The Messy Middle

Notes on belonging, wisdom and the shadow

These reflections were written separately, in different moments, and shared as they came. Gathered here in one place, they trace a single unfolding journey from the first search for words to explain a difference, through the shadow work of naming what was hidden, to a quieter kind of arrival.

The Invitation of Difference

For many years I tried to find reasons for doing certain things, in uncertain ways, and it ultimately left me seeking labels to explain my experience so others could understand.

I notice myself doing it now. There are two voices. The first is putting it together, reframing experiences and memories, old stories and resulting traumas, to understand and - more importantly - gather, blend and embody now.

The second voice, perhaps less mine and more others', is a hidden attempt at seeking approval with this new understanding, almost with a hint of apology for not getting to this place sooner.

It's easy to get stuck in this messy middle ground, as it has an energy of its own, teasing and pleasing.

My attention is where your attention will go. So, I move and bring the experience with me, knowing that without one, the other would not exist.

My Grandma always paid attention to the buds as they were beginning to bloom, 'aren't they beautiful, I've not seen this flower before.'

There's a fine line between grounding understanding for personal integration and expressing the experience in a hope of being understood. Yet without both, there would be no growth and development of collective wisdom.

I am different from you. You are different from me. Difference is nothing more than an invitation for you; to understand you, a little bit more than you did before you met me, before you noticed the flower.

The idea of speaking outward from different vantage points, and finding one another across that distance, runs through Abel (2010).

There's Magic in the Air

 My Grandma was the first person, in my life, who recognised - at a young age - the way I communicated with the world was different, wider and at times more colourful.

She said, 'it's a sign - there's magic in the air.'

It seems fitting I remember this now, as I begin to understand and navigate, with some curiosity - feeling vulnerable, and occasionally unsafe - about what neurodiversity means to me, and how others perceive the difference and respond when it shows up.

The knots of discomfort are a blend of unique contradictions, and I owe it to myself to experience the 'magic.'

She would also share stories, when I was sick and off school, about what it was like for her growing up, and how everything changed with the second world war.  A young mother, and a second baby on the way, while my grandpa was fighting on the front line.

I remember how sudden her voice was, almost giving no warning. There was barely time to grieve, so for her it took place in silent moments when the children were sleeping.

She said, after that, her purpose was different - she was like someone who just knew something. And she did. The world had changed, and she had changed beyond it, ahead of it. I often wonder what she would make of the experience of living today.

When the Engine Falls Silent

As the vehicle becomes more automated and the road becomes pre-destined, to the point where it's impossible to get lost anymore, the sound of the engine, the feel of the clutch and the sense of the experience seeks hibernation.

There is a meeting place for all the messy, combined challenges and possibilities that we all need to enter and navigate, before evolving the very space we are in - not somewhere else.

Like any cycle of change, through seasons and ages, the one that follows consolidates the one before. We know to plan for winter because winter has arrived before - but what if the actual skill, and natural drive, to keep warm has been replaced by a button on a remote?

There's no brand-new way, and while others may look over there, I am looking right here, where I am right now.

Ask yourself the question, 'which room now has the best view?'

Dancing with My Shadow

'How can we be mindful of… be kind… when we start making these changes?' I heard that question recently, and it made me reflect on something that for now I'll refer to as the 'strategy of mindfulness, kindness and awareness.'

'Let's focus on it because…' instead of 'let's understand why we think we need a strategy for this?'

Why do we have to emphasise the human foundation and purpose? The fundamental human side of leadership emerges from a range of embodied skills, born from embedded wisdom, that need to be felt - not learned in isolation.

Our own shadow is a rich, energetic and relatively unknown territory that holds all the reminders, the reasons, the learned way, the script. It's a whole world living quietly yet actively informing. It's neither negative nor positive, useful nor inhibiting - that description belongs to how it shows up, is acted out, experienced and received.

Today I am asking of myself: am I really cut out for doing this work? Do I have the energy? Do I actually want to?

I'm dancing with my shadow right now...

The question underneath, what makes any of us ready to do this work - is one I first sat with formally in my own research into psychotherapists' subjective experience of readiness to practice (Abel, 2011).

What Wisdom Knows

I was reading something about ageism this morning. It follows another conversation I recently had with a senior, experienced HR professional, who had left a long-term position and was now noticing how 'age and length of service' appeared to be a negative influence when re-entering the workplace.

I wonder if a label is placed, not on age specifically, but through the perception of 'instantly being associated with temporary'? We live in a world where instant answers are celebrated along with results, while in most cases not even noticing how these were achieved - a word in itself somewhat diluted by spotlights and targets.

When wisdom is lost, it makes way for potential new wisdom - developed over many lived experiences, from childhood to the here and now. It relies on the ability to understand and apply a learning process that's sometimes messy but never instant.

Next time you think about what learning means in the world today, perhaps ask yourself: 'what is it I've embodied in my life so far, and how will this contribute now, in a more AI and instant-focused environment?'

A diamond begins its journey held by the yet-to-be-discovered wisdom from the contribution of coal. The fundamental human side of change and transitions begins with curiosity and holding a space for the value of the actual contribution, not results or targets.  The wisdom lives in what I know I bring.

