These are profoundly intense times. There is not a soul I know whose life is not somehow being touched by change, loss, death or ending. It's crucible moments at the macro level, the collective dark night of the soul. How to fare in these moments that can feel so overwhelming that all the impulse to do is shy away, dive into the phone, hide, run, deny? It's so poignantly understandable the desire to veer away from that which simply signals pain, but it would be a missed opportunity. For those moments require the paradoxical reflex of the Emergency Services, namely run towards that which spells anguish, dive head first into that which heralds grief.

Why? Why engage in this sort of ostensible masochism? Why, because that is where the grace resides, in that darkness there is learning and an evolution of the soul and mind that can't be googled, tik-toked or tweeted. It's profound life changing work, lonely, individual and solitary. Not easy chat over text, but fundamental existential sense making, who am I, and what does this mean to me?

This labour of learning is critical to truly maturing and living a life of meaning rather than ephemera. Technology today is so superficial, a mild perpetual anaesthesia that takes the edge off existing, coaxes us away from anything that could sting let alone shape our essence. Lures of YouTube videos that promise enlightenment in a 4 minute video, or a Tik Tok that promises to encapsulate centuries of Buddhist wisdom. What the short term gratification of life today fundamentally seeks to decry is life is hard work. It takes aching amounts of time to truly learn anything. Wisdom is not a gif, it's a battle weary gift, achieved often alone, with no accolades or applause, only the soul knowing the courage that's been employed to weather whatever, the soul who says, 'I saw that'.

Equally, whilst the work has to be ultimately a single endeavour, the journey does not have to be done alone. In times like these, seeking out those practised in these patient paths is key. They won't market loudly, or champion their ancient skills to all and sundry. No, it will be in their peace, the comfort of their presence. The fact they simple allow the griever to grieve, the heartbroken to mourn, and like a sentry of the Soul they bear, quiet, noble witness to sacred work, seeking neither to change or chivvy anyone out of where they are. Instead, appreciating what they are sharing and recognising the depth and the limits of any language.

Death has been virtually erased from our Culture. Sterile and quarantined, it's talked about in hushed tones before the conversation quickly shifts to holidays and other acts of denial. But death stands there quizzical, wondering why we aren't all preparing for the final act in this drama that all of us will experience. Death doulas are midwives of those who are transitioning, partnering the family in the emotion of letting go, resisting, screaming, accepting and finally witnessing the passage of a loved one. Pet or partner, the loss is huge and when we don't have some framework to house our own personal shiva, we do a disservice to a particularly exquisite period in our lives. Dousing death in denial is a life half lived, for to live richly is to know the impermanence of who we are, this character we all play.

Allowing a place for comfort and for someone perhaps more  wisened by the bitter ways of life than you is a profound act of self-kindness. Benefiting from hard won wisdow  seems a show of practical sense that can only comfort, only help.

So in these times of relentlessness, fear, loss and sorrow, reach out to those who can hold a beacon, show a light, lead for a while on your path. They can't do the work for you, but they can hold the space for you whilst you mourn, lament and let go of that which will no longer go with you. You're not alone.

Safe passage.

Acceptance has to be by far the hardest life skill, or it certainly has been the case in my own experience. I've always been struck how waftily the concept is spoken about in books. A simple matter of 'letting go', 'surrendering', 'allowing' or perhaps worst the knowledgable sage shaking their head dictating, 'it is what it is'. However, the human spirit and frankly nature isn't one that caves so easily. We have plans, dreams, ambitions, aspirations and reality ought to damn well get in line with those expectations. This nexus point of realism and aspiration is keenly felt in that spot called frustration, the exquisitely constraining experince of being held back and perceiving events conspiring against us. As the UK kicks off a New Year that looks eerily un-new, lockdown 3.0 affords a saturnian opportunity to exercise this muscle of acceptance in a way that maybe unwelcome, but is indubitably wise.

