I don't often meditate. When I do, I remember why it is such a useful activity. Focusing on the present, strange as it may sound, puts the past and the future into context. In that state, being fully present in the present, as it were, it is possible to have moments of great insight. One such moment of insight was the realisation that we spend so much time focusing on what is wrong with our lives, or how to improve our situation, that we miss all the things that are right.
Maybe the self help industry has taught us to never be satisfied, to always strive for better, and to correct every perceivable problem we judge ourselves to have. It's certainly a good way to sell books.
When I was a child, my brother and I attended a judo class at the community centre down the road from where we lived. Actually, we attended TWO judo classes at the community centre down the road from where we lived.
Staying on the mat for the period between the children's class and the adults' class, we somehow managed to stay and get two classes for the price of one. That time between classes gave us an empty mat, on which to practise breaking our fall, groundwork and generally rolling around. All that space to run around indoors, to two kids who had spent most of their lives living in the Victorian terraced houses of Chadderton, was heaven.
For many reasons, it was a time of great change for our family, and most of it was not good. I won't go into the reasons here, but we had to adapt quickly to everything changing around us. Looking back, I sometimes wonder how we got through those challenging times. It's fashionable to call it "mindfulness" nowadays, but it is ably demonstrated by my brother and I rolling around that mat as children.
If you are always carrying your worries around with you, you may be depriving yourself of peak experiences, as Abraham Maslow would call them. There will always be something to worry about. Always. It may be a tiny worry or one so big that it overwhelms you. Having that worry cast its shadow over you twenty four hours a day is tiring and, if you let it, will affect other areas of your life.
Sometimes, you just have to roll around the mat. You have to be fully absorbed in actively enjoying yourself. Whatever challenges you face in your life, the ability to put them on hold and just enjoy those peak experiences, or appreciate that there is so much good in your life as well, is likely to determine how well you are able to cope. If you feel that your life is all work and no play, yet you do nothing about it, maybe it is time you did.
Sunday, 19 January 2014
Monday, 21 October 2013
The need for approval
I'm older now. I've reached the age where I look at the younger generation and realise that I don't fully understand them. Yes, it is true that I was once that age myself, though it was in another time. As much as I resist the thought, the world around us has not really changed very much; I am the one who has changed.
I've seen many commentators label the current generation of teenagers and twenty-somethings as "the me generation", because they are apparently self-absorbed and use new technologies to take "selfies" (narcissistic photos of self) and post them on the internet for all to see. What we must question, however, is whether this is a change from how previous generations would have acted.
Yes, I find the focus on image as distasteful as anyone, and I blame the broadcast and print media for the current obsession with image. In its most damaging form, it has invaded the music industry: a business which thrives on capturing the youth market. At the same time, I know that I, and friends of my generation, would have been just as keen to post "selfies" at a similar age, if the technology had been so developed. What has changed is that we no longer feel the need.
I remember the transition from childhood to being an adult clearly. There was an almost constant need for approval, to be told that I was doing things right on the way to becoming a young adult. Conversely, there was the need to rebel against the previous generation and do things my own way, but that's a whole other story.
Now, I see the damage that was wrought by that need for approval, and I feel a great deal of sympathy for those who still seek that approval. If there is one piece of wisdom I have gained from being older (and I hoped there would be at least one), it is simply that winning the approval of everyone you come into contact with is impossible, and it is not in anyone's interests to seek universal approval. Our self-esteem takes a battering in the process, and we hide who we truly are in order to mould ourselves to some idealised "acceptable" persona which we wear as a disguise. This, in turn, leads to unhappiness, and the feeling that the person we are inside must never be shown, unless we wish to be ridiculed or rejected.
We are seeing another generation who are doing all they can to "fit in" with their peers, in their attempts to establish an identity that is deemed acceptable. The familiar pattern of liking the same music, films, TV programmes and celebrities as their friends, regardless of their actual thoughts and feelings on these subjects, plays out once again. Later in life, they may look back and realise they actually had little in common with the friends of their youth, and should have sought friends who accepted them for who they were, no matter how "different" they were.
