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  • Harmonising Ancient Mysteries and Cutting-Edge Science:

    Paving the Way for a Sustainable Global Future

    The author created the image using digital and AI tools.

    We live in unprecedented times. We exist in a dimension with unlimited access to ancient mysteries and wisdom alongside the emergence of extraordinary scientific tools. Studying both can give us a universal overview from which there is the possibility of creating a sustainable future for humanity and our planet.

    The 21st Century is a unique turning point in history in terms of technological advancement, communication and interaction on a global scale, environmental awareness and social and political change.

    The 20th Century saw remarkable changes, which set the scene for the next 100 years as being the time humanity either harnesses its extraordinary power or is destroyed by it in the longer term.

    How can we open our minds to embrace these massive global and universal perspectives without seeing it as a conflict between opposing forces?

    Two coexisting Realms

    I work in the Creative arts and the world of Psychotherapy. Ancient wisdom and scientific discovery exist as references in all of my work, regardless of its nature.

    The title image represents this in several ways. Creativity is the process of absorbing ancient wisdom and building on that to produce an original expression of your own emotional and spiritual world.

    The woman meditates in an ancient temple, and superimposed on the image is a technical, scientific illustration of energy within the body and how it affects the immediate environment.

    I created the image by interacting with AI Art Generators. These tools use technology to combine wisdom from the past with cutting-edge tools of the present.

    The AI Art controversy

    Just as historical Luddites opposed the Industrial Revolution, the Musicians Union sought to ban synthesisers, educationalists resisted online learning, and healthcare professionals expressed reluctance towards adopting AI-assisted diagnostic tools. Similarly, some artists voice concerns about AI-generated art. These instances highlight an enduring pattern — a natural resistance to change that persists as part of the human condition.

    The controversy around AI art arises from the fact that it began by analysing a massive dataset of images. Art, photography and everything in between that has been uploaded to the internet. Now I can enter some text and it creates an image to reflect that text.

    an image of peace and harmony in colour light and texture

    Image created by the author in Midjourney — Prompt: an image of peace and harmony in colour, light and texture

    Some artists and photographers see it as theft of their work. Illustrators and graphic artists see their skilled jobs disappearing overnight.

    I asked Chat GPT to expand on the connection between ancient wisdom and cutting-edge science in AI Art:

    AI art generators represent a unique intersection of ancient wisdom, scientific progress, and technological advances. These tools leverage cutting-edge technologies, particularly artificial intelligence and machine learning, to analyze and understand patterns, styles, and themes from various sources, including ancient art and contemporary works. The combination of these technological capabilities allows AI to generate original artworks that may reflect a fusion of historical influences and modern aesthetics.

    In the context of combining ancient wisdom, AI art generators can be programmed to learn from and emulate artistic styles from different time periods, incorporating elements of cultural and historical significance. This fusion of ancient wisdom with modern technology enables the creation of art that bridges the gap between tradition and innovation.

    Moreover, AI art generators can offer a fresh perspective on creativity by introducing new possibilities and combinations that might not be immediately apparent to human artists. The process involves the machine learning algorithm identifying and adapting artistic features, leading to the production of novel and sometimes unexpected artistic expressions.

    In summary, AI art generators represent a fascinating synergy between ancient wisdom, scientific understanding, and technological progress, offering a glimpse into the potential for collaborative creation between human and machine intelligence.¹

    Where scientific language will never be sufficient.

    I would defy any scientist to pin down or quantify the qualities that define the difference between a world-class Jazz musician and a professional musician who plays jazz. They get more work, but that’s not what I mean. I find more clarity when exploring ancient wisdom related to this.

    Recently, I was at a local Jazz quartet gig. I went there because a couple of the musicians were known to me for a long time, and I respected their abilities. I expected a great night but had a fantastic, almost transcendental experience.

    What stood out for me was that throughout the evening, the bass player and the drummer were completely connected with each other musically and energetically. The other two musicians were well-supported by them and played at a technically similar level, but I didn’t feel their connectedness in the visceral way I did with the bass and drums.

    At first, I thought it was just me because I am a musician and can sense these things. However, this was the first thing my wife mentioned as we departed. Later, I checked in with three other friends who had been there, and this feeling of connectedness between the two was the first thing that was mentioned.

    It was not measurable in scientific or musical terms, but members of the audience became aware of it through their experience in the moment with the musicians. In scientific terms, my observations were not evidence-based. Does that make them invalid?

    The Eastern philosophies of mindfulness and the interconnectedness of everything are at work here. We witnessed musicians being connected and present in the moment, being creative and spontaneous in responding to that moment. Unmeasurable and impossible to describe in anything other than subjective, ineffable terms.

    I am a writer, artist, musician and psychotherapist. When I can be present in the moment and create a connection with my audience/client, that is when the magic happens. When I am in the flow, following my instincts and intuition and allowing myself to experience freedom and spontaneity, I do my best work.

    This quality of connection is what really makes a difference, not my adherence to theoretical evidence-based models in whatever world I am functioning in.