 Acceptance: The non-linear journey

A personal story perhaps illustrates my own masterclass in acceptance. It's certainly not typified by grace and dignity and as a Coach I can't help but chuckle at my own tenacity or more honestly stubborness, but it does demonstrate the pain of acceptance and the benefit to the self of getting there authentically-not deluding ourselves or pretending with eyes covered that it's 'fine'. Self deceit is pernicious and we are often our most critical audience, so the process for me wasn't without real,true, stress and I believe to be done properly and definitively, i.e crossing that particularly bridge only once, won't be without pain generally.

The teacher of acceptance for me was the property developer who took on the two penthouse flats in my development in London and elected to gut them both consecutively. This process began back at the end of 2019, a time of freedom and travel, so the noise and intrusion wasn't taxing. The start of 2020 was much the same, work and travel took me away from any length of exposture but as the first lockdown in March 2020 kicked in, the enormity of the noise landed with a bang. Drilling, hammering, masonry demolished, this ear splitting cacophany began at 8am and continued unabated until 5pm, with little respite at the weekend seeing much of Saturday dedicated to futher demolition. 

At first conversations were civil albeit strained- how long would this last? Given the unprecedented times, could there be some kind of noise reduction (preferably stopping, forever, now)? However, as time continued and the noise began to drill into every corner of the waking day, with little in the way of escape except drawn out food shopping visits and walks in parks, civilities gave way to impatience. The developer was intractable, the property management a puppet. Exchanges became more combative and I despaired at the absence of compassion, empathy or frankly humanity. Tenants who could moved out, flat owners joined the flow of complaints and still the noise continued all day, every day.

Recognising self defeating behaviours

As an ex-Officer of Sandhurst, values such as honour, integrity and selfless sacrifice had been drilled into me and I was flummoxed by the utter lack of compromise or flexibility. My determination grew stronger, periods of driling recorded, the concept of the benefit of many outweighing the corporate greed of the few advanced, all met with deaf ears and derision. As parents will know and indeed those trained in the art of interrogation, endless, unceasing noise is acutely damaging to the Central Nervous Sytem. Patience becomes frayed, emotional regulation imparied and sleep interrupted. Rationalism is replaced with distorted perception, the body craving silence to repair the neuronal activity of a battered brain. There is a desperate edge to behaviour with the fight and flight system on perennial hyper vigilance. All in all not a receipe for constructive discussion.

 So what happened next? Did it end with peace and satisfaction? Was Christmas typified by silence and a serene respite? No.

Brick walls - everyone's is spaced differently

I slammed into my own brick wall. No matter how many emails I carefully crafted, no matter how many irrefutable examples of ear shattering drilling I recorded, the situation continued. The permission had been given, the conversions were happening and I was utterly powerless to make things otherwise. It sounds oddly obvious that statement, but for that to sink in to a deep existetntial level is cripplingly painful. I've always subscribed to taking action, driving forward, around or even through obstacles, persisting, persevering, molding reality to fit my picture, but this time, despite all efforts to the contrary my endeavours were categorically futile. The quote above by Tolkein is so apt for acceptance. It's a brutal honest admission that we do not, without caveat, want the current reality, in fact we would do almost anything for it to be otherwise, but we now know we can't. Resistance only allows the emotional anguish to persist and the casualty in that war is always you. 

Hitting that brick wall is different for everyone. For me it took well over 6 months of almost all out war, a testimony to my strength of spirit but more self damagingly my refusal to accept what was, which if I'd done more quickly would have seen me suffer significantly less. Instead I had to wander the lonely highway of Elizabeth Kubler Ross' stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally, eventually acceptance. It's a hard won destination, not completed linearly and sometimes, perhaps sometimes not reached at all. That place of acceptance demands loss, a letting go of a 'should' reality. It acknowledges what we all fear-our impotence, our lack of control and influence. It demands a recognition tha the world does not work to our standards, isn't fair and the good guys don't win. However, perhaps that is what wisdom demands-a collapse of hubris, not into bitterness or cynicism but an embracing of humility and a reduction in our hungry egos.

 2021: The year of acceptance?

