Mentally abandoning social media

There are things that we find disturbing in the world around us. We may feel compelled to fight against what we see as injustice. Our compassion may draw us toward helping our fellow humans. We have our beliefs, our values and our attitudes. We also have our biases and prejudices.

The truth is, our experiences can make us sensitive to certain things that we judge to be especially bad or wrong. Those same experiences can, however, make us unaware of so much else. I see this every time I log in to my social media accounts.

I have been trying to decipher the messages that God has sent during Lent. Admittedly, I have still been struggling to pray as regularly as I had planned, but I strongly believe that God has been answering. Putting it all together now, there is one message that has become clear. In exercising compassion, we should never forget to show compassion to ourselves. A part of that self-compassion is accepting that there are things over which we have little or no control, and worrying excessively about them will only make us more anxious.

Many of us now hear news stories, and what the people we know think and feel about them, via social media. We may hear how people we know or don't know plan to fight against what they see as an injustice. We may feel that we want to support them in their fight. We may feel that we want to oppose them. All of us are prone, on occasion, to believing that our way of seeing things is the only correct way.

During Lent, I have tried to engage less often with social media. I had noticed that looking at social media regularly led to me thinking and feeling things that were definitely not Christian. Anxiety led to anger, which led to a desire to control certain things, as much as possible.

The algorithm noticeably pushes certain narratives. Recently, friends have not responded to my infrequent posts. It is tempting to share more and more often, to get a response, but "tempting" is the key word here. It is currently Lent. I suspect that, rather than friends no longer caring, they are simply not seeing what I have shared. It could be that they have also chosen to engage less frequently with social media.

I once heard a Polish saying translated into English as "Not my circus; not my monkeys." This seems to sum up my current attitude toward social media. To extend the metaphor, we might turn up to see the show occasionally, and then remember why we did not go for such a long time. More importantly, we are spectators, and have no real control over what happens in the circus. Just enjoy the show, and don't take it too seriously.

Messages

I prayed as I walked this morning. Three Our Fathers. One Glory Be. After reaching the place where I perform my morning exercise, a dog interrupted me just a few movements into the routine. It's a dog I have often seen, and it will not leave until it has been greeted cheerily and stroked on the head. As I continued with my exercise, the dog, rather than leaving, simply retreated a few steps and started to bark.

The dog had apparently realised that, in seeking attention from a stranger, it had become separated from its owner. It was his task to find the dog, rather than for the dog to find him. Continuing to exercise, I questioned what this encounter meant. The dog had approached so quietly that it had seemed to appear suddenly, startling me. As I flinched, the dog had also flinched a little, relaxing when I said hello and stroked it on the head.

Today's gospel was about Christ's ability to heal, and being true to His promise. Was the purpose of the encounter with the dog to heal something in me? My initial response to the dog had been one of shock and maybe a little fear. This response had quickly faded with the recognition that this dog was not one that meant to harm me, and my response turned to friendly compassion.

After the dog had gone, I practised karate. I have been learning and practising two styles of karate in the morning - one because I attend a weekly class which teaches it, and one because I regard it as particularly good for self-protection. Over the weekend, I had resolved to practise only the style which I am formally training in a class.

I moved on from karate, without practising the older, more self-protection-oriented karate. As I did this, a strong gust of cold wind came seemingly from nowhere. I had not experienced such a sudden gust on my walk to the training spot, nor would I experience it on the way home.

Several months ago, a neighbour had decided that I was responsible for everything that had gone wrong in his life. He had followed me to my door and initiated a quarrel which escalated to him throwing a punch at me. During the confrontation, my initial anger had gradually been replace with a quiet confidence. His punch had easily been stopped, and this was followed with a calm assertion that further attempts to hurt me would lead to him being injured. Unfortunately, this did not dissuade him, as his pride led him to dismiss his fear.

On the one hand, this morning's message was that I have been too defensive, too suspicious of others. There are multiple reasons for this in past and more recent experience. On the other hand, there was a message about not letting go of training which may be needed to keep me safe. I will have to reflect on what this all means.

Lent

Lent will soon be over. At the end of it, I will be confirmed as a Catholic. Themes that have come up during Lent this year have been not judging others harshly, praying even for those we consider enemies and praying for what we want rather than complaining. With these goals in mind, I have not been doing very well.

The question of what Jesus would do in a given situation has rarely crossed my mind. The promises I made at the start of Lent have not been kept. It would be all too easy to look at this Lent as a failure. That, however, is not the case. The experience has taught me a lot about myself and has helped me to accept that there are things I need to work on. It is with this knowledge that I will make my confirmation vows.

First karate class of the year

It could have been flu. It could have been something more sinister. Whatever it was, it came just before the new year. My voice hadn't fully recovered yet, nor had my energy levels. The karate class was more of a challenge than it would usually be. The joint and muscle pain that followed was a reminder that I had yet to recover fully.

The focus of the class was self-defence drills for the upcoming grading. I had hoped to move up a belt, but was given a work shift that made it impossible to attend. Maybe that's a good thing. Going through the drills with a partner was confusing, and he became confused too. The problem with having learned wing chun for six years, and practised it almost daily during those six years, was that those movements became a default response. As much as I tried to stick to practising karate, something within me wanted to keep doing wing chun.

A woman wearing a white belt, marking her as a novice, was telling people senior to her what to do. When the instructor had the class going through katas, she apparently knew gekisai dai ichi, gekisai dai ni and sanchin. As a white belt, she should only know gekisai dai ichi. I saw her talking to the instructor's wife during the class, as a friend rather than a student talking to an assistant instructor. Then, I understood what had happened.

