing, you will be battered and knocked off your feet by them.

I experience great joy and freedom diving over waves. I push off with my feet, and my torso is above the turbulence of the white frothing water. As I dive into the stillness on the other side, my legs and feet feel the energy of the wave tugging and pushing, but they are loose and free.

I could not enjoy the pleasure of diving into the cool water on the other side, without having the courage to face the wave and dive over it.

I have many examples in my life of confronting demons, and finding the process has given me freedom and vitality.

I would be interested in your responses to this image. Have you faced up to something traumatic and painful that has been haunting you? Rather than avoiding it, have you thrown yourself into it and experienced that joy and freedom on the other side?

Surf Strategy #2: Duck under the wave

If a wave is too big to jump over, I duck down in the water and allow the surf to break over my head. This manoeuvre needs careful timing, or your head and body can feel like they could part company with each other.

In the surfing analogy, you duck under a wave when it has already broken, but it is too large to jump over. You preserve your safety by ducking under it. For a few seconds, you are aware of the turbulence above you, but you are safe in the darkness of the deep water.

On the emotional roller coaster of life, you may often want to duck for cover. Sometimes it is essential to preserve your safety. Some struggles and confrontations are just too big. Please don’t feel you have to stand there and let them crash into you. There is no shame in dropping out of the firing line. You preserve your mental health by stepping away for a moment.

Ducking away is a temporary avoidance, but you are acknowledging the issue. You know it is there, but you are choosing to deal with it at another time when maybe you have more energy and resilience.

Surf Strategy #3: Ride the wave

You ride the wave, which takes great skill. You need to read the currents and the flow of the water around you and make sure you are in the right place to catch a wave just as it breaks. You can improve your chances with a lot of observation and knowledge of the ocean and the layout of your beach.

You may be familiar with the “ride the wave” metaphor concerning emotional and mental health. You either ride the wave, or you are overwhelmed by it. Some writers present it as a binary distinction, and I don’t think this reflects the depth and complexity of human emotion.

In my surf this morning, I had to deal with over a hundred waves. I got a good ride on four. I had numerous aborted attempts, and for all of the rest, I had to use the other two strategies.

Jumping over and ducking under waves is all part of the surfing experience. If you do not master those two skills, then you will never ride a wave.

Riding the wave of your emotions is not possible every hour of every day. I am not going to give you handy tips or a prescribed method in a “one size fits all” format. It takes study and practice.

Study the waves of emotion throughout the day, Notice when you are reacting to circumstances, when you are not speaking your truth, filled with anxiety, crying uncontrollably or whatever your emotional manifestation may be.

Practice noticing the emotions, acknowledging them and then carrying on with the day.

With study and practice, you will learn to recognise the waves when they are building up. You will learn to recognise the instinctual fight, flight, or freeze reflex and make a considered decision on the path to take.

You have no hope of riding the wave if you do not study the patterns. Develop the self-knowledge that will help you see the wave beginning to break. You will then be giving yourself the opportunity to ride the wave. You will not always be successful, and you may have to abort at any time, but without the willingness to explore your inner life you will remain standing there being battered and bruised until the tide goes out and you drag yourself off the beach.

Your curiosity and engagement with your emotional life are what puts you in the right position to kick-off and ride down the glassy front of the wave and feel the power behind you driving you forward.

Your emotional struggles become the driver of your life rather than the obstacle you can never hope to surmount.

Finally, recognize when you’ve left the beach.

In terms of mental and emotional health, you need to accept that “riding the wave” is a metaphor for a state of wellness. You are functioning joyfully in life alongside the waves of difficult emotions. The two cannot be separated. If you feel you have eradicated the difficult emotions from your life, then you have probably left the beach.

We desensitise ourselves in many ways using alcohol, drugs, sex and other addictions. That is leaving the beach.

Some people retreat into an intellectual bubble to avoid the emotional world. That is leaving the beach.