The lesson of acceptance when finally reached, sees a sweeping away of the old ruins of dreams that now seem dated and deluded. However, that clearing of rubble is also the laying of foundations for something new, deeper and more mature. The child like need for instant gratification is replaced by the patience of a more strategic soul. It takes conscious, deliberate sustained effort though and I suspect that is a good place to start when looking out at the vista of 2021. For much of the world and certainly the UK, lockdown demands an acceptance of the status quo. A short term sacrifice for a long term gain. However, that short term can feel like a life sentence and any constraint on freedom can appear almost blasphemous in a democracy. Acceptance is not passivity, and certainly not defeat. Acceptance is the wise soul seeing how things are and recognising the fraility of being human. That our dreams can be bold but if we fly too close to the sun, we are no different to Icarus and will fall. There is courage in acceptance and yes, some grief, but the alternative is far more destructive. Railing against a reality we don't like, won't make it change, but it will change us, into bitter, angry and unkind folk and I for one, having occupied that space for some time in 2020, have no desire to return.

As Lockdown 2.0 for London tip toes to a close, and 2020 begins it's final month, this has without exception been one of the most gruelling years in memory. The excruciating stripping down of liberties, slicing away of small joys and tearing away of the company of loved ones, has been crushing. Slowly and unflinchingly this pandemic decimated any flimsy defences and exposed our humanity, our frailities and most of all what makes life so worth living. This is a post for everyone whose read my blog during the lock downs, a written salute to your courage and fortitude, your grit, determination, tears and heart crushing despair. This article is dedicated to those who continued, who quietly despaired and still got out of bed, who bought coffee and watched it go cold, who listened to loved ones despite hope flickering. You're here, you held and so now we look ahead. But before we do, let's take a look back. No saccharine platitiudes about clouds and silver linings or best thing that ever happened. This was not. It was dark, desperate and bleak and it's changed us all. But the change is worth acknowledging, looking at our new selves, matured, wiser, stronger and yes scarred. A moment to honour all that's been endured.

Looking to the Self for support

Friends were not always within reach, family not close by, loved ones frequently in another town, another house, another timezone. This has been the year of being the hero of our story and recognising it wasn't like the movies. This hero got up even when there was nothing to get up for. This hero made food, kept breathing and persevered even when the business shut down, the job was lost, the bank balance depleted. This was the hero who didn't wear a cape or have Marvel copyright their movements, but who smiled when there was nothing to provoke joy, who led the team when they were sick to their stomach, who made decisions with no precedent and no guarantee. This was the hero who held on, hung in there and kept putting one foot after the other, despite disapointment and fear. This was the hero who was in the badlands and kept walking. You did it. You're here.

 Managing emotions that seemed almost overwhelming

For some of us there was gutting loss, a business, a loved one, an opportunity, a pet, all of which was attended by feelings of grief, hopelessness and sorrow. For others of us it was a time of frustration, exhaustion, boredom and anger and others still grind, hope, excitement as work boomed and opportunities abound. Whatever your emotional panopoly, the power was in surfing the experience with grace and dignity, deeply appreciating that no matter what you faced, how daunting, uncomfortable or distressing, you had the resources to continue, to persist and ultimately to prevail. This has been the year of initiation in the mastery of our own emotional landscapes. Looking at the vistas we have traversed, the dark valleys and the heady heights and all of that was accomplished by one person, you, alone. Perhaps you were blessed with constant support, perhaps not, but 2020 ensured that invariably the onus was on you to manage the majority alone. A heavy Sisyphus moment of the soul, pushing your own rock forward up your personal mountain. Success or failure in your own fragile hands. Mastering how we feel is the work of warriors. It takes time to rein in the demons and to force the sunshine when only darkness seems to permeate our experience. We've flooded our days with hope and equally, perhaps, allowed that very same hope to dwindle as we ourselves faltered. But the muscle has been built and strengthened and that kind of learning never fades, forged in our very fibre.