Sadly, I was always the nerdy kid: the one who never quite "fitted in". As a result, I had few friends. No matter how much I tried to integrate, I found myself on the fringes. To me, this says I remained individual enough to be unacceptable to those who chose conformity.
So, if there is one piece of wisdom I would pass on to the young, it would be to stop seeking approval. Look at those who have gained widespread respect throughout history, and you will see that they were non-conformists, who challenged the accepted views of their time. Be yourself, and force the world to accept you for who you are. It is impossible to please everyone.
I've seen many commentators label the current generation of teenagers and twenty-somethings as "the me generation", because they are apparently self-absorbed and use new technologies to take "selfies" (narcissistic photos of self) and post them on the internet for all to see. What we must question, however, is whether this is a change from how previous generations would have acted.
Yes, I find the focus on image as distasteful as anyone, and I blame the broadcast and print media for the current obsession with image. In its most damaging form, it has invaded the music industry: a business which thrives on capturing the youth market. At the same time, I know that I, and friends of my generation, would have been just as keen to post "selfies" at a similar age, if the technology had been so developed. What has changed is that we no longer feel the need.
I remember the transition from childhood to being an adult clearly. There was an almost constant need for approval, to be told that I was doing things right on the way to becoming a young adult. Conversely, there was the need to rebel against the previous generation and do things my own way, but that's a whole other story.
Now, I see the damage that was wrought by that need for approval, and I feel a great deal of sympathy for those who still seek that approval. If there is one piece of wisdom I have gained from being older (and I hoped there would be at least one), it is simply that winning the approval of everyone you come into contact with is impossible, and it is not in anyone's interests to seek universal approval. Our self-esteem takes a battering in the process, and we hide who we truly are in order to mould ourselves to some idealised "acceptable" persona which we wear as a disguise. This, in turn, leads to unhappiness, and the feeling that the person we are inside must never be shown, unless we wish to be ridiculed or rejected.
We are seeing another generation who are doing all they can to "fit in" with their peers, in their attempts to establish an identity that is deemed acceptable. The familiar pattern of liking the same music, films, TV programmes and celebrities as their friends, regardless of their actual thoughts and feelings on these subjects, plays out once again. Later in life, they may look back and realise they actually had little in common with the friends of their youth, and should have sought friends who accepted them for who they were, no matter how "different" they were.
Sadly, I was always the nerdy kid: the one who never quite "fitted in". As a result, I had few friends. No matter how much I tried to integrate, I found myself on the fringes. To me, this says I remained individual enough to be unacceptable to those who chose conformity.
So, if there is one piece of wisdom I would pass on to the young, it would be to stop seeking approval. Look at those who have gained widespread respect throughout history, and you will see that they were non-conformists, who challenged the accepted views of their time. Be yourself, and force the world to accept you for who you are. It is impossible to please everyone.
Thursday, 22 August 2013
Relax. It's only a training drill.
This week, I have been questioning whether I am suited to martial arts training. During the Wing Chun class, I was useless at Chi Sau. Me being rubbish during Chi Sau is not a surprise: it is a weak area of my Wing Chun. The question it raises is how I can be good at free fighting, when I am shockingly bad during a training drill.
I recently added Eskrima to my martial arts repertoire, and the class has been useful in a few ways. First and foremost, I get to test my three years' Wing Chun training against another art. It also gives me the chance to think about weapons, and how I will deal with weapons in a combat situation. Sometimes, though, it is useful in ways that could not have been predicted.
The Eskrima instructor was going through a flow drill with me, when he stopped and said that training with me was like coming up against a wall. In both Eskrima and Wing Chun, there is a relaxed flow to movements, so tension is counter productive during any training drill. In short, I need to relax during flow drills and during Chi Sau.
It's funny how your background in martial arts affects the way you fight. Like a lot of British children at the time, I started with Judo and, being small for my age, had to use a lot of strength to perform throws and overcome some opponents. When the school bullies took their chances, again it was strength that I used to avoid becoming a victim. To be fair, Judo had taught me nothing about how to punch, and I did not have much time to read the boxing manuals in my local library: I picked up what I could, but my modus operandi became hitting as hard as possible, punctuated by brief spells of the grappling I had learned. It was all about using what little strength I had. It didn't help that I was a particularly placid child, so fighting only really happened when I was already angry, meaning adrenaline played its part. Picture a young boy getting through a fight due to sheer determination, and you have the idea.
