Unadulterated Pleasure …

Watching my young god-daughter last night eating an Easter egg really brought to my attention how much our relationships with food and eating change throughout our life.

As babies and young children we eat when we’re hungry.  We demand to be fed, and if we’re lucky enough to live in the Western world where food is in plentiful supply, and if we have caregivers who respond adequately to our needs, we’re given food.  And we consume it, and we stop eating when our body is satisfied.  Babies and young children aren’t aware of the pressures yet to come to them from our Western culture that demands that they look a certain way and that they manipulate their body into a prescribed ideal.

When I showed my god-daughter the egg, her face lit up with unadulterated pleasure.  There was pure excitement in her eyes as we unwrapped it together.  And as you can see from this picture, she consumed it with passion and pure enjoyment …

How many people as adults are able to consume food, and especially chocolate and other ‘treats’ with the unadulterated pleasure of a child?  So many adults have their pleasure of food spoiled by inner voices telling them they shouldn’t be eating it, they’ll get fat, it’s wrong to enjoy food, etc., etc.  And even people who’ve never struggled with eating disorders, so often worry about putting on weight, losing weight, the number of calories, the fat content, and more.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could all eat with the unadulterated pleasure of a young child?  If we could all simply eat to satisfy our body’s physiological hunger needs?  But food and eating are inextricably tied up with emotional needs and hungers … and for the majority of adults, food and eating is often used as a substitute means of satisfying those other needs.  We all use food in ways other than satisfying bodily hunger … have a think about how you use food and what food means to you, and for you …

Wishing you too, the unadulterated pleasure of chocolatey abandonment ...

Melodious, Harmonious Empathic Connections

I've been sitting reflecting between clients today on a changed sense of self I'm currently experiencing.  I'm recognising it as an opening up, an expansion, and also a reconnection to a vital part of myself that 've suppressed over the last few years.

In my teens and early twenties, music was a huge and vital part of my life; a huge and vital part of mySelf.  Back then, when I didn't have a strong sense of Self, music gave me an identity and a way of expressing myself. I played guitar, a little bit of piano, sang, and wrote songs; and I loved it.

Leading up to, and during, my counselling training, I began to develop and connect with a much stronger sense of Self as an individual. Self awareness, personal development, psychological theories and therapeutic ways of being enveloped me. I found other ways of expressing myself. I became a 'Counsellor,' a 'Clinical Supervisor.' I became a 'PhD Student,' an 'Eating Disorders Specialist.' I became a 'Clinical Hypnotherapist' and 'NLP Practitioner.

But somewhere along this path, I forgot that I was also a 'Musician,' and a 'Songwriter.'

Sitting here today, I can see how blinkered I'd become, how focused my vision had become onto the therapeutic and eating disorders worlds. I loved, and do still love, that therapeutic world. I love connecting therapeutically with clients, exploring my own, and others' subjectivities, sharing deep empathic understandings and connections, being part of, and observing, the growth and change processes of others.

But, I also love music. And I think I've forgotten that at times.

For me, the connection that happens in the therapy room when working at depth with clients, is a similar sense of connection I feel when connecting with other musicians in a music room. And it's only as I write this now that I'm understanding that parallel. For me, connection is so important. That sense of retaining my own unique individuality (sense of Self), whilst connecting at a deep empathic level with others, is vital, and as both a musician and a therapeutic practitioner I'm lucky to experience that.

If possible, at times, the musical connection can feel even deeper than the therapeutic one. Playing an instrument or singing a song with other musicians, and hearing and feeling part of a shared whole (the song) is incredible. One retains one's individuality as the musician, but it truly is an experience where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. It truly is empathic connection at the deepest level; embodied, through Self, through instruments, and through the music.

Embodiment has been a significant part of my PhD research. And I'm now really appreciating just what an embodied experience music is; both when playing an instrument or listening to live / recorded music. Music isn't just heard. It's felt. The bass line or drum beat that resonates through one's body. The melody or song lyric that causes the hairs on the back of one's neck or arms, to stand on end. The rhythm that your foot just can't help tapping along to. And when playing an instrument, the musician and instrument seem to merge. Watch musicians play, and just see how their body moves with, and around, their instrument. Observe their facial expressions as they lose themselves in the sound and the act of creating that sound. And when playing an instrument it can, at those times of empathic connection with the music, feel that the instrument truly is an extension of one's bodily self.

It's no wonder that for some musicians, their instrument becomes so precious to them.

I'm excited about reconnecting with my Musical Self. It feels as if my sense of Self has expanded, has opened up. My world is suddenly a bigger, much more expansive, expressive place. I think the 3 recent entries on here, and the song I've just written, are proof of that! An opening of my mind, and an expansion of my creativity, which I hope will also help me re-engage with my therapeutic and academic work in a much more expansive and creatively expressive way too.