Progress wasn't outside it was inside

This pandemic was the Goliath to our David. Progress was hard to forge. Pushing ahead was met with one obstacle after another, false starts, rugs pulled, false summits. Until the dawning realisation came that ultimately the learning was inside. Could I learn to accept? To allow? To scream in the face of the unjust but recognise this is how things are, for now? Not forever, but for now. The wisdom of Solomon was foisted upon us and so the work of maturity came into play. Chopping wood, carrying water, doing the basics, getting them right and looking at our current status quo and finding joy where we could. In the eyes of our loved one, our children, our pet, our parent, our friend. Those who'd previously we'd rushed past, pushed thorugh or even passed off as not important, now were painted in a different light. Fresh new appreciations dawned, closer conversations, re-alignments on previous ground that had been so diametrically opposed. Truces were made in the face of the cruelty of COVID. What we had was suddenly alot, with so much being taken away. Zoom coffees deepened into conversations about what really mattered, sharing our vulnerabilities and seeking to really connect in a way perhaps previously we'd shunned. It was about the heart, virtual hugs that allowed our shared humanity to shine thorugh. I see you. You see me. We witnessed each other, the greatest gift that you can give another human-to be seen, to be heard, testimony borne to our significance.

Re-prioritisation: Recognising what mattered

It wasn't footballers, Hollywood superstars or CEOs of billion dollar corporates who garnered our respect. It was the bin men, the nurses, the doctors, the shelf stackers, truck drivers and caregivers. It was to them we looked with newly humbled eyes. An all new appreciation for the work of plumbers, frontline workers who kept things ticking when the pandemic wanted to stop the clock, the indomitable forces of human will pushing beyond fear, beyond anxiety and keeping on for the benefit of those other than ourselves. That selfless sacrifice and commmitment to a higher cause, humanity at its best. Simple pleasures, the baking of bread, the sharing of laughter, the smiles through windows, screens, those exquisite, basic human needs brought into sharp focus. May that re-prioritsation last, may it be about matters of the heart and soul that continue post pandemic, rather than materialism and self promotion. 

Leading a new kind of life

As the world moved through 2020, there was no doubt that for some of us leadership failed, fundamentally not providing, despite promising otherwise. Memories will remain, but what that offered was a new kind of choice. The chance to decide who we would be, who we could become despite the prevailing example. In many ways 2020 has been like a kiln, hardening attitudes, stiffening differences, concretising polarisations. Yet paradoxically it has offered the ultimate pause, the ultimate intercession to create new habits, focus our attention to create new perspectives and perceive more fairly, more humanely, with more compassion. As 2021 beckons at the end of the dark tunnel that has been 2020, these are the hard won achievements we take on. Practising those habits in whatever the new paradigm will be, is the only way of signalling that all the suffering was worth it. Whilst I'd wish no repeat of 2020, and my heart bows to the loss of so many, I do take with me into 2021 a new won deepened wonder at the beautiful horror of life, and it's that bewitching combination that I look forward to sharing with you all. 

What does it mean to abandon the self? It sounds abstract, a psychological trick of the mind, something removed from daily live and irrelevant to me and my daily grind, hopes and aspirations? Or maybe, it's at the core of every nagging sorrow, each murmur of the heart, or squeeze of the soul that's cast aside as we surf the net, scroll our social media or muse over what to eat next. In a world of distractions, that seeks to lure our attention to anything but ourselves, taking time out to sit with this idea and perhaps explore if I've abandoned myself, I can begin to discover how I can rescue me when I feel sad or lost?

Abandoning myself-how is that even possible?

I wake up, I pee, check my phone, reach for the coffee. Whatever the routine, it seems an odd concept to abandon the self. Out of reach even, maybe too remote to be of much value. But valuable it is, and so in a bid to ground the ethereal into the practical here are some examples of what abandoning ourselves in practise might look like. You could be a parent, a partner, a packed professional. Each day you make a little promise to yourself, that today you will open that book you've been eyeing, clear a little space to do some meditating, or perhaps make time to go for a brief walk, alone in a park you've seen and always quite hoped to explore. And then the phone rings, the email lands or the child cries and that promise to the self is parked, shelved, put on pause. Again. Perhaps you're a therapist, or simply an able listener to whom others turn, but today you're feeling raw, vulnerable, little if any bandwidth, aching for a hug and wanting to close the door or reach out to ask to be heard. Instead, you push that feeling deep down below the surface, squashed, suppressed, press a smile onto a face dim with lowness, and ignore the pleas from you to be heard in the same way you are hearing others.