Years later, I came to Japanese Jujitsu. Once more, I found myself using my strength, only this time I had become something of a man-mountain (I weighed 230lbs/104kg at the time). Lifting my training partners off their feet, slamming them into the ground, putting on a powerful lock or choke hold all came too easily to me. My technique may not have been the best, but I could simply power my way through. It all became too clear to me during my white belt grading: my training partner was in a position where he could not tap out a submission, so he screamed at me that I was about to rip his arms out of their sockets. I felt strong, I felt powerful, but I didn't feel good about it. I realised that, rather than learning effective technique, I was using brute force as a substitute.
If you are not familiar with psychology, you may not have heard of a programmed conditioned response. In essence, a programmed conditioned response is a learned behaviour that is triggered by certain external stimuli. In my case, the response to a perceived physical threat, or anything that resembles a physical threat, is to keep it at bay using force. When training against people who know Wing Chun, or Eskrima, it is not good. It speaks well of my skill level that I can often recover, but the strength which served to keep me safe in my younger years can now be used against me.
Let's also consider self defence. If my conditioned response is to load my system with adrenaline and blast through an adversary, I will have a hard time claiming I used reasonable force. Worse, a reliance on strength quickly unravels when you are up against someone stronger, and there is always someone stronger.
So, maybe learning to relax will mean I actually get better with Chi Sau. Essentially, I must change my reaction to training drills. The irony is that I must undertake a course of strength training, because I am somewhat out of shape right now.
I recently added Eskrima to my martial arts repertoire, and the class has been useful in a few ways. First and foremost, I get to test my three years' Wing Chun training against another art. It also gives me the chance to think about weapons, and how I will deal with weapons in a combat situation. Sometimes, though, it is useful in ways that could not have been predicted.
The Eskrima instructor was going through a flow drill with me, when he stopped and said that training with me was like coming up against a wall. In both Eskrima and Wing Chun, there is a relaxed flow to movements, so tension is counter productive during any training drill. In short, I need to relax during flow drills and during Chi Sau.
It's funny how your background in martial arts affects the way you fight. Like a lot of British children at the time, I started with Judo and, being small for my age, had to use a lot of strength to perform throws and overcome some opponents. When the school bullies took their chances, again it was strength that I used to avoid becoming a victim. To be fair, Judo had taught me nothing about how to punch, and I did not have much time to read the boxing manuals in my local library: I picked up what I could, but my modus operandi became hitting as hard as possible, punctuated by brief spells of the grappling I had learned. It was all about using what little strength I had. It didn't help that I was a particularly placid child, so fighting only really happened when I was already angry, meaning adrenaline played its part. Picture a young boy getting through a fight due to sheer determination, and you have the idea.
Years later, I came to Japanese Jujitsu. Once more, I found myself using my strength, only this time I had become something of a man-mountain (I weighed 230lbs/104kg at the time). Lifting my training partners off their feet, slamming them into the ground, putting on a powerful lock or choke hold all came too easily to me. My technique may not have been the best, but I could simply power my way through. It all became too clear to me during my white belt grading: my training partner was in a position where he could not tap out a submission, so he screamed at me that I was about to rip his arms out of their sockets. I felt strong, I felt powerful, but I didn't feel good about it. I realised that, rather than learning effective technique, I was using brute force as a substitute.
If you are not familiar with psychology, you may not have heard of a programmed conditioned response. In essence, a programmed conditioned response is a learned behaviour that is triggered by certain external stimuli. In my case, the response to a perceived physical threat, or anything that resembles a physical threat, is to keep it at bay using force. When training against people who know Wing Chun, or Eskrima, it is not good. It speaks well of my skill level that I can often recover, but the strength which served to keep me safe in my younger years can now be used against me.