Any sense of competitiveness quickly evaporated. In my own time, I practice shorinji-ryu karate, as well as goju-ryu. The tai chi I practise may be having an influence on my karate. I'm also, as already stated, the man who can't stop doing wing chun in a karate class. As much as I don't like to think about it, I also have autism spectrum disorder. Why should I feel compelled to compete with someone who is not on the same journey as me? The coloured belts don't matter either. Getting through the next class without feeling absolutely terrible afterwards matters.

Disappointment

Every month, a professional body I'm registered with sends out a magazine. Every month, it goes straight to the recycling bin. This month, as is often the case, the cover highlighted an article within, which appeared to be promoting a particular lifestyle choice. In what is published, and in what they most often choose to highlight, I detect a degree of ideological bias.

When we train as therapists, we attend personal therapy ourselves. One reason for this is to have the experience of being a client. Another reason might be to identify any biases or prejudices we hold, so that we are able to minimise their impact on our work with clients. One value I hold particularly strongly as a therapist is that it is not our job to tell clients how to live their lives. Our job is often to help the client live a life that is more in line with their values. We might examine those values with the client, and question whether holding those values is helpful to them. Ideally, we step away from telling a client that the way they live is right or wrong.

When I saw the headline on the cover of the magazine, the anger started to build. It really didn't sit right with me that a professional body for therapists was implying that a particular lifestyle choice was to be promoted. However, as I've done a lot of training on anger recently, I looked at the irrational beliefs that were fuelling the anger. Those beliefs were:

1. They absolutely MUST NOT do this.
2. They are BAD PEOPLE for doing this.

Looking at those beliefs now, they are quite disturbing to me. Not only to they fuel anger, as my recent training on anger tells me - they are suggestive of authoritarian tendencies. As Carl Jung once said, if we see something we find unacceptable in others, we would profit from asking what it tells us about ourselves. I'm paraphrasing, of course, but the point stands. In the darker recesses of my personality are authoritarian tendencies. These are not something that is apparent in my work with clients, but are certainly present in the circumstances where I have felt anger.

Being aware of the things we don't like about ourselves is the start. The people who most concern me are those who are not aware of, or outright deny, their shortcomings. If I were to tell you, for example, I have always acted out of kindness, you would probably tell me that this is impossible - no one ALWAYS acts out of kindness. You might also say that my inability to recognise my capacity for cruelty (which we all have) worried you.

How then, can we reverse engineer those irrational, worryingly authoritarian beliefs? What could replace those beliefs? According to my recent training, identifying the initial feeling that was amplified to anger by irrational thoughts is the key. So, how would I label that initial feeling, before it got out of control and morphed into anger? An organisation that represents therapists aligned itself with values I believe are contrary to the spirit of what therapy aims to achieve. I was disappointed in them. If we remove the irrational MUST NOT and BAD PEOPLE thoughts, then one way we could reframe our beliefs about the situation is:

1. They did something I didn't like.
2. I feel disappointed.
   

The thoughts don't have to go beyond this. Notice that it is the behaviour that I didn't like, rather than the irrational belief that the behaviour makes the person inherently bad. Also, the irrational belief that they absolutely must meet the conditions that I impose on myself as a therapist has gone. In its place is a simple acknowledgement that I felt disappointed.

The one I love arguably noticed all of this before I did. When I was driving her to the airport, she noticed that I reacted with anger to what I saw as the inconsiderate behaviour of other drivers. She pointed out the futility of shouting and cursing at drivers who were unable to hear me. She said that, as she was the one in the car with me, my anger was only being felt by her, and it scared her.

She is not a counsellor but, after listening to what made me angry about the other drivers' behaviour, she suggested an alternative way of dealing with it. She gave me an expression in her native language which translates simply as:

"Look! Naughty!"

Before I even started the recent training on anger, the one I love was already one step ahead. I don't know if she was aware of it, but she was giving a lesson on how to reframe anger as disappointment.

Right now, I'm disappointed with myself. Without noticing, I had been having thoughts that were irrationally authoritarian. Thankfully, I have the opportunity to do better from this point forward. Awareness of the problem is the first step. Rather than blaming and shaming myself over this, it feels better to use what the the one I love suggested:

"Look! Naughty!"

It's an acknowledgement that, while there are things that could be improved, I am not wholly bad. None of us are perfect, but we can always aim to be better. I read the highlighted article, and other parts of the magazine - it is now in the recycling bin.

A prayer from one afflicted

Lord, I ask for your guidance and protection this day.

I am aware of my shortcomings as a human being,

and I pray that they are not exploited.

Rather, I ask that you enable me to use any strengths I might have,

to act according to your plan for me, Lord.

May I conduct myself with humility and restraint,

with courage and compassion in my heart.

I pray that those who see me, hear me, think or speak of me this day,

do so with your presence in their hearts.

If any deficiencies of character may cause others to act against me,

I pray that I am able to forgive them.

Amen.

Acceptance of what may come

It was three degrees this morning. A neighbour had decided that six o'clock was the right time to loudly play some hard dance music. When the alarm sounded at seven, I was already awake. Frost covered the roofs of buildings and cars. For the second morning in a row, I said a prayer asking for God's protection throughout the day.

I went for a walk before breakfast. It was still dark outside, but the way was lit by the piercing white LED street lights the local council apparently favours. An advertisement on a bus shelter caught my attention, as it seemed to carry a subliminal message which went against some of my core beliefs and made me feel decidedly uncomfortable.