There is a phenomenon called ‘spiritual bypass’.

a “tendency to use spiritual ideas and practices to sidestep or avoid facing unresolved emotional issues, psychological wounds, and unfinished developmental tasks” Fossella & Welwood 2011.

That is leaving the beach.

An Invitation

I invite you to join me on the beach, to overcome your fears and dive into the water. To run joyfully into the surf and experience fully the energy of being alive.

I would love to hear your responses to this imagery. I don’t feel I have any answers to the specific issues you are facing in your life, but I write about things that are meaningful to me in the hope that they light a spark in others. Your responses then spark new creations from me, and so we bring life into the community.

September 20, 2020
The Fear of Freedom
How to recognise it and choose to move on.

First published in Illumination on Medium John Walter 📣Jul 21 · 7 min read

Image by Jessica Araujo from Pixabay

Freedom is our greatest desire and our biggest fear. I now realise I have struggled with this paradox for most of my life. Now is the time to learn how to recognise it, how to identify it in whatever guise it presents itself. When we are aware of the fear stalking us, we can choose to take a different path.

“Modern man still is anxious and tempted to surrender his freedom to dictators of all kinds, or to lose it by transforming himself into a small cog in the machine, well fed, and well clothed, yet not a free man but an automaton.”
― Erich Fromm, Escape from Freedom

I was a struggling jazz musician. I sat at a beautiful Steinway Grand playing a duo concert with a brilliant saxophonist. Just the two of us playing my compositions and improvising together effortlessly as we had for the last few years. One thousand people seemed to be giving us rapt attention, and their warm applause qualified this.

All thoughts of what, or how to play disappeared, my mind became an observer as my body took over, driven by spirit and connection. The saxophonist seemed similarly possessed — his hands, mouth, breath and instrument, suggesting and responding in equal measure. I imagined a thousand threads connecting us both to the audience. I felt their energy prompting us, encouraging us in our flights of freedom.

Afterwards, I floated over to the green room, luxuriating in the joy of this peak experience. We shared the view that it had felt like the audience was playing us. Like it had been a mystical encounter.

My wife, with baby in arms, greeted us with herb teas and a little adoration. The saxophonist left us to find a more exciting after-party.

That was 35 years ago, and it was the last professional jazz gig I ever played.

What happened? Ten years of grafting and learning, paying my dues in function bands two nights a week, building up a reputation and playing the jazz clubs and night clubs in the Bristol area. Here was the absolute dream gig executed beautifully to excellent reviews. What went wrong?

Recognising turning points. Did you choose freedom or safety?

Looking at it now, I see that I was afraid of the freedom of being a jazz musician. Sure it is a tough life, but it can be sustainable. My saxophonist friend went on to become a well respected international player and still tours and teaches on a global circuit.

It was fear. I transformed myself into a small cog in the machine because it felt safer. I became a teacher with a steady income and regular hours. I milked goats and flew kites with my daughter.

I don’t regret that decision. But I am now curious as to the unconscious drivers behind it.

I have had a wonderful life. Often I have felt I am living the life I love. I have run my own business and sustained a beautiful marriage throughout. I have only had short periods of feeling like a cog in a machine.

Image by Author

But the decision to walk away from jazz haunts me. I am curious. I still play at a local level, and every performance is a delight. There is no diminishment in my love of the art form. I compose many tunes, but there is little outlet for the doodlings of a local piano player.

Jazz has always been associated with freedom and spontaneity.

As Herbie Hancock says:

One of the most important functions of jazz has been to encourage a hope for freedom, for people living in situations of intolerance or struggle.

So I chose to play one of the most challenging instruments, in a genre that is all about expressing freedom from limitation. I became extremely good at it, and then I gave it up!

I yearned freedom. I studied freedom, but ultimately I was afraid of freedom.

What was the root of that fear?

I remember an earlier gig in my mid-twenties, where a beautiful young woman approached me in the bar afterwards. She asked to hold my hands. She stroked them. She told me how my music had transported her into a beautiful imaginary world, and she wanted to feel the hands that could do that.