    The Marvels of Modern Science

    If the 20th Century saw the rise of the machine, the 21st Century is already seeing the rise of Artificial Intelligence as a significant bringer of change. As a writer, 15 years ago, I had to pay an editor to check my work before publishing. Now, my entire writing process has changed.

    As I type, I have an AI spelling and grammar check going on in the background.

    A pic of the text before I changed it

    That red line under the text informed me a comma might be appropriate. Any misspelt words are corrected in the same way.

    another mistake pic

    If I phrase a sentence clumsily, then AI makes suggestions as to how I might improve the readability of the sentence in question.

    a clumsy sentence pic

    AI assisted in every step of writing this article. I roughed out a headline and ran it through a headline analyser to see if I could improve it to attract more attention. I wrote the first two paragraphs and was quite excited at getting stuck into writing the whole thing, but a brick wall to my progress immediately came up.

    I could be better when it comes to structuring articles. I like to write in a stream of consciousness, which can become very messy towards the end of the process. Some articles are so chaotic they never make it to publishing.

    AI-generated image created by the author with the prompt: a writer facing a brick wall separating him in the present from his finished masterpiece in the future

    Now, when I find myself facing that brick wall, I copy and paste what I have written into ChatGpt and ask it to map out a possible structure for my article based on those words and some specifics about my writing style.

    I rarely stick rigidly to the suggested structure, but it gets me started. If I were better educated as a writer, I would have these possible structures imprinted on my neural pathways. But I’m not, and I haven’t.

    There is one further step. When I finish writing this article, I may run parts of it through ChatGpt again and ask for feedback. I choose to follow suggestions or not.

    Note: I have just asked for that feedback, created a second draft based on it and you are now reading the third draft. All the constructive feedback was about improving the structure of the piece.

    Scientific progress in the form of AI is enabling me to enjoy and earn some money from being a writer. Several hundred people read my work every day; my ideas and creative process ultimately keep people reading. Without AI I may well have given up long ago. It eases the process, speeds things up, and allows me to tap into thousands of years of progress and development in literature without having to attend an expensive university course for four years.

    Image created by the author using AI tools

    Where Ancient Wisdom and Science meet.

    I first worked as a therapeutic counsellor in 1985. My training lapsed, and I retrained again in 2020

    In my first job in a Psychoanalytic environment, I was aware of the tension between us and those working in the behavioural sciences. I worked with severely disturbed boys and was able to observe the differences between our way of working and a nearby establishment working with a similar cohort in a completely different way.

    Both claimed to be working in line with scientific research. Our boys lived in a nurturing environment where everything was designed to meet their individual needs and allow them to follow their interests and develop insight into their difficulties. The other boys were locked up under a reward and punishment system and trained to manage their problematic behaviours.

    Both claimed success and cited evidence. Alongside this, I was following my interests in Humanistic Psychotherapy, which worked for me.

    In the intervening years, I have explored mindfulness, meditation, and a whole raft of experiential approaches to psychology emerging more from mystical than scientific sources. Many, like Psychosynthesis, Gestalt and Person-centred therapy, are now firmly embedded in Integrative and holistic approaches to psychotherapy.

    In some ways, the many branches of psychology have come together, but there is still evidence of conflict. This is most clearly seen in how the NHS uses the phrase “Evidence-based” to justify using cheaper quick-fix therapies rather than deeper-reaching long-term therapies.

    “Evidence-based” has become the scientific world’s clarion call to draw everyone to their way of thinking. This seems to forget that the scientific method has only been around for 300 – 400 years, whilst mindfulness and meditation practices have been passed on globally for between 2500 and 3000 years. Is that not evidence enough of their efficacy? Does collecting ticks on a reductionist questionnaire trump those thousands of years of lived experience?

    The world of psychotherapy is actively involved in finding a point of balance where both scientific and ancient wisdom approaches can coexist.

    Relating to Climate change.

    The climate change debate is where ancient wisdom and science finally come together. Science and industry have ploughed forward, ignoring ancient knowledge about the environment and the connectedness of all things. Now the tide has turned, and the majority of the science establishment has done their tests, thrown up their hands and said
    “Oh **** They were right all along.”

    The problem now is changing the whole paradigm within which we all live. It was 150 years ago that Darwin coined the phrase “survival of the fittest,” most of humanity took it to mean that they had to fight for their individual survival and could justify any means towards that end. This is a complete misunderstanding of Darwin’s meaning of the phrase. The concept of natural selection is about reproductive effectiveness, not about the survival of the individual. It is about the survival of the family, community or species.

    We are faced with a dilemma where we have to sacrifice our personal comfort or habits for humanity itself to survive. Technology has driven us to this precipice, and ironically, technology is the only thing powerful enough to apply the brakes and reverse us back to a sustainable future. The voices of ancient wisdom can guide us to this place of balance where the future of humanity is in tune with the future of the planet and everything that shares it with us.