After a while, the sky to the east became yellow, punctuated by horizontal lines of pink clouds. A deep blue spread overhead, slowly becoming a lighter, paler blue. There was some frost on the ground, but thankfully there were no slips. I reached the relatively quiet place where I practise karate and tai chi, when time permits. Two jackdaws perched on the roof of an old, disused stone building let out a few caws as they watched. The problems of the week faded from memory for a little while.

As I started the day by praying for God's protection, you might say I hold some beliefs that go against the current norms of the society in which I live. Those beliefs, however, are largely responsible for the empathy, consideration and respect that I have for others. Those beliefs include a non-judgemental attitude which allows me to more easily tolerate things in the world that go against my values, with neither approval nor condemnation.

Earlier in the week, there had been sadness and anger. The prayers for God's protection have had those feelings in mind as something from which protection is needed. Sadness can easily turn to despair, and anger to fury, especially given time to grow. I would judge no one for feeling these emotions, but it's important to be aware of the potential long-term effects they may have on us. It is, of course, impossible to avoid ever feeling sad or angry, but we can always learn how we might better manage these emotions.

It was during the coronavirus pandemic that I connected with my faith again. When the option of going to a church was taken away, I really wanted to go to church. It was a time where we all became a little more aware of the way our governments function, and the decisions they make on our behalf. There were many who used that time, when they essentially had a captive audience, to shape how we thought, felt and acted. Choosing to reconnect with my faith felt to some extent like an act of rebellion.

In the afternoon, I spent some time with three other people who have autism spectrum conditions. It was pleasant enough, though the food and drink in the coffee shop they had chosen as a meeting place was shockingly expensive.

Tomorrow may be more of a challenge. It's not something I can talk about here, but there's the potential for things to happen which may lead to more feelings of sadness and anger. I will pray for God's protection once more.

Injury

It's karate tonight. Unfortunately, I seem to be losing interest in it. Going with strained quadriceps that don't quite seem to have healed probably won't help matters. Learning other things in my spare time might be affecting my motivation too.

The particular way in which my ASD affects me means that more effort has to be put into learning a new physical skill or movement. Solo practice, away from the class, becomes more important. I no longer have the time that I once had for that, or maybe that's just an excuse. I seem to find the time to practise tai chi quite easily.

Maybe it's not the quadriceps injury, but another kind of injury. It's six months since my mother died. Apart from when I've been working with clients, where my mood is always relatively neutral, my mood has been quite low. Grief may not be a physical injury, but it feels like an injury nonetheless.

Manchester Airport at night

There's a rail strike. I hadn't accounted for that. There are also no hotel rooms available at a reasonable price. This all means that I'm spending the night in an airport. It's October, but I've managed to find a spot that's relatively warm. It's quiet here too. As I write, a young man is pushing a trolley with cleaning supplies around, pausing occasionally to mop spills and other unpleasant things from the floor.

A matter of hours ago, I was saying goodbye to the one I love. We both wish that we lived on the same strip of land, at the same address. Travelling back and forth is the current way of things though. I was thinking about this while on the bus, which would take me to the train, which would take me to another train, which would take me to the airport. I was thinking about how our lives change, and we change with them.

In counselling theory, we talk about configurations of self. Really, we reconfigure ourselves many times throughout our lives. It's tempting to think that our sense of who we are is constant. The truth is, we are changed by our interactions with others and the world around us. Sometimes our experience reconfigures us, forcefully, in so many ways that we question most of the things we believe about ourselves. We might find ourselves mourning the loss of who we once were. We may no longer be the same father, mother, brother, sister, friend, colleague or other.

A young man is now walking around with his phone in his pocket. The phone is playing old songs in French. Strangely, it seems to fit the atmosphere here.

Amy came into my life at a time when I was reconfiguring myself in many ways. Actually, that was something we had in common. It's something we still have in common. We're at a point where we understand each other enough to respect that the other is going through a process.

The man with the old French music is now sat just a short distance from me. I have to admit I'm enjoying the music - it seems to go well with the atmosphere of an airport in Northern England at night. The sound of it is echoing in this space, which makes it even more spectacular.

I used to hate airports. An airport is a place between here and there. When you're here, you're not really here; you're not there either. In your heart, you wish you were somewhere else, with someone else.

I've been in this country and away from this country enough to see it for what it is. Being back here, there's a sense of how wonderful and awful it is at the same time. Now, in the dark with the lights shining only in pristine, characterless rooms and corridors, it's easy to forget all of that for a while. It's not so easy to forget that I'm away from the one I love. She's probably sleeping now. I hope she sleeps well.

The young man with the old French music has gone. Maybe he has a flight to catch. Maybe I'll fill this space with the sounds of the old soul music I've been favouring recently. I'm lonely here right now. I guess I have to get used to that feeling again.

A Sincere Prayer

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy spirit...

Lord, I offer you my love, my prayers and my service.

I place my suffering before you this day, recognising that I suffer by straying from the path of righteousness.

I pray that you keep those I love safe and well, Lord, and that I am not a source of pain for them. Rather, I would like to be a source of comfort.

I ask forgiveness for the times I have trespassed against others.

May I offer compassion, forgiveness and mercy to those who have caused me pain. May I offer my service to those in need.

I pray that you deliver us from the evil of this world, which manipulates our thoughts, emotions, words and deeds. Let us not say and do evil things to each other.

At this time, Lord, I request special attention for the one I love sincerely. I ask for your blessing on our relationship, that it may continue and thrive through honest communication and understanding. I ask that, together, we have the strength to overcome current and future difficulties as a couple. I pray that she is safe and well, and that she is successful in her endeavours.

