Heart Box

I am having something of a parental re-vamp, at the moment. There have been a lot of changes at home, lately, bringing with them a number of challenges. It's OK to have these challenges in life, I think, but I want to be conscious of my parenting by being able to connect with my children as much as I can, in order to understand them. I want them to understand their own feelings.

That said, they are pretty good at being able to articulate their thoughts and fears. "I just don't know how to work this out" was a tearful remark made by my 5 year-old son, recently. This sentence stung my heart, because I could totally feel his pain and confusion in the midst of all these changes we are going through. I don't expect him to be able to "work this out"; I don't expect him to be able to process this all like an adult; I do expect wobbles and tears and fears and that is why I am doing my best to be able to keep this line of communication open, for my children to know that they can talk to me about their feelings; and for them to know that their feelings are completely valid and acceptable.

I want them to know that I know it's hard for them and that I am trying to make things better for them. I hope that I am, because I don't think I can try any harder than what I'm already doing.

Part of the work I have been doing in the schools I did some sessions with, involved choosing one of the printed intentions I'd organised. Intentions are sentences or themes which inspire the child (or member of staff) and can choose to follow each day. They select a sentence out of the box, and decide whether or not they are going to go ahead with it. It is a voluntary thing, but the idea is to practice mindfulness using this intention as they go about their day. My aim is for the individual to reach the end of the school day, and think, "yes, I achieved this" when they reflect back on their activities, conversations, lessons, and feelings. Reflection is a mindful activity in itself, and good practice in which to be thankful for ourselves and others, and think about how to modify any behaviours that the individual wishes to change - or to be able to simply identify a need to modify a behaviour/thought/intention etc - for the better.

I decided that today I would bring this into my home, because it gives us all a focus. It gives each of us a chance to not only pick an intention at the beginning of the day, but to re-connect with each other at the end of the day at our evening meal, give each other support, praise, encouragement and reflect together. My aim is that this will bring us closer together as a family, to give recognition for each other's feelings, as well as reinforce and grow our love.

What do you think? How do you bring emotional development into your family? I'd love to know and learn from other's experiences, so please share! Thank you.

Presence

There have been frequent occasions where, whilst on a run, I have been greeted by this wonderful sight. The sun, reflecting on the ocean as a silvery-white glow, its gentle yet persistent beams striking through the clouds. Today's view, however, got to me so much I was almost breathless with awe (and it was not the result of running away from the inquisitive cattle in the adjacent field).
There was just something about the scene that was so powerful I could feel it in my chest, a rush of love and happiness to be able to witness the beauty that was there, in front of me. Free for anyone who could see it, to soak up the gift the eye gives to the soul. Who could look at this and not feel a stirring in their heart? The simple pleasure of being able to tune in to the surroundings and experience that moment of happiness.
I stood still, and drank up everything around me: the crisp, cool breeze that danced around the field; the chattering birdsong, mingled with the occasional "moo" from behind the hedgerow, and the loud sighs of waves meeting land; the delicate salty smell lingering in the air and the taste on my lips; the contrast of the dark blue sea, the heavy clouds, against the green of the fields and the striking sunlight on the water. I stood still, and took everything in. A few moments of stillness, where I closed my eyes, and listened to myself. I could only hear the quiet of my breath, and the joy of the moment, a tangible sense of peace for myself, the words "thank you" whispering in my mind, and gratitude for everything around me. What more could I ask for, at such a moment, other than the gift of presence?

Fear-Less

One day, in the summer holidays, I took my five year-old swimming. He was under-confident and clung to me, having lost all the confidence he had gained in his swimming lessons, before the summer holidays began. Then the alarm for the 3-minute warning of the wave machine sounded. He panicked, began to shiver and asked me to take him out of the water.
"It's OK to be scared", I told him. He tried to pull me towards the shallow end, but I held him tightly, and stayed where we were. I decided to use this as a mindfulness opportunity. "I can feel how scared you are. What is it that worries you the most?" He replied, "being pushed over by the waves". So we had something to work on. "That's a possibility. You're scared of the danger, aren't you? That's OK, we can work with this, too. Are you still feeling really scared?" He nodded. "That's OK. But you know that right now, it is safe for you to feel scared, because I am here and I won't let you get into danger." He began to loosen his grip around me. I empathised with his feelings, naming his emotion (fear), and together we accepted the fear. As the wave machine began swirling the water around, he had already acknowledged that he was scared, accepted his emotions, and been given a safe space to experience it. When he accepted that his fear would not be realised, he relaxed a bit.
At this point, I moved a few paces deeper into the water, the waves colliding around us. He allowed me to do this, and I asked him how scared he was. "Not as much as I was" he said. Then he asked to get down and go under the water with me. We submerged ourselves for a few seconds, holding hands, before resurfacing. He was jubilant: "I did it!" He suddenly found his confidence, and he directed me to the shallow end, where we jumped over the waves together. His moment of fear in the past, replaced with fun and confidence.
I have used this sort of technique for all sorts of moments where fear is the thread of the situation. In all cases, once the fear has been acknowledged and accepted, the process of overcoming it can begin. Fear will remain as long as it is unexplained, or unidentified. By tapping into the fear and unravelling it, it can be overcome.