The Cornflakes Test

My Grandma once said to me - when I was asking for the normal brand of cornflakes, making a scene in the supermarket - 'Hey now, cornflakes are cornflakes. It's not how great the box looks, it's what's in them. Try these, and let's see. It doesn't matter if no one else likes them - you might like them, and if they taste good, we can get some more.'

Knowing the ingredients matters. It matters so we make choices that are good for us.  Just like cornflakes on the shelves in the supermarket, choosing the right environment and energy asks us to look beyond the packaging, and see an 'opening' to return to the core question - the seed of 'why' you or I may find ourselves here, now.

What is the essence of the 'why' that you may have forgotten to look at?

The whole world has become a bit of a supermarket with many shelves, yet sometimes the very thing we need is already in the local village store.

The Clamp-Like Knot

In the wrong place, at the wrong moment, wisdom can be ignored - either intentionally, or in an effort to survive the immediate grip of a clamp-like knot that’s a completely natural trauma response.

Why is it so quick? Well, the reality we live in, and the level of safety experienced, acts as a very thin buffer and takes very little to trigger it. We all experience it our own way, while all experiencing it together.

The answer? Perhaps in the very place we always take for granted.

Making Meaning Until I'm Not

I'm sure I'm not alone in navigating the court of opinion and perception when it comes to being of a certain age and then being considered 'non-conforming' to the well-versed journey of a 'working life.'

In a time when knowledge can be more instant than the soup requiring only a kettle of boiling water, there's a loss that may only be satisfied by this sugar rush.

Where might this lead us - or, more importantly, those who are entering the world of learning without the experience of discovery that was felt in the first tentative walk of a baby, finding its feet and embodying the experience of what it's like to walk in life, to turn the page of a book, to experience the cusp of unlearning and re-learning as a felt sense?

Someone asked me why I continue working as I enter my 60s; why I'm starting again after leaving a corporate job?

The answer: it's never been just a job. I don't work - I'm making meaning, and appreciating the wisdom of my own learning, the rough edges and cusp of every knot experienced.

So, in answer to the original question: I'll be making meaning – working - until I'm not. What I've understood and embraced is there's nothing like arriving at a time in life when you know yourself well enough to invite further discovery, through the wisdom of knowing it's OK; to take your time learning, in a world of instant answers.

The Whale

It came to me in an image: the whale coming to the surface and retreating into the depths. The whale is most vulnerable when it needs to surface, breathe, and feed. Or so it appears.

It's not the ability to go and experience the depths that brings vulnerability - after all, it's safe and uninhabited.

When we go deeper in a felt sense, we are safe within an unknown aspect of our self or soul, encountering the absence of light only until we can adjust.

There is no dark or light, only that which is visible and that which is beyond the presently visible. It's the small cracks in the pavement, or the tiny patches where the grass appears to refuse to grow.

When I explore the non-visible, I am entering beyond the invisible. Vulnerable and safe - this is where I may dance with my shadow, and 'be' light.

Like the whale, it's the journey from the depths that magnifies the natural vulnerability, so that it almost feels unnatural and unsafe as it arrives at the surface to breathe.

The challenge isn't knowing and sensing - it's bringing it to a world that has previously unseen.

My question is: how can I hold the felt sense of this safe, vulnerable place while navigating my return? How do I transition through the open space, while around me the old voices demand attention with insecurities, a need to feel loved, to be held, to connect?

I have the courage to find out yet sometimes miss the simple nature of being human -  receiving care, and love, and kindness. In these moments I must trust that coming up for air is the very thing that is needed, to let myself know it's OK to breathe.

One of the best experiences with my therapist-coach in supervision, was the mirror she offered - one that allowed me to find clarity throughout messy transitions, in a world sometimes designed to confuse.

It is the nature of any kind of discomfort to remind us of honesty, held deep in the heart of hearts, where sometimes words cannot be found, because we haven't yet discovered how they might sound. Sometimes we just don't know what to say, and in the absence of words we may notice more where our attention is, in the moment, how we are feeling and what our body is trying to communicate.Our voice, attention and movement are a complete, unique energy and reflection of expression, both conscious and unconscious. Each develop as we shift from a naive to natural way of being, each strengthen and orientate themselves to the environment we find ourselves navigating, while fine-tuning to the inner dimensions and emerging parts that we reclaim over our journey on the path of learning about ourselves and others.When the words and how they sound remain undiscovered, the challenge is perhaps one of attention and movement, leaning in to the absence and discomfort in that moment, allowing the door to tease open, and begin the dance.The learning for me arrives in the tender knotted, messy, unknown dance, with the known but previously ignored partner that was waiting in the wings, in the shadows. Always ready.

References

Abel, N. and Pelinku, A. (2010) Talking from Different Places. Heartwood. [Kindle edition]

Abel, N. (2011) The Essence of Readiness to Practice: An Exploration of Psychotherapists' Subjective Experience. LAP LAMBERT Academic Publishing

Richo, D. (1999) Shadow Dance: Liberating the Power & Creativity of Your Dark Side. Shambhala Publications