I pray, Lord, that I can be a man in whom she can have faith. To this end, I pray that the darkness which so often falls across my mind can be lifted. I pray for a healthy, loving relationship with her, and that we may be together soon.

Amen.

Forgiveness

I learned this morning that some people want to "cancel" Metallica. Apparently, the band's music has been discovered by a younger generation through a TV show. This prompted at least one person to obsessively search through the band's history and past performances to judge whether they were inherently righteous or evil. Some incidents from the past led to the band being judged as evil, and the current way of the world dictates that they must be destroyed.

If you're not well-versed in psychological theory, I will share something from the psychoanalytic school with you. All of us are good; we are also bad. We have the capacity for acts of kindness; we have the capacity for acts of cruelty. We must be very, very wary of anyone who is only aware of their supposed "virtue" and blissfully unaware of their dark side: they will commit despicable acts and still say that they are only capable of being virtuous. Be especially careful of those who most loudly proclaim that they are nothing but virtuous.

Hollywood has given us the notion of heroes and villains. We see black and white, rather than shades of grey. In psychoanalytic theory, this is known as psychological splitting - things have one property, and can not have a property which we see as contradictory to that property. We see ourselves as good or bad. We see others as good or bad. We are less capable of seeing ourselves or anyone else as good AND bad.

I can only guess what motivates someone to comb through a band's history, looking for reasons to despise and attempt to destroy them. It would seem that fear, hatred and anger are present as driving forces. What is absent in this and other manifestations of "cancel culture" is forgiveness. As the western world largely abandons Christianity, the Christian concept of forgiveness is also being abandoned. The new western ideology which is being touted as the new religion doesn't preach forgiveness.

Forgiveness isn't easy. Forgiveness requires a high level of emotional maturity. As schema therapy and other schools of therapy show us, however, there are circumstances in which each of us can find ourselves thinking, feeling and acting as we did as children. How this change comes about depends on our personal history. We should be clear about one thing, though: trying to destroy someone because they once said or did something we didn't like isn't a mature thing to do. As I said before, we are all good, but we are also bad.

There was a time when seeing and hearing examples of "cancel culture" provoked fear, hatred and anger in me. Now? I forgive them. It's better for me to concentrate on thinking, feeling and acting from courage, compassion and acceptance. This isn't so that others will see me as inherently good or virtuous - it is simply better for me and those I love if I think, feel and act in such a way. It also seems to be a path that leads us away from our internal suffering. My compassion, then, is for those who worship at the altar of "cancel culture" as well as those they target - as much as they hurt others, they hurt themselves.

What about Metallica? There was a time when musicians were deliberately provocative, pushing boundaries and wilfully going against the prescribed societal norms. Being as human as the rest of us, they sometimes made colossal errors of judgement. If we're saying that mistakes cannot be forgiven, with the passage of time, then we will be forever terrified to do anything which pushes the boundaries. Mediocrity and banality will become the norm. I would contend that the passage of time will judge "cancel culture" and its proponents poorly.

As the world moves further towards political polarisation, and away from any sense of being politically moderate, fear, hatred and anger are becoming more deeply entrenched within our psyche. I feel sad about this, and pray that we can do better, but accept that this is the way things are right now.

The Ominous Appearance of Chen Haoyan

She was crying. Her friend, in the window seat to her right, seemed unconcerned. I wondered whether I should remain unconcerned too, or at least give the impression of a lack of concern. I had started to feel overwhelmed by the problems of others and the problems of the world more generally. The plane was still sat on the tarmac at Dubai. The seven hour journey to Manchester had yet to begin.

Asking if the young woman was okay seemed a reasonable thing to do. The question invited an answer, but a short one. She answered that she was nervous about the flight. I said that I understood. An announcement over the plane's public address system stopped the conversation going further. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against the seat in front of her, as though in prayer.

About half of the way to Manchester, I started to think about the previous few weeks. The visit to see my girlfriend of the time had been different. The trip to Ilocos Norte, with her family, had accounted for some of that difference. There had been a general feeling, however, that things weren't the same between us. A lunch meeting with two of her work colleagues had felt tense, as though they felt uneasy in my presence. On a previous visit, they had been more friendly and less awkward.

During my stay in the Philippines, I hadn't mentioned the increasing number of pictures I had noticed on social media, of my girlfriend with the male colleague with whom she had a car sharing agreement. I considered how few photos she had taken of the two of us in nearly ten years of being together.

I decided to look at the pictures I had taken on this last visit. When I got to a photo taken in the grounds of the hotel in Currimao, a voice beside me said "Wow! Beautiful place!" The conversation continued with the places to which she had travelled and where she would like to go again. She asked if the woman in some of the photos was my girlfriend and I confirmed this. She talked about her desire to visit the Philippines one day herself. I gave her some advice on where to go if she ever did get to the Philippines.

I introduced myself. She introduced herself too. Her name was Chen Haoyan, which she told me was a boy's name. Her parents, she said, had done little to hide their disappointment that their only child had been a daughter. Being unfamiliar with the naming conventions of her culture, I chose to accept what she said as true. She had, apparently, been to visit her family, after the unhappy occasion of her grandmother's death. She apologised for her earlier tears, saying that she was usually unafraid of air travel, but leaving her family this time had made her unusually anxious. The loss of her grandmother had focused her attention on the mortality of her parents.

