Permission

What happens if we surrender to our current situation, giving ourselves permission to be and feel, unconstrained by societal expectations of succeeding, healing or even coping. What if we stop striving and permit ourselves to feel sad, overwhelmed or ill, heeding the body's call to acknowledge legitimate feelings as a means to process them.

What if we radically accept ourselves in whatever form we take in whichever moment. Even if that is old, tired or grey. What if society and economics has it wrong and we are still valid, vibrant and beautiful in all of our states, young, old, unemployed, infertile.

What if we reframe? 

Illness as an opportunity to rest and reassess lifestyle choices.

Tiredness as a call to stop.

Grief as a time to process.

Age as a blessing, one of wisdom and beauty. Wrinkles finely woven into the tapestries of the skin as visible etchings of emotions well explored: a life experienced in all of it's forms. 

What if everything is OK. All feelings are OK. Understanding that it is appropriate to feel and express anger or sorrow. And what if we teach the next generation not to swallow their pride, dry their tears and curb their anger. What if we encourage healthy expression and acknowledgement of the full range of human emotion?

These feelings serve us - and yet we have compartmentalised them into categories of acceptable and unacceptable, good and bad. If we want to suppress, succumbing to the body's internalised rage later, then this is surely the way to go. If however we are prepared to sit in the fury, the disappointment, the gut wrenching pain as well as the joy, the relief, the vibrancy, then what? We begin to process life as it happens, experience it in technicolour. Our sentient bandwidths, our capacities, grow. The lows may be lower but the highs are higher. We become blessed to feel EVERYTHING. We stop numbing, suppressing and repressing feelings which we have named as unhelpful, impolite, ugly and painful. What a gift this is to access and express the full range of emotion - of energy in motion. And we have a CHOICE. We can CHOOSE to feel but it takes courage. To sit in the uncomfortable. To weep, shake, rock, and wail. To feel humbled and brought to our knees. To face the fear of loss or abandonment. Brandon bays teaches, as do many others, that if we sit with our feelings for long enough we will come always to a place of love; a blinding, all-encompassing love which holds us and releases us from fear. Which brings faith, strength and calm. And what if we can only access this place of bliss on Earth by allowing and exploring ALL of those other emotions?

I have become acutely aware of my knee-jerk response to deny certain feelings, the overwhelm they bring, the desire to numb them out, drown them out, suppress them, shut them down, shut them up, turn to alcohol, loud music, mindless television in an effort to shhhhh, quieten, ignore these angry and hurt children that reside within and want nothing more than to be seen, heard and comforted. I am starting to sit quietly and listen. Awareness is everything and when we truly tune in, we begin to understand the damaging stories we tell ourselves when an uncomfortable emotion tears through the rolodex, pulling up filed beliefs which we have created to protect us from trauma. Quietly and without judgment I am becoming able to tell myself it's OK. It's OK to feel this way, to challenge my belief system and to let go of limiting ideas about what this emotion is teaching me. Choosing not to sink into those comfortable, subconscious grooves of association is where liberation lies. Instead, healing comes from quietly trusting, surrendering, allowing, listening, believing and loving the self unconditionally. Without doubt it is one of the most challenging life lessons I have invited. But change is coming fast; within and without. 

This form of healing is every bit as important as juicing, daily coffee enemas, healthy eating and exercise. I would go as far as to say that this is the real healing. Lately when I meditate I can actually feel my cells cleansing; my microbiome shifting; my energy field growing. It's exciting and a not a little scary - a new me, a transition, shedding old, redundant beliefs about who I am. 

We are here to experience not achieve. Let's immerse ourselves fully into the opportunity of life. 

Boundaries

Many speak of the cancer person's need to please others. Gabor Mate says these are "people who don't know how to say no, people who are rigid and compulsive, perfectionistic, expecting themselves to be perfect in everything, people who don't know how to express their experience of anger in a healthy way, people who compulsively and automatically take care of others and don't think of their own needs." This resonates for me. I believe that this inability to create healthy boundaries is a self protection mechanism and comes from a place of a lack of self worth and/or self love. Even Mate says that his response to a world in which he felt unwanted was to create for himself a role of being needed. 

Our behavioural patterns are entrenched in ways which we believe will keep us safe, loved and wanted. This can mean putting the needs of others first in an attempt to feel valued. For me it translates to a lack of boundaries, co-dependance and an inability to advocate for myself. I acknowledge that this had value at some point in my life but it is time to reassess these deep and comfortable grooves which no longer serve me. There is yet a new way of being. 

Luckily my kids are adept at boundaries - lord knows where they learned this skill, but I am grateful that they are prepared to teach me. I listen in awe as they thoughtfully and gently tell me 'no'. And I am amazed that although initially the surprise of it hurts, ultimately it increases my respect and admiration for them. It excites me.

Beyond my children, the sea is my teacher. Shortly after the breakdown of my marriage I started cold water swimming. Sea swimming in early May in the UK is a revelation. As someone who has previously rejected the pebbly shores of the East Sussex coastline, hankering instead for hot white sandy beaches of Australia, Thailand, Cuba, Mexico, hell, anywhere but here, sea swimming is teaching me lessons in presence, grounding and gratitude that I didn't know I needed. The sea holds me, shocks me, rocks me. I can have no expectations of her. She will be what she is and I will love her for it. At a time when I feel far from unconditionally loved, this is a gentle reminder that we can be whatever we are and still be loveable. Regardless of whether her tides are calm or wild she embraces me, defibrillating me back into my body like nothing else. With every swim she connects me to this planet in a way that reminds me that I am home. 

My first photos of the sea after I had begun this new habit of immersion reflected my confusion. They were stark, ugly, unromantic. But slowly, slowly they are revealing that I am falling in love. My lens has changed. I am fascinated by the pebbles and their geological secrets. I am learning the vocabulary of the sea, revelling in floating in the slack, the fret and the spume. The ocean is revealing her treasure along the strand line: sharks purses, hag stones and sea glass. I am learning about the brine loving plants that inhabit the shoreline and am doing regular beach cleans in gratitude. The sea is always there, but she is not always approachable. Sometimes her ferocity would hurt me. She reminds me of my boundaries - that I am responsible for keeping myself safe. And that is the purpose of healthy boundaries. They protect us. They allow us to go as far as we feel able to. And they are ours. No-one can impose them upon us. And they must be respected.

I feel stronger, leaner and healthier for this new habit, and it has surprising health benefits. Cold water therapy, as purported by the incredible 'Ice Man' Wim Hof, can improve circulation, stimulate the immune system, reduce chronic inflammation and even help to support metabolism through an increase in brown fat, which helps to regulate thyroid hormones. I am planning to gently wean off my thyroid supplements which are expensive and unethical.

A surprisingly beautiful side effect of cold water swimming has been finding a community of women. Women who rescue me figuratively and literally. Who listen and make me laugh. Who are equally held by the sea. I am healing and growing more resilient one swim at a time - learning about boundaries is a beautiful side effect.