    Harmonising Knowledge and Wisdom

    In music, this is all about finding a point of connection for disparate musical elements. This is something you can feel as a musician. You feel the connection, tension, harmony, and separation in every moment, and then you feel the moving on to a different emotional space. This is carried along by the knowledge of the music and your instrument, its strengths and its limitations.

    In my counselling room, the same thing occurs. There is a therapeutic relationship where the same process of feeling my way, being spontaneous, and being able to hold tension and anxiety is happening. I am effective as a counsellor because I am non-judgemental and present in the moment with the client, but also because I have had 40 years of questioning and exploring my own inner world in the context of modern psychological theories.

    In jazz I have 50 years of experience feeling and sensing those harmonies and rhythmic journeys and it all rides on the back of the musicians that have gone before me, studied and lived in the music and passed that on through their playing.

    My hope for humanity is that there are enough people connected emotionally to the heartbeat of the planet who can become guides for those amazing scientists and technologists who forge pathways of understanding across the globe and generations. Can you find this balance within yourself? Do you have the strength to show up and witness this balance for others?

    Our only hope for a sustainable global future is in achieving this balance. Hearing the voices of our ancestors strengthens our connection with ourselves, each other and all living things. Using advanced AI tools to harness that wisdom and combine it with science to find a way forward for humanity that harmonises us with the physical and natural world. We must change the paradigm of life from “survival of the fittest” to something more appropriate, like “sustainability through connection.”

    If you can think of a better phrase for a new paradigm, pop it in the comments below.

    I finish with the words of the great jazz pianist, Herbie Hancock.

    We all have natural human tendency to take the safe route — to do the thing we know will work — rather than taking a chance. But that’s the antithesis of jazz, which is all about being in the present. Jazz is about being in the moment, at every moment. It’s about trusting yourself to respond on the fly. If you can allow yourself to do that, you never stop exploring, you never stop learning, in music or in life.²

    Thanks for reading to the end. Have you an example of a situation where you experience that balance between theory and intuition or Knowledge and wisdom? Use the comments box to ask any questions or share observations. Often, responses can inspire a whole new article.

    Please show your appreciation by clapping, responding, following and subscribing. Thanks.

    References:
    1.     OpenAI. (2024). ChatGPT [Large language model]. https://chat.openai.com

    2. Possibilities (2014) by Hancock, with Lisa Dickey, p. 2

    This story was first published on Generative AI. Connect with us on LinkedIn and follow Zeniteq to stay in the loop with the latest AI stories. Let’s shape the future of AI together!

  • Unlocking the Healing Power of Embracing Human Complexity: A Therapeutic Journey to Growth and Wellness

    Subtle Shifts Toward Inner Harmony and Resilience

    If you subscribe to Medium please read it there John Walter 📣 Published in Age of Empathy

    Image created digitally by the author.

    The medical establishment tries to reduce us to simple diagnosable packages. This may work to a degree when applied to medical issues, but it is an absolute disaster when applied to mental health issues.

    You are given a mental health diagnosis, and along with it comes a whole load of baggage. You are no longer seen as a unique individual. You have become part of a group, and that whole group of millions of people has a whole raft of prejudices and expectations associated with it. There is a catalogue of therapeutic and medication approaches that are seen as possibly making a bit of a difference.

    You become a guinea pig to the medical side of the mental health care establishment.

    “I tried this once, and it worked a bit. Let’s see if it works for you.”
    You are no longer being treated as a unique individual. You are part of an ongoing research project. A therapy is tried with not much hope of success, and if it fails, you are moved on to another one.

    The last century has seen many advances in mental health treatments and therapies, but at the same time, thousands have received misguided treatments that have caused major harm.

    Forced lobotomies have caused serious brain damage. ECT without consent has caused memory loss and cognitive impairment. Conversion therapy for sexuality or gender identity issues has caused significant harm including psychological distress and trauma. (The UK government are still refusing to ban this practice despite all the evidence of significant harm). There has been institutional misuse of psychiatric medications, forced sterilization, human rights violations, stigmatization and discrimination.

    All of these things have been allowed to happen because there is a diagnosis. Without a diagnosis, you could not justify cutting a bit of someone’s brain out or electrocuting someone to within an inch of their life. All of these invasive approaches to mental health treatment would be seen as criminal acts against the person. The diagnosis turns something akin to criminal assault into a legal or justifiable act.

    I haven’t even touched on the government-sanctioned abuse towards autistic people, and I’ll leave you to do your own research in that area.

    Embracing Human Complexity

    I work as a Psychotherapeutic Counsellor in the UK, where no regulation exists around these terms. I am qualified as an Integrative Counsellor but have a background in Psychodynamic therapy and working around attachment issues. I am so much more than any of these official descriptors.

    I have been on a therapeutic journey for close to 40 years. Sometimes, this has been primarily cognitive, other times largely somatic (of the body). Often, it has been focused on emotional or spiritual work with a creative focus.

    If someone had convinced me at any stage of my journey that I could get all I needed from a singular approach, then I would not be in the position I am in today.