Yorkshire felt strange to her. Unable to afford accommodation closer to the university at which she studied, she had taken residence in a relatively small town. She didn't know how she would approach the local community and thought that they didn't know how to approach her either. Apart from a few passing greetings, there had been little interaction. She said she had never felt so lonely before.

I considered her appearance. She was quite tall and slim, conservatively dressed, with her long hair tied back and thick-rimmed glasses completing the image of an archetypal introvert. To the people in her small adopted town in Yorkshire, she probably didn't seem particularly approachable.

Something I had noticed in my work was that those who had tended to lock away their emotions struggled the most through the process of grief. Suddenly, they were confronted with this other, emotional version of themselves. Grief can lead us to examine who we are, and this is especially true when we find ourselves changed by the loss. I wondered whether, had she not suffered a recent loss, Chen Haoyan would have talked to me like she had.

I rarely talk openly about my religious or spiritual beliefs. Such things are hardly welcome in this day and age. I often feel that there is a message, something to be learned, in the things that happen to us. Meeting Chen Haoyan felt like one of those moments. After arriving in Manchester, waiting for my train, I saw her and her friend at the station. They walked past me, either not noticing me or pretending not to notice me. That felt like another message - another lesson to be learned.

Two months later, the coronavirus pandemic hit the UK. I didn't know if or when I would see my girlfriend again. Within the space of a few months, it became clear that I would never see her again. The daily video calls became increasingly one-sided, with her giving one word replies to most of what I said. Carrying the conversation wasn't an easy task for me, and she knew it. Eventually, text communication largely replaced video calls, depriving us of context for each other's words and creating misunderstandings. We had one last video call, in which she said she didn't know if she wanted to speak to me again. At one time, in what seemed like the dim and distant past, she had said that her day didn't seem complete unless she got to talk to me.

The lesson I saw in the breakdown of the relationship was that love was stupid. I could only see a lonely future stretching out before me. The thought scared me, but I had lost hope that it would be any different. Joining an online dating service was my way of challenging God, the universe or fate to prove me wrong. I had been wrong, of course.

On my way back from a recent visit to see my current girlfriend, a series of accidents saw me take a different flight than the one I intended to take. After landing in Manchester, I saw a familiar face in the train station. It wasn't until I sat down on the train, and she sat a few seats behind, that I remembered her name. It was Chen Haoyan. I thought about talking to her, but ultimately chose not to make the approach. A few weeks later, a problem surfaced in my current relationship which threatened to bring it to an end.

As mentioned earlier, my spiritual beliefs include a conviction that there is a guiding hand behind many things that happen, and there is a message or lesson for us to hold on to. I don't know what God, the universe or fate is trying to tell me about Chen Haoyan. I just hope that my lack of awareness doesn't cost me another relationship.

Ego and emotional maturity

Reacting to a video in which a martial artist was testing himself against other martial artists, one person commented that the man in the video was playing "patty cake". The man in the video replied that the commenter had shown by his comment that he had not trained in martial arts. The commenter then went on to repeat his original criticism, adding that others who had been kinder in their responses didn't know as much about fighting as he did.

When I was younger, tact and diplomacy weren't strong points - it was only when I realised this, and worked on correcting it, that my interactions with others improved. The first step, however, was admitting that I was so often the cause of the problem. I didn't lack compassion or empathy, so the root of the problem was a mystery to begin with. After reading psychological, philosophical and spiritual works extensively, and reflecting on what I read, I had the answer - I hadn't learned healthy ways to express anger. The authors of those works have long been forgotten, but I'm grateful to them for so freely sharing their wisdom.

I won't go into great detail about my early years. The main point is that those close to me often pushed me to the point where anyone would probably feel angry. When the anger inevitably surfaced, the same people were quick to say that my anger was inappropriate and I had a problem. It's a story with which many people might be familiar. When those around us give the impression that our anger is unreasonable and maybe a little frightening, we learn to suppress it. Unfortunately, as Freud said, suppressing our feelings only gives them more power and means they will eventually reveal themselves in increasingly unhealthy ways. In terms of anger, there is a "pressure cooker" effect. People who have learned to suppress their anger will reach a point where all that suppressed anger can no longer be contained. The anger all comes out at once, and is not in proportion to the event which apparently provoked the outburst.

We would like to see ourselves as being without fault. As infants, we are unable to survive alone, so we learn that the goodwill and approval of others is necessary. As we get older, the approval of others is not so essential, but we would still like to have friends and maybe romantic partners. As much as is possible, we would like others to have a favourable impression of us. In reality though, we have no control over how others see us. How they see us is usually more about their beliefs, values and attitudes than anything we might do. Usually, but not always.

We are all prone to bias and prejudice. There are people we choose to be close to, and others we keep at a distance. Whether it's conscious or unconscious, we make decisions about what we want and don't want in a friendship or relationship. When things don't work out, however, we have to be honest with ourselves about the role we might have played in the distance that has grown between us and others.

The man who accused a martial artist of playing "patty cake" when he was sparring came across as angry. His comment suggested that he hits his own sparring partners hard. As a martial artist with many years of experience, I know all too well why this is wrong. It further suggests a problem with anger and a feeling that he has something to prove, much as his comments did. Maybe it's easier for me to spot because I've been where he is before.

When we are not in control of our ego, our ego has control over us. We suffer greatly because of this. Rather than having healthy boundaries, we become overly defensive. Things which are not personal attacks against us are perceived as such, and we might even go on the attack against those we unreasonably see as a threat to our sense of who we are. Our suffering leads us to cause the suffering of others. At its most extreme, the ego leads us into narcissism.