Child's play

Two giggly voices are echoing around the room, interspersed with the sound of paintbrushes dabbing furiously onto paper, and accented by the occasional SPLAT! of bare feet jumping up and down on the spot. This is the activity of two children painting, first thing on a Sunday morning. Oblivious to the November wind and driving rain outside, they are fully immersed in painting a forest: this one has purple, red and green apples growing there. Aw, how sweet! It also contains poo, but we won't dwell on that...

As the two friends continue to paint, they are unaware of everything else around them. I wonder if they would even notice if a horse clip-clopped its way across the kitchen, as they are really enjoying the act of creating this picture, together.

When they finish, they stand back a bit and admire their work. I ask them to imagine being in the forest: they immediately press their noses against the paper and try to get into the picture. "can you imagine how those apples smell" I ask them, and they both take in a big breath through their noses, as if to smell the fruit. Then they are done; they abandon their work of art, and run off to engage in the next activity, the painting forgotten in an instant, and replaced with the next delight.

It's easy to be a child in terms of living in the moment: to focus the mind and the body completely on whatever it is they are doing, block out the outside world, and totally immerse themselves in their present experience. If you've ever got involved in a task and become completely focused on it - then looked at the clock and surprised yourself by the unnoticed passage of time - this is what young children are like for most of their day. Lucky them: I might have to try it, myself!

Mindfulness in hospital

Last week, I reached a milestone for my work. I ran a taster session for staff at the hospital where I work as a nurse, under my business as The Inner Space Project.
It was a seemingly small step, but I was so excited about it. For a start, more people than I had expected wanted to come along and find out about it. The session seemed to go down well with those who had come along, and crucially, they want more! I taught a series of activities based on focusing and visualisation, and ended with a relaxing meditation. I got some appreciative feedback, for which I am grateful for. It was a great session!

You see, I believe my role in nursing goes much deeper than the clinical everyday nursing stuff - this is important, don't get me wrong. But I want to weave the deeper stuff into my work, and I believe that others can do this, too, and have a positive influence not just on themselves or their patients, but within the department they work. I am full of ideas about how I can bring my clinical practice and my mindfulness into alignment, and use accordingly - and I am chomping at the bit to get it going!

The deepest thread amongst everything I do as a nurse (and in life) is to form a connection with others, and teach them to do the same, but also connect with themselves. I feel that our own inner voices often sabotage our good deeds to ourselves, and if that's happening on an internal level, it is being reflected externally, as well. At the centre of everything, the most important things to remember, are that we love ourselves, we are gentle with ourselves, and we forgive ourselves. If we can turn down the white noise, the noise that jeopardizes these kind and essential deeds, then we can start to influence others in the same way. What happens after that is connection, fulfilment and joy. A crazy, hippy ideology, maybe - but who says we can't try?!

If you'd like to find out more, please contact me at innerspaceproject1@gmail.com

pill-popping or hearts and minds?

Today's news has included an article about a new pill for men and women who drink excessively, to help them reduce their alcohol intake. It has made the headlines and induced discussions in the media, with the slant of being a new "wonder-drug" that will help many people.

That's great, isn't it?

Yes, it is great,

I don't think there is anything wrong with taking medication. I am a nurse, so I spend a great deal of my time administering tablets, medicines, drips and antibiotics to help make the people I look after, better. This is fine.

But...

I do also feel that as a society, we are easily swayed by medications to combat illness. We are conditioned to believe that a pill will make everything better, again. I find myself telling my children that "this medicine will make you feel better", or telling my patient, "this tablet will take the pain away", or "this antibiotic will kill the bug you have". Yes, they may well do, and invariably, that is what happens.

But...