Let's also consider self defence. If my conditioned response is to load my system with adrenaline and blast through an adversary, I will have a hard time claiming I used reasonable force. Worse, a reliance on strength quickly unravels when you are up against someone stronger, and there is always someone stronger.
So, maybe learning to relax will mean I actually get better with Chi Sau. Essentially, I must change my reaction to training drills. The irony is that I must undertake a course of strength training, because I am somewhat out of shape right now.
Wednesday, 14 August 2013
The Night
Charles Dickens, in a piece with the title Night Walks, describes being out in London when most people are sleeping. It's one of my favourite pieces of writing: a fact which is surprising when you realise I am not a fan of Dickens' other work.
This part of the day is the most difficult for me. It seems like the whole world is asleep, and all its bars and restaurants are closed. At times, the overpowering sense of loneliness and isolation, which is the curse of the insomniac, is almost too much to endure. The darkness envelops all, only to be chased away by the dreariness of electric light. Sleep comes easily to some, but not to others.
Maybe it's just my interpretation but, in Dickens' account, he seems to be seeking the company of another human. There is a passage where he comes across a toll booth operator, with a fire roaring in his booth, and wistfully contemplates the chance of passing some of the night in his company.
Perhaps the night is the time when our desire for company is at its most strong. You may have someone lying beside you, but they are likely to be asleep, so all you have is their warmth, if you wish to risk waking them. We can only hope that sleep comes quickly, and that our dreams may supply us, in our slumber, the company we crave in our wakeful state.
This part of the day is the most difficult for me. It seems like the whole world is asleep, and all its bars and restaurants are closed. At times, the overpowering sense of loneliness and isolation, which is the curse of the insomniac, is almost too much to endure. The darkness envelops all, only to be chased away by the dreariness of electric light. Sleep comes easily to some, but not to others.
Maybe it's just my interpretation but, in Dickens' account, he seems to be seeking the company of another human. There is a passage where he comes across a toll booth operator, with a fire roaring in his booth, and wistfully contemplates the chance of passing some of the night in his company.
Perhaps the night is the time when our desire for company is at its most strong. You may have someone lying beside you, but they are likely to be asleep, so all you have is their warmth, if you wish to risk waking them. We can only hope that sleep comes quickly, and that our dreams may supply us, in our slumber, the company we crave in our wakeful state.
Thursday, 11 July 2013
What your vote means
I am becoming increasingly concerned by what is happening in British politics, and there is a general election in two years' time, so I thought I would share an unbiased appraisal of where UK political parties stand ideologically. The linked document shows where they could have been placed in the political spectrum at the time of the 2010 general election.
If your browser is not good with hyperlinks, or you missed it: http://www.politicalcompass.org/ukparties2010
The reason I posted a link to an external page is so that my own political bias does not creep into proceedings. Worse, I could dissuade someone from voting, and that would be the worst thing I could imagine. Even if we were to make a protest vote in large numbers, it would be something, and would show whichever party we get in government that the people are at least prepared to turn out and vote.
It's two years away, at the time of writing. Whichever way you plan to vote, please do vote.
If your browser is not good with hyperlinks, or you missed it: http://www.politicalcompass.org/ukparties2010
The reason I posted a link to an external page is so that my own political bias does not creep into proceedings. Worse, I could dissuade someone from voting, and that would be the worst thing I could imagine. Even if we were to make a protest vote in large numbers, it would be something, and would show whichever party we get in government that the people are at least prepared to turn out and vote.
It's two years away, at the time of writing. Whichever way you plan to vote, please do vote.
Tuesday, 9 July 2013
How to learn absolutely nothing
If I were to write about anger, where would I start? It's a question that has occupied my thoughts lately, and it's not an easy one to answer. Anger, you see, is a very personal thing. Much like our response to loss, it is something we deal with in our own individual way. More importantly, few things have a greater capacity to cause embarrassment, ill feeling, resentment and lasting damage to relationships than unrestrained anger.
We seem unwilling to understand, or even acknowledge, our anger. It is a valid human emotion that is common to all of us, and yet we tend to see it as something shameful: we even go as far as to say that someone giving in to their anger has "lost it".