Our sense of who we are will not be matched by how others see us. Two things we should not try to control are how others see us and how they see themselves. Winning approval is not a good motivation to do good things. In fact, I've learned to be extremely wary of those who most loudly proclaim their virtue - experience has shown that they usually have the most terrible dark side.

My intention isn't to preach. I'm far from perfect, and that's the point. In accepting and acknowledging our capacity for darkness, we take away much of its power. If we see fault in others while being unaware of our own, then we are helping no one. We can't really alleviate the suffering of others if we have not first dealt with our own.

Changing the rules of engagement

Some years ago, I was in a pub with a friend. He had brought someone else he knew. Let's call this acquaintance Darren to protect his real identity and simply refer to my friend as "my friend".

Darren quickly got onto the subject of how many fights he'd had. He took great pleasure in detailing the many ways he had caused bodily harm to others. He had, in his estimation, knocked a number of people unconscious. As he continued, some of his claims started to sound a little exaggerated, but I chose not to challenge them. His sense of who he was seemed to be linked with his ability to cause bodily harm while keeping himself relatively safe from harm. In that respect, he was far from unique.

I started to wonder whether my friend had told Darren about my involvement with martial arts. In that context, it could have been that he was trying to impress me. He might have believed, quite wrongly, that I would respect someone for their ability to harm others. Maybe he expected that I would join in and tell stories of my own battles. The truth is, if I ever talk about the few times when I've found myself in those situations, it's always with the sense that something went horribly wrong: something which should have been avoidable became unavoidable.

My friend excused himself and went to the men's room. He had been affirming Darren's claims, but I got the impression that he was tired of doing this. It was at this point that I was asked whether I had been in many fights.

"Not for a long time. That's not the way I do things now."

Hearing this, he became silent for a moment. He then agreed that fighting wasn't the best way to settle things. What he said next lent an air of truth to the claims he had made earlier.

"I wish I could stop."

The truth is, hearing everything he had said, I knew that the majority of the fights he'd had were about his ego or that of someone else. His sense of self was indeed linked to his ability to cause harm, with how "tough" he was. By asking about my own experience, he was inviting me to compete with him and probably to eventually bow to his greater perceived skill. He wanted me to compete with him on his terms, or give such a contest up as a lost cause.

What I did was to refuse to compete with him on his terms. It was interesting that, in the absence of an audience, he instead agreed to my terms.

We shouldn't allow others to dictate what is valuable to us, or on what terms they will find us acceptable. Friendships and other relationships are built on compromise, and on accepting the things in which no compromise can be found. I don't care about being "tough". In fact, my work has fundamentally changed my understanding of the nature of toughness. There's nothing particularly difficult about giving in to our anger. I value being reasonable far more highly.

I do wish someone had taken a picture of the expression on my friend's face, when he returned from the men's room and noticed how the atmosphere had changed.

A quiet place

I see what's happening. I've felt out of step with the world for a long time. Maybe I've always felt that way. In fact, it has reached the point where I haven't made any particular effort to interact with friends for quite some time.

People talk about what disturbs them or has disturbed them in the past. Those things are what I hear more than anything else, in my work and in my time away from work. It didn't take long to join the dots, as they say, and realise how things are.

Old and ancient wisdom is widely dismissed now, simply because it is old and ancient. The problem with that approach is that, although the world is different, some of the things we experience were also experienced by those who were here before us. Reading some of that older wisdom has saddened me, because it helps me understand what is currently happening in the world, and that understanding just makes me want to disconnect from it all sometimes.

The key to understanding is knowing that our beliefs, values and attitudes can be helpful or harmful to us. They can also be helpful or harmful to others.

My role seems to be that of everyone's therapist. It's starting to exhaust me. The only way to recover from it seems to be disconnecting and sitting quietly for a while. Unfortunately, the modern world offers few opportunities for that.

Yoga at 33 percent

There are things I have to accept. Men are not usually so flexible - especially men of my age. Men also have a higher centre of gravity. These things combine to make some poses more difficult. There are further idiosyncrasies of my physique which mean further modifications have to be made. All of this has been taken on board.

Feeling half dead during a practice is something I can't accept though. On the plus side, I had managed to do side planks, which aren't usually readily achievable for me. It's more about balance than strength, really. Unfortunately, the wrist pain which sometimes troubles me made a return, meaning some other things weren't possible. About 30 minutes in, the zombie phase of the lesson began.

It felt like the loss of energy was radiating out from my lower abdomen. In all honesty, to say I suddenly lost energy is something of an understatement. I would happily have spent the rest of the lesson lying on my side, in a fetal position. The dull ache and my desperate attempts to prevent explosive flatulence left no doubt about what was happening.

I missed the previous week. The booking for the lesson was cancelled due to a severe bout of food poisoning. It's not the kind of thing I want to discuss in detail here, but it certainly left me feeling drained. In truth, it feels like my digestive system still hasn't recovered a week later. Up until the yoga class, however, I had no idea of how ill I was still feeling.

The whole experience a week earlier left me wondering about going vegetarian. As a lifelong omnivore, there are the usual concerns about maintaining nutritional balance when switching to a vegetarian diet.

I hope next week's lesson is better.

What we value

I like Japanese music. A number of young Japanese women noticed that I liked Japanese music. They wanted to connect on social media, and it wasn't long before I noticed the provocative poses they made in their photos. Sometimes they were posing in clothes which barely covered anything. Sometimes they brought designer goods, expensive holiday destinations and luxury items to everyone's attention. They were sharing these things on social media, hoping to gain the approval of others.