Why do we think that we are only capable of fixing ourselves with a pill? What is it about our fixation with medicines to cure all ills? As a nurse, if I have a patient who is agitated, anxious or confused, the planned route would be to speak to the doctor to get a tablet to calm the patient down.

But...

With increasing frequency, I am using mindfulness techniques in my clinical practice to help my patients. I have had some surprising and successful results, from children to the elderly; from the scared and confused to the acutely ill, climbing-the-walls-with-pain patients.
For example, about a year ago I did a shift in A&E and was looking after a very scared, confused elderly lady. She did not know she was in hospital, and was desperate to go home. She had fallen at home and was very unsteady on her feet in the department, which was dangerous because she repeatedly got up from her chair to try to find her way into the cold, wet morning in her dressing gown and slippers. I sat down with her, did some breathing and focusing work with her, and then did a 5-minute meditation with her. As she relaxed in her chair, she settled, and then dozed off! In the time it would have taken me to either speak to a doctor about getting something to make her less agitated, or tried to get her to sit in her chair by telling her where she was, what had happened to her, and answered the repeating questions, thereby increasing her agitated state, I had simply taught her to relax her body and her mind for long enough for her to fall asleep.

So...

It works! So much so, that I am taking this further, starting with teaching mindfulness and meditation to my colleagues and other staff at the trust I work in.

Coming back to the news today, though, makes me feel a slight disappointment. Not because I don't think the tablet will work, as it sounds very effective; but because it compounds the all-round belief that we can only be fixed with conventional medicine. It reinforces the increasing belief in our society that the NHS can be relied upon to fix everybody, and it increases the "clinical" perception that society's health can only be managed "clinically". We are generally losing our ability to see things more holistically, that there can be some other frameworks that support an individual to take better care of themselves, manage their existing conditions as a "bundle" of care rather than singularly; and that by teaching people to connect within to understand why, for example, they feel the need to drink 3 pints of beer a night, they might be able to reduce their intake and feel healthier as a result.

Zen and Jam

I was given a windfall of plums, this week, by my friend the Jammy Bodger. Today was my only chance of getting some jam made, as some of the plums were starting to look a bit mouldy.
I love making jam. But I make such a horrible, sticky mess that the processes of washing up, and scraping dried jam juice from my oven and pans take the edge off the occasion.
Today was no exception. Well actually, it was an exception, because today I made more mess than I've ever made, before. I let the pan boil over; the bowl I used for the stones and the skin wasn't big enough, so plum juice dripped down the sides, onto the worktop, and down the cupboard door.
For a while, I wondered why on earth I was creating such chaos for myself, when normally, I would at least try to keep things organised.
Eventually, I realised what I was doing; I was inappropriately multi-tasking, resulting in something Not Quite Right. Whilst the plums were bubbling away, I went off to do some jobs on my laptop, in another room. One of the jobs on my long to-do list for today involved making a phone call. The phone call reminded me that I needed to send someone an email; and when I opened up my email inbox I found 3 emails I needed to respond to. In the midst of this, I could hear my oven timer beeping, telling me it was time to dredge the skin and stones from the bubbling pan in the kitchen.
So then, it was no wonder I was finding the process of making jam very frustrating; the emails I needed to take action on seemed difficult to do; and my to-do list was starting to annoy me, with my inner voice sarcastically mocking me: "Ooh, you think you're so clever with your list-making, why not add to the list just to prove how much you can do in a day!"
After an hour of pacing up and down the hall between laptop and sticky pan, I decided enough was enough, and focused on the one task. The jam-making. But I found myself rushing, trying to get on to the next task, whilst separating plum stones from flesh, and making a terrible mess of it. My patience was starting to wear thin.
At this point, I stopped, and thought about what was happening. Today I have had some big challenges to deal with, including life-changing decisions which I'm now following through on; the to-do list had to be completed, it couldn't wait until next week because I'm back at work; the jam needed making before the fruit rotted away; and it's Friday. Fridays are supposed to allow me to be a bit more gentle with myself, instead of over-analysing, over-reaching, and doing too much at a time. No wonder I was feeling impatient.
I changed. I took a deep breath, and completely focused on those plum stones. I had over 3Ibs of plums to go through, which were checked carefully before placing back in the pan. I ignored the mess, I'd clean it later. I just concentrated exactly on the task in front of me. I began to enjoy it. A sense of fulfilment about completing the task filled me, and at the end, I had a taste of the fruits of my labour: not too sweet, slightly sharp, and with a hint of spice.
That pretty-much sums up my Friday!