It is understandable that most people do not want to deal with the anger of another person. Dealing with aggression is not pleasant, and anger, by it's very nature, is usually expressed in an aggressive manner.
I'm not immune to the feeling myself. When my illness was first diagnosed, when I discovered that it was likely to become progressively worse, when all the possible associated future complications were revealed, I was angry. I felt that it was grossly unfair, that the whole universe was conspiring against me. The most damaging aspect of my anger, at that time, was that it was turned inward towards myself, leading to an extended period of severe depression, the severity of which I never wish to experience again.
For the first time in my life, I became a bully, and the victim of my own bullying behaviour. I labelled myself as worthless, thoroughly deserving of whatever pain and misery was yet to come. Surely, I reasoned, I must have done something terribly wrong to deserve this. It was a truly awful time, but I learned a lot about anger, because I was both the aggressor and the recipient of my rage. So, what did I learn? It's no surprise that anger can be extremely damaging; however, it can also be transformed into a vehicle for positive change.
One of the first things any good anger management course will teach is that there is absolutely nothing wrong with feeling angry. Trying to repress anger can lead to it being turned inward, as previously described. The goal, as any good anger management course will go on to say, is to express your anger appropriately.
In my case, my anger was turned away from my own perceived shortcomings towards the correct target: my illness. An acceptance of my condition enabled me to change the way I thought about it. As I saw it, this illness had decided to pick a fight with me, and it was not going to win. I lost no opportunity to discover more about my condition, or to strengthen what had already been weakened by my new found adversary. Once I stopped bullying myself, the illness became the bully, and therefore the target of my anger.
So, how do we express our anger appropriately? I would suggest that we should find the absolute source of our anger, direct our attention there, and there only. We should work from the premise that we are upset about the actions of another person, not the person themselves. It is far too easy to say things we don't mean, and turn a wish to prevent a certain behaviour repeating into an assassination of character.
If we are on the receiving end, the tendency is to fight fire with fire, as it were, or to defuse the situation quickly. The most helpful thing would be to pinpoint the root cause, by encouraging the person to talk about what they are feeling. If we react in anger ourselves, we just escalate a situation where neither party is able to think clearly, due to the "red mist" which descends.
In the end, seeing anger as something shameful, which must be repressed, serves no one's interests. If the feeling is allowed to build up inside, with no release, it will eventually be released explosively. Assertive behaviour means saying how we feel about things, whether that feeling is positive or negative. If we feel something is wrong, and do nothing to correct it, isn't that more shameful?
We seem unwilling to understand, or even acknowledge, our anger. It is a valid human emotion that is common to all of us, and yet we tend to see it as something shameful: we even go as far as to say that someone giving in to their anger has "lost it".
It is understandable that most people do not want to deal with the anger of another person. Dealing with aggression is not pleasant, and anger, by it's very nature, is usually expressed in an aggressive manner.
I'm not immune to the feeling myself. When my illness was first diagnosed, when I discovered that it was likely to become progressively worse, when all the possible associated future complications were revealed, I was angry. I felt that it was grossly unfair, that the whole universe was conspiring against me. The most damaging aspect of my anger, at that time, was that it was turned inward towards myself, leading to an extended period of severe depression, the severity of which I never wish to experience again.
For the first time in my life, I became a bully, and the victim of my own bullying behaviour. I labelled myself as worthless, thoroughly deserving of whatever pain and misery was yet to come. Surely, I reasoned, I must have done something terribly wrong to deserve this. It was a truly awful time, but I learned a lot about anger, because I was both the aggressor and the recipient of my rage. So, what did I learn? It's no surprise that anger can be extremely damaging; however, it can also be transformed into a vehicle for positive change.
One of the first things any good anger management course will teach is that there is absolutely nothing wrong with feeling angry. Trying to repress anger can lead to it being turned inward, as previously described. The goal, as any good anger management course will go on to say, is to express your anger appropriately.