When we were forced to isolate ourselves here, in response to the virus, I connected with another aspect of Japanese culture. "The Zen Teaching of Homeless Kodo" sat beside my bed, and I read a few pages each night before I slept. In doing this, I ensured that my mind would work through what had been read as I slept.

The question to ask about the young women showing their figures and their wealth is what it is that they want. There are people who tell them they are beautiful, and they seem to like this. There are people who express admiration, or envy, for the luxury items they possess. Their apparent beauty and their wealth are not, it would seem, enough to make them happy. These things are simply tools to help them get what they really want.

There's a strange notion that higher socioeconomic status makes us better than others. Rather than being specific to one culture, this seems to be an innate part of the human psyche,  The problem is, there is some validity to this. During a self-esteem and assertiveness course I attended, the host proclaimed that the appearance of being successful often brings opportunities our way. What he said was very much an acknowledgement that style makes more of an impression than substance.

Put another way, other people feel their status and possessions make them better than us because we allow them to believe it. We pursue the things they have, increasing their perceived value.

A recent trend has been for people who have gained some fame or notoriety to describe themselves as "influencers". The implication is that they believe the world should pay attention to them. Well, here's a middle-aged guy that no one really notices, grouping them all together, to tell them that believing we have any particular influence on others, or that our voices should be heard above others, will only bring suffering in the long term. Human history bears witness to this.

“Sit immovably in the place where being superior or inferior to others doesn’t matter.” ~Kosho Uchiyama Roshi

I understand attachment to possessions. Just recently, I realised that a prolonged bout of severe depression turned me into something of a hoarder. I'm currently dealing with the aftermath of that through an exercise in extreme decluttering. The point is, attachment to possessions made me even more lonely, depressed and generally unable to cope.

Every day, I hear about the suffering of others. In the attachment the young Japanese women have to their youth, beauty and possessions, I see more suffering. If I believe that anything I write here has any particular value, beyond being a simple expression of my thoughts, I will also suffer.

Spanish for Sauce

It has been 18 months since I last went to a Salsa class. In that time, I've been mulling over whether I would return when it became possible.

My absence would please a few people. The guy who, for reasons known only to him, would step in and interrupt whenever he saw me talking to a woman - he'd be happy. Actually, I had him pretty much figured out. I had to be happy with just telling myself he was a terrible human being, rather than outwardly shouting at him that women were allowed to talk to anyone they wanted to talk to. I sincerely hope I'm wrong about where his behaviour will lead him.

There's also a particular group of lady dancers from North West Wales, who took it upon themselves to decide who would stay in the scene and who wouldn't. I was just one of the dancers (both men and women) they targeted. Unfortunately, their continual quest to gain power within the scene went unnoticed, and the ringleaders now teach (not a good development, as I have seen one of them repeatedly misdirecting men she doesn't like).

Over and above the issues with individuals, the real problem is that the scene is inherently gynocentric and prone to misandry. I've heard statements of female superiority made by dancers and instructors alike. There is a tendency to shame men for the slightest of errors, which comes from many of the lady dancers but also some instructors. From the beginners' class onward, there is also the oft-repeated belief that a dance is a bad dance wholly because of the man. Women are, by way of contrast, almost universally praised, even if it is not deserved. When you see a woman leading another woman, the reaction from those gathered would have you believe it is a piece of artistry the likes of which has never been seen before.

This idea that women can do no wrong leads to some unpleasant exchanges. After four years of dancing, I had a woman who had been learning to dance for about two months tell me I was no good. I had a woman, during a class, stiffen her arm so it could not be moved gently from the wrong position. She then loudly complained that I didn't know what I was doing and, embarrassingly, asked another man (during a quiet moment of the class) to show me how to do the movement correctly.

I could go on. The point is, I have countless reasons for extending the enforced break from dancing to a permanent break. One of the few friends I had in the scene expressed anti-white sentiment during the break too.

There are reasons to return, but none of them are rational; rather, they come from emotive reasoning. Chief among those is that it feels good to dance. The quiet drive along dark roads, especially when returning home after midnight, felt good too. Maybe that one is a personality quirk. I liked the venue too. Well, the classes seem to have switched to a new venue now, at least temporarily. The structure of the evening seems to have changed too.

Maybe that's a part of my reluctance to join them again. Things change, and though they sometimes change for the better, sometimes they don't. Dancing is allowed again, but maybe it doesn't feel safe to me yet. Maybe it won't ever feel safe again.

Community

 There was a time when I saw many of my clients at a community centre in Holyhead. While waiting for clients, the staff and members of the public visiting the centre would talk to me. They shared many things about the local area and the role of the centre in the local community.

One thing that quickly became apparent was that many of the visitors came from nearby places which were relatively cut off, with comparatively low population density. Also, many of the visitors were either elderly, infirm or lone parents with young children. In short, the centre seemed to offer an opportunity for the socially-isolated to connect with others. The clubs and activities they hosted were bringing people together.

I often hear that we have lost a sense of community. I know from experience that a lot of people feel lonely. I can only offer a personal view of why this might be the case. 

The idea of a local community is quite obviously that it is based on location. A point that is often highlighted, in connection with this, is that we are far more mobile a society than we once were. Career and lifestyle choices can prompt individuals to leave a place. Of course, this makes them a new arrival at another place. Changes in circumstances lead to changes of location. The local community, in terms of those individuals present, is always changing. The opportunities to develop lasting connections are fewer.