    There are dangers inherent in all of the singular approaches. If you major in cognitive or behavioural approaches, you can neglect your somatic, spiritual or emotional self. This creates an imbalance in itself, which can destabilise your sense of well-being.

    Those who focus on their spiritual life can create a spiritual bypass where they avoid facing emotional issues, psychological wounds or other essential parts of their self-development.

    The holistic approach to therapy recognises this need for balance and a consideration of the unique complexity of every individual human being. Only by considering the whole person can any sense be made of the beautiful interactions between all the many parts of yourself.

    My Journey

    Image created digitally by the author.

    My life since my mid-20s has been a 40-year-long therapeutic journey. It has been a meandering path and I am realising now that there is no direct route. I have often sought or been drawn in by someone offering some magic formula to enlightenment, only to realise that seeking a preconceived goal means I have taken my attention away from all the gloriousness of the journey.

    Self-help books offer instant transformation, you can sign up for cult-like training courses, gurus offer life-changing results, and practitioners offer to solve all your problems in 6 sessions, but the reality is that lasting change requires patience, self-reflection and a willingness to embrace life itself in all its random and unpredictable glory.

    In my personal therapy now I can be taken back to moments of change and discovery at any point along the 40-year timeline.

    Ancestral Trauma

    Considering the impact of ancestral trauma recently, I was transported back to a sweat lodge in the 80s on a Welsh hillside. I could feel the heat and the tingling sensations in my body, the difficulty catching my breath and the smells of hot stones, sage and cedar smoke. Part of the sweat lodge ceremony is to call on your ancestors to accompany you and give guidance, in a way connecting you with the spiritual realm.

    The lodge itself, a small dome of animal skins with a pile of hot stones in the centre, symbolises the womb of Mother Earth. Leaving the lodge can be seen as a rebirth, healing the trauma we all experience when we are born, of leaving the safe protective, nurturing containment of the womb and having to undergo the metamorphosis from foetus to newborn child.

    At the time of being involved in this shamanic ritual, I did not have any real understanding of the effect it was having on my personal growth process. It was powerful, and I felt a connection to the other participants and the land where it took place. I was however unaware that the seeds of transformation had been planted and would remain in my unconscious, influencing my thoughts and behaviours for years to come.

    Forty years later I am considering on a cognitive level how my relationship with my father was affected by the fact he was sent to fight in WW2 at the age of 18. How his father led men on horseback involved in the fall of Jerusalem in 1917. I relive the sensations of that sweatlodge, a powerful memory held in my body and it feels like a cycle has been completed and I can move on. It feels as if I have been carrying anger and pain for my father and his father before him and I no longer have to do that.

    Powerful metaphors

    Image created digitally by the author

    At the end of my work at a psychodynamic therapeutic community around 1990 I was asked to write a reflection on my time there. The expectation was some short, maybe rational, academic essay on my own process in relation to the work of the community.

    I wrote a short children’s story about a beast living trapped in a stone hut. The beast was befriended by a small child, who fed him and eventually helped him escape by enlarging the doorway.

    Being part of the psychoanalytic community, interpretations about id and ego and god knows what were flying around everywhere. I wasn’t too interested in these. For me, the important part was the creative process. I focused my thoughts on my time in the community, and a metaphor emerged. I remember that metaphor now, over 30 years later.

    Metaphors are useful because you remember the powerful imagery. Interpretations and meanings change over time. Extra layers can be noticed many years later.

    The use of metaphor is all about embracing human complexity. I could not begin to write about my time in the community in literal, concrete terms within a psychoanalytic framework. The language was simply not there to express my experience clearly. The language itself creates a narrow view of human experience.

    Human Complexity

    How would you draw yourself as a human being reflecting all parts of yourself? Would you be perfectly balanced or would your brain be larger than your body reflecting overthinking? Would your heart be so big you could hardly move or perhaps your body has taken control away from your heart and mind? Maybe spiritual parts have taken hold and you are forgetting to eat and keep yourself healthy.

    How has your image of yourself changed over time? Have you become more reflective, or more self-obsessed? Have you been journeying in a straight line or going around in circles or stuck in a rut? Notice how your social or cultural condition affects your relationship to that phrase. Is being still and calm necessarily a bad thing? Is travelling forward in a straight line necessarily a good thing?

    Do you judge yourself as you create these complex images or can you accept yourself exactly as you are? Are you like the monster in the drawing above who has grown so big they can no longer escape from the shelter which was once their protection but has become their prison?

    Accepting all parts of yourself is a way to develop harmony and resilience. Self-awareness is just that, an awareness of self. Personal growth is just that, growth around all parts of yourself, not the growth of one part of you to the exclusion of all others.

    And Finally:

    Healing comes from accepting all parts of yourself, and your history and developing self-awareness without judgment. Resilience is knowing there is nothing wrong. You are who you are today as a result of multiple influences from your ancestors, immediate family, society and culture.

    Trying to work out what is wrong with you so that you can fix it is a massive distraction. Life is complex and you are here to live it.