I could not take it in. I was acutely embarrassed. I tried to make light of it. I wondered what drugs she had been taking. I thought she was hitting on me, wanting something from me other than my presence at that moment. I could not accept that I had created something beautiful for another person and they valued and appreciated that. She was acknowledging me for sharing myself.

“Art should teach spirituality by showing a person a portion of himself that he would not discover otherwise.” (Bill Evans)

I wonder if that was the root of my fear. My art had given me a glimpse of myself that was too bright and too beautiful for me to bear. I had become used to a life where my creativity was a very personal thing shared with a small group of friends that I trusted.

Maybe the young woman holding my hands had seen a glimpse of my soul. Experienced something about me of which I was completely unaware. Thirty-five years ago, I was not ready to take that in. I found all manner of ways of justifying a decision to step back into the shadows.

As Marianne Williamson says in her much-quoted text:

It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
talented and fabulous?

I justified leaving it all behind as a sensible decision. Making my wife and baby my priority. Being a provider for my family

“transforming himself into a small cog in the machine, well fed, and well clothed, yet not a free man”

Making a choice to step past that fear.

It is never too late. Scanning my life now for those turning points, I have identified many.

On some occasions, I have embraced the fear and taken a plunge into the risky arena of freedom. Inevitably another opportunity has soon arisen where I have taken the safer option, stepped back behind the curtain and settled for a herb tea rather than a line of coke.

It is not that I regret any of those decisions. My life has woven a beautiful web glistening with many jewels and witnessing much sadness and pain.

It is now that I choose freedom. I can identify the patterns, and I can anticipate the turning point. When I make a decision, I can notice whether it comes from a place of freedom or is more about me bolting for safety.

The questions to ask yourself.
1. Is this, or could this be a turning point in my life?
2. Am I drifting into safety when I could choose freedom?
3. Could I reinterpret my anxiety about a particular choice, as excitement?
4. Could the comfortable, natural choice just be a way of avoiding the anxiety/excitement?
How to make the choice.

I am not suggesting you should always choose the risky route. The road that fills you with anxiety could easily be a dead-end, or it could take you off the edge of the cliff. What I am saying is make an informed decision.

Notice how your physical body is responding to the choices. Find a way, through mindfulness or meditation, to listen to the yearning of your soul. Notice if your conscious mind is constantly repeating itself.

My conscious mind had a regular chorus to keep me in my safe place.

“Who do you think you are?”

“You are too big for your boots — too clever for your own good.”

“You will never make anything of yourself.”

“Your head is in the clouds.”

“You are wasting your life away.”

(If you have any others of your own I would love to hear them.)

I don’t blame the adults in my life for feeding me these snippets of constriction. I take full responsibility for allowing my mind to take them in and then for using them to make a cosy, safe nest of resistance around myself.

They are not the truth. The chatter of the mind rarely is. These are little life rafts I created for myself in my youth. I was drowning in my emotions, and I clung to anything that came along.

Image by Luiz Antonio Toni from Pixabay

Don’t be like me and mistake these liferafts for firm ground. As a child, you needed them to survive the flood of emotions and deliver you to the mainland of adulthood. Most of us forget to leave them at the shore. We drag them around with us for years convinced they are part of us, an aspect of our identity.

Now move on.

Once you have made a choice, you still have the opportunity to reflect on that and make other choices.

Was it a compelling choice? Are you feeling excited now you have made that choice?

A straightforward test question to ask yourself is:

“Am I moving on?”

Suppose you are continually going over the reasons for your decision. You are mulling over the choice you made and justifying it all to yourself and others. Then the answer is no. You have just added another brick to the walls of your prison.

You will know when you have conquered the fear of freedom. You will not be locked in the past. You will be moving on freely into the world, following your heart and feeling excited for the present and the future.
1. Recognise the opportunity for freedom.
2. Make a compelling choice.
3. Move on
ILLUMINATION
July 21, 2020