In and of themselves, these examples may sound like the common day to day scarifices we make in order to function in a busy world. Perhaps you maybe cocking your head thinking, 'I like to put others first, it's my choice because I'm ...' insert whatever feels relevant to you. But I'd like to gently nip at those rationalisations and invite you to look again. Deprioritising the self is walking away from you in your moment of need. It's turning your back on yourself, saying no and saying yes to something else. In and of itself this small betrayal may seem inconsequential, necessary even for the very fabric of life. But the peril lies in this becoming a default setting in the face of all or any of your own moments of need. A betrayal of the self is a betrayal nonetheless, death by a thousand cuts.

Why does this matter now? In a pandemic?

Surely now more than ever, I ought to be available for others? Ought to be putting myself second in the face of the anguish of those more in need than me? Recovering yourself does not equate to ignoring others, nor indulging in narcissism. It's a balance, or perhaps a rebalancing. It's the recognition that you, just as any other is deserving of your compassion.Walking away from ourselves is a dangerous pattern, perhaps one witnessed when we were younger by those bigger than us, in pain and unable to cope. So we modelled that kind of desertion, thinking it was how love worked. But we are not defined by the patterns of the past and turning back towards ourselves does not equate to a turning away from others. It means that if I recognise my value, worth, need and deservability, I am more able to see that in you. If I can offer myself compassion, recognise the anguish in my moment, then I am more able to see and support you in the pain of yours.

A pandemic is experienced indiviudally and collectively. If we are equipped and able to support ourselves through it, we can become a more available stalwart for those around us.

Why do I do this? How can I change?

Asking why is a painful question, full of judgement. Why do we do anything? Because it seemed a useful, helpful even, protective strategy at the time, but now we know better and we can make a different choise. Invariably it stems from childhood, when parents who were doing the best they could, simply continued the experience of parenting they'd received, for better or worse. No judgement there, we are all doing the best we can. We are not children any more, but there is an aspect of ourself that is; that is that little person who likes ice cream but always gets told no, who likes splashing in puddles but is frowned at for being silly, who loves drawing but was always scolded for wasting time. If those were messages then, they don't have to be the messages now. Now is a time to remold, to return and to recalibrate. Return to the little self, and say, 'Ok, today some ice cream', 'Today we colour', 'Today we play in the rain.' Yes, you maybe 52 with a pension and barely any savings, or a parent with not a moment to spare and mouths to feed, but you can find a minute in amongst the chaos to turn back to you and say yes, for you I always have a minute. Because if you don't, if you always say no, then life slowly fades, loses it's colour and a little part of you will forever wonder, where has the joy gone?

It's the small things

Change isn't seismic. It can be, but true trajectory change, is made with a sequence of small, almost imperceptible adjustments. Turning back to you is the same. That small aspect of ourself maybe oddly reluctant to listen to our efforts to engage. We may snort at attempts to be more considerate to our own private child-like desires, considering them contrived. What I would say to that is persist. You are worth the time, the commitment, the attention and is it any surpise that the little inner you is perhaps a bit sceptical? After all you've said no for years and now it's yes? It can almost feel too good to be true. But true it is, and prove it so. Gently, gently it goes. I have a little request of my coaching clients when we explore this concept. All it requires is a small gesture of appreciation to themselves in recognition for a job well done. It doesn't have to be big, flashy or expensive. It could be a coffee from their favourite cafe, a walk along the river for which there has been no time, or a long bath. I do this exercise for slightly selfish reasons-I am so moved by what people will do for themselves when it's made mandatory. The ones I've remembered include a client driving past his favourite football ground on the commute home, another a magazine, but my most treasured of all, was an evening text from a client who'd always been so hard on himself. 'Tonight Louisa, I bought myself a finger of fudge. It was delicious.'

I've never forgotten that. Is it time for your finger of fudge?