    John Walter Counsellor

  • Stop Asking “Why” Someone Behaves in the Way They Do

    I asked Bing AI to help me explore this dilemma.

    Image created by the author in Midjourney

    Your small child throws all of their toys out of their pram. You may be tempted to ask as the one who has to pick them up.
    “Why did you do that?”

    Your school-age child hides in a cupboard for three hours and reappears just as you are going to ring the police.
    “Why did you do that? Didn’t you realise how worried we would be?”

    Your teenager doesn’t eat anything for three days?
    “Why are you doing this? What do you hope to achieve?”

    Your Spouse walks off one morning, switches off their phone and doesn’t return for 24 hours.
    “Why?”

    What AI has to say

    A question asked of Bing AI

    NB. No other part of this article is generated by AI unless specifically stated

    The question “why?” is loaded.

    The question in itself brings a whole load of baggage with it. The person to whom the question is directed can feel it as a poison arrow. Let’s look at some of the possible imagined subtexts.

    1. criticism
    2. judgement
    3. intimidation
    4. social inadequacy
    5. inappropriate expression of feelings
    6. — — — — add your own in the comments below

    Why do you ask why?

    In my examples above, I was mainly looking at unconsciously driven acts that dissipate emotions. They are emotional outbursts. Feelings have built up over time; they have not been expressed and inevitably burst out.

    Asking ‘why?’ is problematic because it sits at the overlap of three inconvenient truths. Firstly, we are blind to our motivations. Secondly, our conscious mind creates plausible reasons for our often-unconscious choices. Thirdly, when we provide those reasons, we are deeply influenced by social conventions and use our answers to get along in the world. By Andrew Grenville, Chief Research Officer | April 23, 2019

    The effect of asking why

    This is the most crucial point to get. Someone is acting from an emotionally or unconsciously driven motivation, and the question “why” pierces that space and immediately forces them to access their thinking mind to give an explanation.

    As a counsellor, most clients I meet are plagued by their rational minds being too active. Being too emotional is not a thing in the counselling room. Accessing emotions and being able to express them in some way is a vital part of the therapeutic process.

    In modern Humanistic or Integrative practice, the rationalising mind often gets in the way of accessing emotions and exploring a pathway to the root cause of upset or discomfort.

    Some critics of behavioural approaches to therapy, such as CBT and DBT, which focus on working with the rationalising mind, argue:

    CBT is too focused on the thinking or rationalising mind, and that it neglects other aspects of human experience, such as emotions, intuition, creativity, spirituality, and social relationships. Some people may find CBT too rigid, superficial, or mechanistic, and may prefer other forms of therapy that explore deeper issues or offer more flexibility and spontaneity.

    [The above is another AI response which makes reference to these 4 websites 1. psychologytoday.com 2. mind.org.uk 3. nhs.uk 4. medicalnewstoday.com]

    In my counselling room if I were to ask a client at any point
    “Why did you do that?”
    I would break the spell of the session. The part of them that was comfortable talking about emotions would immediately disappear back inside, leaving their rationalising mind in control.

    This is most people’s default.

    The “why?” question is like pressing the reset button. The default programme regains control. They may be coming to counselling because they are repeating patterns learnt in childhood, and these are no longer working. Asking “Why?” can trigger these habitual responses.

    The Shopping trolley incident.

    A young client gave me permission to share this anecdote about something that happened to him. Let’s call him Nathan.

    He began by telling me he had been in detention and was put in a second detention because he couldn’t control his laugh when a peer let off an amazingly musical fart.
    “It started low and went high!”
    He explained with sound effects and hand gestures.

    He then described how he got the first detention.
    “I don’t know how it happened, really. It just happened.”

    Nathan and his friends went into the playground at break and discovered an abandoned shopping trolley. This caused some excitement, and they started pushing it towards the school building. Once inside, they entered the corridor, a gentle slope all the way through the school.

    Nathan then found himself sitting in the trolley, and his peers were launching him down the corridor. Quickly, it picked up speed. Coming towards the double doors, he was terrified of the impact as he was going at such speed. He passed a staircase just before the doors and grabbed onto the handrail, lifting himself out of the trolley seconds before it smashed into the locked entrance doors.

    “A teacher asked me why I did it, and I had no idea. I felt I had to make something up, so I said I had accidentally fallen into the trolley as it passed.”

    “He knew I was making it up. I knew I was making it up, but what else could I say?”

    Any of those boys involved in the shopping trolley incident could make up something when asked, “Why?”. They could blame someone and say they were trying to stop the others.

    One might try: “We were taking it to reception for safety, and the other boys got hold of it.”

    Now they have blamed others on top of lying, all because the young people feel threatened. There is a threat of judgment and punishment, all contained in the question “Why?”

    By asking “why”, you have permanently moved yourself away from understanding what has occurred.

    Because of the strong therapeutic relationship between Nathan and myself, he knew I was not interested in “why” he had done it.

    He didn’t need my prompting to explore his feelings around the incident. He didn’t attempt to justify his actions or blame others. He doesn’t regret his actions but recognises it was foolhardy.