In my case, my anger was turned away from my own perceived shortcomings towards the correct target: my illness. An acceptance of my condition enabled me to change the way I thought about it. As I saw it, this illness had decided to pick a fight with me, and it was not going to win. I lost no opportunity to discover more about my condition, or to strengthen what had already been weakened by my new found adversary. Once I stopped bullying myself, the illness became the bully, and therefore the target of my anger.
So, how do we express our anger appropriately? I would suggest that we should find the absolute source of our anger, direct our attention there, and there only. We should work from the premise that we are upset about the actions of another person, not the person themselves. It is far too easy to say things we don't mean, and turn a wish to prevent a certain behaviour repeating into an assassination of character.
If we are on the receiving end, the tendency is to fight fire with fire, as it were, or to defuse the situation quickly. The most helpful thing would be to pinpoint the root cause, by encouraging the person to talk about what they are feeling. If we react in anger ourselves, we just escalate a situation where neither party is able to think clearly, due to the "red mist" which descends.
In the end, seeing anger as something shameful, which must be repressed, serves no one's interests. If the feeling is allowed to build up inside, with no release, it will eventually be released explosively. Assertive behaviour means saying how we feel about things, whether that feeling is positive or negative. If we feel something is wrong, and do nothing to correct it, isn't that more shameful?
Saturday, 15 June 2013
You will never understand another person
Today started strange, and continued in that respect. I passed my final exam in Microsoft Networking Fundamentals this week, which means no more study until September. I have more free time now, and that proved valuable today.
I was woken at roughly 7:45am by a text message arriving on my phone. A friend of mine wanted to contact me before his shift at work, to tell me that he is thinking about abandoning his involvement with Samaritans. It's strange, because we met just over 18 months ago, as volunteers. I recently turned my back on that part of my life, and now he is thinking about doing the same.
One thing that comes from serving as a listening volunteer is the realisation that you can not judge anyone. You are not that person. The best you can achieve is to develop some empathy for others by imagining what it would be like to be them, in their situation, though it is unlikely you will ever truly understand them. All we have is what we are told and, unless we truly listen, we may not even have that.
I don't know if my friend will want to discuss his dilemma with me, but the worst thing I could do is to offer any kind of advice. Apart from what he tells me, I have no idea what factors may be involved in any decision he makes. Often, advice is unwanted, and has an unfortunate habit of being the wrong advice. Again, we can never fully know or understand a person.
The day continued with me getting a text message from one of my very best friends, on a visit to the area with her new man. It's always good to see her, but the other side of that is feeling sad when she has to leave again. The message was a surprise. Going to a café to meet my friend had also not been something I was planning, but my day was all the better for it.
The joy of never truly understanding someone is that they can still surprise you. Put simply, it is our differences which make us interesting. When you fully comprehend the implications of this, bigotry, intolerance and even anger do not come easily, nor is it possible to be judgemental.
I was woken at roughly 7:45am by a text message arriving on my phone. A friend of mine wanted to contact me before his shift at work, to tell me that he is thinking about abandoning his involvement with Samaritans. It's strange, because we met just over 18 months ago, as volunteers. I recently turned my back on that part of my life, and now he is thinking about doing the same.
One thing that comes from serving as a listening volunteer is the realisation that you can not judge anyone. You are not that person. The best you can achieve is to develop some empathy for others by imagining what it would be like to be them, in their situation, though it is unlikely you will ever truly understand them. All we have is what we are told and, unless we truly listen, we may not even have that.
I don't know if my friend will want to discuss his dilemma with me, but the worst thing I could do is to offer any kind of advice. Apart from what he tells me, I have no idea what factors may be involved in any decision he makes. Often, advice is unwanted, and has an unfortunate habit of being the wrong advice. Again, we can never fully know or understand a person.
The day continued with me getting a text message from one of my very best friends, on a visit to the area with her new man. It's always good to see her, but the other side of that is feeling sad when she has to leave again. The message was a surprise. Going to a café to meet my friend had also not been something I was planning, but my day was all the better for it.
The joy of never truly understanding someone is that they can still surprise you. Put simply, it is our differences which make us interesting. When you fully comprehend the implications of this, bigotry, intolerance and even anger do not come easily, nor is it possible to be judgemental.
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