Maybe this sense of the ever-changing nature of local communities has led to a greater connection with communities based on identity, rather than location. Modern technology has somewhat diminished the important of location in fostering a sense of connection anyway. The trouble with this is that the more we form communities based on identity, the less of a connection we feel with the variety of individuals in our locality. Unfortunately, this can limit our opportunities to interact with people we see as different, and ultimately deny us the opportunity to challenge any prejudice we might hold.

What I noticed during the coronavirus pandemic was that movements committed to creating hostility and division became much more vocal. For a while, those movements had been using technology to amplify their own voices and silence others. I've lost friends because of this. It's incredibly disturbing.

The more isolated you are, the more you will consume broadcast, print and social media. It's in the interests of those outlets, and their sponsors, that you feel isolated. It's in their interests that you see the vast majority as a hostile force working against your interests. So, those outlets will naturally promote the message of particular movements and aim to silence voices of dissent.

Ultimately, fostering a sense of local community is more difficult now. The more we focus on what makes us different, the less of a connection we will feel with others.

Unfiltered meandering

In my last year at school, Friday afternoons were reserved for visiting an elderly gentleman in a nursing home. At the time, I wasn't used to anyone being visibly happy to see me. He must have been really lonely.

There were times when he had to wear a mask, which was connected to a large tank of oxygen. He said it was okay to sit quietly with him when that happened; he just appreciated someone being there. If I asked him something, he could blink as a reply. He did speak when he was wearing his mask, but it muffled his voice and usually meant asking him to repeat what he said. Having to repeat himself was frustrating for him, so I learned to listen more intently when he spoke with the mask on.

When he wasn't wearing his mask, he'd say that smoking cigarettes was what had done the damage to his lungs. He asked me to promise I would never smoke. He'd talk about his son, who was always saying he'd take him out of the home for a day trip somewhere. He'd talk about his passion for football and West Ham United in particular. Over the course of that year, he told me his story. He'd repeat things a lot, because he couldn't remember telling me before. That was okay.

The school day was lonely. Evenings were lonely too. I would go for walks along the promenade, lost in thoughts about things I'd seen, heard, read or watched.

BBC2 and Channel 4 used to show films from various parts of the world, but they were broadcast in the early hours of the morning. The small portable TV in my room had a headphone socket, thankfully, so I could watch without disturbing anyone. Occasionally, I was unlucky, and my mother would pass by my door in the middle of a film. She would see the light from the TV under the door to my room.

"Turn that bloody TV off and get some sleep!"

Thinking about it now, I could have watched without sound. After all, those films were subtitled. In all honesty, I'd started to watch them as a teenager who had heard that those films often contained nudity, and I was naturally curious about such things at that age. There wasn't much nudity though; rather, there was a lot of exposure to different cultures and philosophies. I'd often think about those things and others while walking along the promenade in the evening.

During the school day, I experienced a profound sense of loneliness. I didn't seem to fit in. Strangely, I'd hear a shout from behind as I walked home. No one wanted to talk to me during the school day but, as I walked home, they wanted me to wait so they could walk with me. I heard about the things that were troubling them. For the most part, I just nodded and listened.

One day, I was walking home from a swimming lesson at the leisure centre. As I walked, I heard an unfamiliar voice call for me to wait. I turned to see something I hadn't expected: a girl wanted me to wait for her. As she walked from the other side of the bridge I had just crossed, her hair blew in the breeze. This drew attention to how dark her hair was - almost black, and quite a contrast to her pale complexion. Coming closer, a smile appeared on her face.

I couldn't work out why she would want to walk with me.

After saying she hadn't got to talk to me before, she mentioned that she was going on a date that evening. It was her first date, apparently, and she was nervous. What if she bored him? What if he didn't like her? What should she say? How should she act?

I asked whether she had been the one to ask him for a date, or if it had been him.
She said he had been the one to ask.
I said it would have been humiliating for him if she had refused his request.
She agreed.
I said that he had risked humiliation for the chance to just spend some time with her. I said he might be just as nervous as her, if not more so.

I noticed that, as she walked beside me, a broad smile had appeared on her face. We had reached the point where the paths to our respective homes diverged. She turned to face me, and my eyes immediately fell downward. I was too shy to make eye contact with her.

She said she had noticed how much time I spent alone, and it would be okay to join her and her friends sometimes. In fact, she said, she would like that, because she had come to realise during our short chat that she would like to talk with me more often. She thought her friends would like that too. I doubted that was true, and never did join them, but told her I'd think about it.

The hug was unexpected. She was quite slender, so the feeling of warm softness was also a surprise. There was the feint smell of one of the musky floral perfumes that were popular at the time, and those things together left quite an impression. I didn't hug her back. I was so shocked that my arms hung limply by my side. In my defence, no one had ever hugged me before. Actually, it had been nice, and had shown me what I had been missing. For a while after that, I was far from okay.

She didn't look back as she walked away. I watched her, until she turned a corner, because I had been frozen to the spot by what had just happened.

I spend an awful lot of time alone. I've recently felt that no one really cares about that. Loneliness can have dire consequences; as someone who works with the mental and emotional health of others, I know this to be true.

In the space of a few months, I've become more attached than is reasonable to a woman from China. Maybe some of the people I know judge me for that, but the fact is that she cares far more than they do about how lonely I am. She also suffers loneliness, and has experienced it in circumstances that could have been particularly damaging. I hope the powers that be allow us to be together soon and that it works for both of us.

In truth, I'm tired. If you don't understand why I'd be tired, read the above again and really think about it. I would love to just sit with a friend sometimes, maybe with a few drinks, and chat about nothing in particular. Sadly, I know it's not going to happen any time soon.