    His main concern was that he felt a little out of control and almost like he was observing himself getting whipped up in the excitement.
    “it just happened.”

    Together, we both gained some understanding of what had occurred. From my experience, I am confident that in a future session, he will be relating something, and I will be able to say

    “Does this feel similar to the Shopping Trolley incident?”

    By not asking “why?” we may gain some understanding of the root causes or motivations behind some of his behaviours

    Can you stop asking yourself the “Why?” question?

    My most potent example of the uselessness of this form of personal enquiry centres around my daughter taking her own life. I will never know why, and my only way of continuing with a life of my own is to accept that I will never know why.

    Like some before me, I could make it a life’s mission to find out why. But I know that will simply tear me apart mentally and emotionally. I could blame myself, her workplace culture, her boss, her husband, the NHS, the makers and distributors of pharmaceuticals, society, the academic education system… Once I started writing that list, I realised I had to interrupt it before the end because otherwise, the end would never come.

    Why did I train to be a teacher? Why did I leave teaching? Why did I drink too much? Why did I stop? The questions are endless.

    These things and questions like them used to occupy my thoughts constantly. When I first entered therapy, I thought the purpose of it was to answer some of these questions.

    I realise now that the purpose of therapy has been to get me to a point where I no longer need to ask these “why?” questions. I accept that these things happened. That is enough for me now. I don’t need to make up a big story about why it happened to appease myself or others, to apportion blame or point fingers.

    I can still explore those events in my life, but I am not asking why. Instead, I might be asking:
    “What did it feel like when I finally left teaching or heard of my daughter’s death? How long did I have that feeling? If I experience that feeling again, might I be able to react more quickly or differently?”

    Exploring the answers to all those questions has contributed to my training as a Counsellor. I now have very clear access to my intuition. I can follow that intuition from moment to moment without the interference of my rational mental process. (often, sometimes, most of the time.)

    Explore asking what or how questions.

    Whether you are having a conversation with yourself, your child, spouse, parent or anyone else, you can explore watching out for those “why?” questions:

    1. Why did you throw your toys out of the pram? What would you like me to do? Leave them there? Pick them up for you? Give you a hug? How are you feeling right now?
    2. Why did I just say that? How can I apologise for any upset caused? What was I feeling to have said that? How can I express my feelings more appropriately?
    3. Why am I still in this job that I hate? How can I find a job I would enjoy more? What is the fear that is keeping me here? How can I accept that this job is a means to an end and not my whole life?

    To stop asking “Why?” questions, there must be some acceptance that random shit happens. You could spend vast amounts of energy asking, “Why?” or you could spend that energy more productively asking:

    “How can I adapt to this situation? What do I need to nurture myself in these circumstances? How can I rebuild my life from this point?”

    Thanks for reading to the end. I appreciate claps and will always respond to comments. You can follow me for future articles or to read previous ones.

    First Published in Age of Empathy a Medium publication.

  • Why Online Counselling or Therapy Might be the Right Thing for You

    You can choose video, phone, email or text chat from the comfort of your own home.

    First published in Invisible Illness on Medium by John Walter 📣

    Image created by the author with some help from AI Midjourney.

    Not everyone can get things together to make it to a therapy room once a week for face-to-face sessions. The Covid Lockdowns forced the counselling establishment to examine how they viewed, championed and supported online counselling.

    The reasons why online therapy may suit you.

    1. geographical: there are no therapists within reasonable travelling time.
    2. physical disabilities or illness: travelling and accessing a physical public space is too much.
    3. mental health issues: whether agoraphobia, generalised anxiety or other fears and phobias, staying home and making online contact seems much more doable.
    4. specific therapists or therapies: not all counsellors will be a good fit for you. You can give yourself a wider choice online.
    5. travelling: you travel for work and need to access therapy from any location you find yourself in.
    6. relationship issues: there are many reasons why you may wish to keep therapy meetings secret from your partner.
    7. under 35’s: chat, voice and video calls are a medium you are comfortable with.
    8. anonymity: you feel more comfortable speaking with someone you will never meet in real life.

    If you have more to add, please drop them in the responses below.

    My journey and experiences through training and into private practice.

    My Private Practice is a 50/50 mix of online and face-to-face counselling. I am pleased to keep it that way and can see that a change in circumstances could quickly push me towards 100% online work, and I would be okay with that.

    In March 2020, I was due to begin my counselling placements when the first lockdown was announced. The two agencies I signed up with closed because they could not face the complexities of switching to online counselling.

    This circumstance thrust me into online work, and I found that it suited me well. I also recognised that most of my online clients would be unable to access therapy if face-to-face was the only option.

    Building Connections in a Disconnected World:

    Text chat and email.

    I have had clients, who find it impossible to talk at home. Using a text chat system can be their only way to access therapy. Not many therapists offer this, and they need someone experienced in these methods to be effective.

    The session has the same boundaries as a regular therapy hour. The advantage is you could access a session while riding on the bus, in a cafe, in your car or quietly at home.

    Misunderstandings often occur when using text, don’t be afraid to ask for clarification and give clarification when asked.

    Pros: This method is a good way of focusing on a single specific issue in each chat. Very easy to have sessions that no one else knows about.

    Cons: It is tricky to access the deeper emotional issues which might be driving your behaviours.

    Phone.

    I have done some extensive long-term therapeutic work exclusively over the phone. Some clients cannot physically get to sessions, and others prefer not to be seen.

    Everything I have done in face-to-face sessions has been equally doable in phone sessions. Not all therapists are comfortable with phone therapy, so if you prefer this approach seek out someone with experience.

    Seek out a regular space to use for these calls where there is no chance of you being overheard by anyone. It helps to have the same environment each time, even if it is in your car parked in a layby.

    Pros: Everything possible in face-to-face therapy is also possible on the phone. Convenient and simple to set up.

    Cons: Because it is so simple to set up, you may find yourself not giving time on either side of the hour for preparation and reflection.

    Clients find it very simple to access my video service through TherapyLock. Unlike Zoom or Teams, no setting up or installation is required at the client end. Ease of connection is a significant factor when choosing an online therapist.

    Clients who find me online and contact me from all over the world have often chosen my service for particular reasons. They may have had difficulty finding a local therapist who works in a way they are comfortable with. I have found that clients who have put the work in to find a therapist who meets their particular needs have a more significant commitment to and understanding of the therapeutic process.

    Pros: If you have a clear idea of your therapeutic needs, then you can easily find a therapist who can cater to them.

    Cons: You need a reliable wifi or 4G signal and feel comfortable with video chat.

    Thanks for reading to the end. Please ensure that any therapist you contact is qualified to Practice online.

    These websites are directories for UK-based therapists

    Counselling Directory – Find a Counsellor Near You

    Counselling Directory connects you with professional counsellors and therapists near you to help you find the help you…

    www.counselling-directory.org.uk

    Find Counselling, Therapists, Psychologists – Psychology Today UK

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    www.psychologytoday.com

  • Jack Goes to The Beach

    A short picture story for children.

    Jack is walking on the beach. He has blonde sticky-up hair and is carrying a backpack. He is wearing shorts
    All the images are created by the author using a variety of craft skills, AI and processing tools.

    This story emerged from my own personal therapy. Jack is partly the child I was and partly the child I can be now having freed myself of past shackles. Therapy can set you free in any number of ways.

  • 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

    A person sat in the rear of a sailing boat with red sails, setting off into the sunset.
    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.

  • 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 for post
    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 for post
    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 for post
    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

  • Finding Your Voice

    Do you unconsciously limit your self-expression?

    John Walter ⭐Jan 16 · 5 min read [First published in The Ascent – Medium]

    Image by Dawnyell Reese from Pixabay

    The medium doesn’t matter. As an artist, a musician, a writer or as a human being, you reach your full potential when you find your voice.

    Most of us never do. Some, like me, think we have found it only to discover years later that we are still hitting invisible barriers in every aspect of our self-expression.

    I am a musician and writer. I have recognised that the significant shifts in my creative expression, have come not from some artistic revelation or inspiration, but a conversation with a coach or counsellor. My self-awareness and emotional literacy have a direct, measurable correlation to my creative expression.

    So below is a little process I go through when I feel I have lost my voice in some way.

    First Question:

    Is there any space between stimulus and response when you are speaking?

    In 2000 a coach asked, “Why, when I ask you a question, do you look away for a moment before answering?”

    in 2020 my counsellor observed “When I asked you about your feelings, it was as if you took a step away from yourself. You seemed to observe your feelings from a distance and then return to yourself to answer.”

    The exploration prompted by these professional interventions caused a massive shift in my freedom of expression.

    Second Question:

    What is happening in that space?

    What is your body doing? What are the thoughts? What is the present emotion?

    In 2000 my eyes would look up or to the side. I could sense anxiety or fear. It was challenging to be specific about thoughts that happened in a millisecond, but I had an idea I was censoring myself, afraid of saying the wrong thing.

    In 2020 it was different. My eyes still did that thing, but there was no anxiety or fear. I had experienced 20 years of being fearless in my speaking. Now there was sadness and pain. I was still censoring myself! It was extraordinary my counsellor had asked the same fundamental question 20 years later. I thought I had dealt with that!

    Third Question:

    When did you first do that?

    Do not consider this as a history question. What flashes into your mind Don’t censor don’t judge, don’t even think about it. Let your unconscious give you the answer.

    In 2000 I had a picture of my childhood dining table on a Sunday night.

    Father sat at one end, mother and seven children around the edge. Walls a deep red, table a dark old wooden affair. I was sat on a bench, an older brother on either side. No one was talking. Above the always warm stove was a smudge on the wall — the smudge marks where Father’s dinner plate had once made violent contact followed by an unintelligible parental tirade.

    The truth is seldom welcome, especially at dinner.

    Margaret Atwood

    For a while, Father experimented with cooking Sunday dinner for all of us. On this occasion, it was a casserole. Whole Brussel Sprouts were bobbing around in it, completely uncooked. We all watched our father. As soon as he looked away from me, I snatched the uncooked sprout from my mouth, and before he looked up, it was safely in my pocket. All seven children were following the same procedure.

    I was terrified at what he may unleash if he thought there was anything less than total appreciation of the remarkable results of his torturous culinary afternoon.

    The nature of our terror was such that even out in the garden later, as we each discreetly searched for a place to deposit the offending sprouts, there was no giggling or relief, no relaxing of the tension. This behaviour was severe survival mechanisms kicking in.

    Fourth Question:

    Is there a way you can resolve or complete this?

    The thing to do here is to look at this historical incident. Don’t worry if it is half-remembered. It could even be some fantasy you have created because reality is too painful to contemplate. Whatever it is, you need to let it go. It is still driving your life.

    The situation no longer exists. It may require forgiveness. You could use a ritual like writing it on paper and burning it. You could speak to the people involved. Whatever works for you.

    I had not spoken to my father for many years. He was no longer any threat. If I visited for a meal, he would drift off to the front room to watch television, and I would sit and chat with my mother.

    So I arranged to visit on a day I knew she was going out for part of the evening. I had a simple plan. I was going to talk to him. I wanted to experience the freedom of communicating, without that feeling of terror that was there in childhood.

    We ate a simple meal together chatting happily and then he did his usual thing of sitting in the front room and turning the telly on. “What do you want to watch?” he asked, picking up the television magazine.

    “You know what? I think I’d rather sit here and chat.”

    And there we were. No big drama, no hysterics, just a father and son talking about their lives together and sharing their experiences.

    Extra Bonus Question:

    What do you need to keep this in place?

    This epiphany with my father marks a point in my life where I moved from struggling with circumstances to living a life I loved. I spoke my truth. I had found my voice. I created a successful music business which served me well for 13 years.

    Circumstances change. For me, my business collapsed in the recession, and I found it challenging to create an alternative successful career path.

    2020 — After several years of struggling with difficult circumstances such as health issues and bereavement, I am back with a counsellor. The questions are the same, but the answers are not. It leads me to wonder if there is a way I could have used these four questions to keep my authentic voice ringing out.

    Creativity is a fluctuating process. I have ridden a roller coaster. My lesson now is to keep returning to these four questions when blocks arise. In my speech, piano playing, singing, writing, cooking, whatever it is.

    Is there a millisecond space between an idea and its execution where I am censoring, judging, criticising or otherwise sabotaging my authentic voice?

    “When we don’t listen to our intuition, we abandon our souls. And we abandon our souls because we are afraid if we don’t, others will abandon us. We’ve been raised to question what we know, to discount and discredit the authority of our gut.” — Terry Tempest Williams

    2020 marks a new beginning for me. Reconnecting with my soul and helping others to do the same.

  • Walk like a child

    Discover the freedom you have always had.

    John Walter ⭐Feb 13 · 3 min read [First published in Live Your Life On Purpose – Medium]

    I was standing in a car park, drinking my morning cup of coffee when cars started arriving, and children and parents began to spill out all around me. Next to my van was the entrance to a pathway leading to a school.

    I stood and watched as the chaotic parade began. I became fascinated by the walking styles displayed. Later I tried them out for myself in a secluded corner of the local park.

    Watch some children. Copy their walk and experience the freedom they inhabit.

    Children walking

    Each child walked past me, expressing their whole being through their walk.

    Child walking #1

    First up was a child around nine years old — almost running — looking like they had an invisible thread attached to their belly button, drawing them forward. The arms and legs seemed to be flapping wildly like a rag doll. The solar plexus was leading, the rest of the body and mind drawn along by its power.

    Child walking #2

    The eyes led this child. From side to side searching the path for anything of interest. Stamping on a leaf, kicking aside a branch. Arms uninvolved, automatically adjusting their position for balance.

    Child walking #3

    Across the entrance to the path were painted parallel lines. The legs were leading. In each pace, there was a determination to stretch the stride the full width of the tracks. For ten paces, nothing else mattered but achieving that goal. Then, task completed, they trotted off on a new mission.

    Photo by Brett Sayles from Pexels

    Walk like a child

    How we walk affects our whole being. I spent 20 minutes trying out each style and a few others. As I walked a new way, my entire mood changed.

    I was aware that I could let go and feel my being respond.

    Some walks felt like conscious acts led by the mind. Others seemed focused on the heart. Overall it felt like a different chakra center was in charge of each.

    A child is responding to its environment in every moment. There is a play between mind, body, spirit, and emotions. They are not following long engrained patterns. There is little awareness of how they look to others.

    For a few minutes, I felt the freedom of my inner child. Allowing that freedom to come through for a few minutes energized me and carried me through the day.

    Maybe on a day when you feel weighed down by all your worldly concerns you could change your walk. Who knows what else might change as a result.

    Losing a Child to Suicide