  

Melodious, harmonious empathic connections, musically, therapeutically and academically are hopefully mine now ...

The Songwriter's Muse

Inspiration can strike in the oddest of places ... here I am, sitting in a motorway services somewhere on the M1 on a wet Sunday afternoon and a song has began to take shape in my head!

I used to be quite a prolific songwriter (not all good, but a few memorable ones!) but I've gotten out of the habit in recent years. However, after an enjoyable and extraordinary encounter this weekend, musical inspiration seems to have infiltrated my unconscious ... and I feel excited by it!

I never had a set way of writing songs. Sometimes the lyrics would come first, at other times the melody or the chords would introduce themselves to me as I played my guitar or piano. Sometimes they'd make themselves known to me simultaneously. I always had a storyline for a song ... a complete, contained little tale told in a few verses and a chorus, with sometimes a 'middle eight' or a reprieve thrown in for good measure.

Today though, I'm sitting here looking at the cars and lorries driving by on the M1 and the storyline has presented itself to me, visually initially, inside my head. I can see images in my mind ... almost like the video that would accompany the song. From the images I can see the atmosphere the song will contain, and from that atmosphere, I can hear, in my mind, the feel, shape and sound the song will take.

From that storyline and atmosphere, I'm writing potential lyrics, the story the song will sing. Of course, they'll change as they find their place in the music yet to be composed. Their structure and rhymes will change and adapt as they find their best fit amongst the melody, chords and rhythm.

My songs have always been inspired by personal experience; by something that's happened to me, been said to me, or that I've seen or read. They're not always an accurate representation of my personal experience and feelings, but sometimes adaptations, exaggerations, contractions, alternative realities. And I like the ambiguity that comes from knowing that others don't my truth; is the song my reality, or is it not?! It allows me to be emotionally present in the songs whilst not laying myself too vulnerably bare. (Similar in many ways to how I write this blog).

And I feel so excited! I can't wait to get home and sit down with my guitar or at my piano and allow the music to flow. Because for me, as a songwriter, that's what needs to happen; the song needs to flow. It feels like the song writes itself; like I'm just the channel through which the lyrics and music find life.

And that's such an exciting process! I remember the sense of achievement, awe, contentment and pride when a song has been born. Something that I've created and given life to.

And right now, I'm looking forward to feeling that unmistakeable feeling once again ... very soon!

And following from my previous entry ... I wonder if the people around me now can see any outward signs of my inner excitement as I manically type this up alongside the lyrics on my iPad!?!

  

... with special thanks to my brown eyed inspiration ;-)

Masking Turbulent Insides

Sitting at the corner table in 'The Olde English Tea-Rooms,' watching everyone relaxing and chatting over their tea, coffee and freshly baked hot scones. I suspect I look just like one of them, enjoying a leisurely cup of coffee, calmly writing these notes ...

The outer appearance though is a mask; a complete contrast to my turbulent insides.

My stomach is churning, turning somersaults as it baulks at the caffeinated invasion. Nausea sweeps through me in unexpected waves. My mind is dancing and jumping through all the possible alternative realities that might be mine for the rest of the day as I anticipate turning the page to this as yet, unwritten interlude in my life.

Nervous, excited anticipation is my current dining companion. The meeting I've waited for, imagined, fantasised about, looked forward to, is about to happen. No one else in this sweet little cafe has any idea of the free-falling feelings tumbling around inside me.

We might be all sharing the same physical space, but we're each living our own unique, individual realities and experiences.

And for me, that's one of the things I love about us as human beings. We can never know completely what someone else's experience is; even when we're sharing that same experience. We can look around us at the people we're sharing public spaces with ... cafes, restaurants, bars, concert arenas, public transport, shops, schools, etc ... and yet never know what those other people are thinking, feeling, experiencing, remembering, even forgetting ...

And at times, the knowledge that no one else can know what one is thinking or feeling creates a sense of power. We might leak clues with our body language; and it can be fun to watch the expressions ... smiles, frowns, grimaces, etc ... that sometimes cross people's faces unconsciously, or changes in their posture, body movements. But they're just little unconscious leaks, small clues. We can never truly know.

Sometimes, it might be nice to know what other people are thinking or feeling, especially those we share a close or intimate relationship with. It would certainly reduce the inevitable uncertainties, misunderstandings and miscommunications that are part of relationships. But that would detract from the uniqueness of each of us as the individuals we are. Our unique subjective experience is what both isolates us ... and ultimately, connects us.

And by the way ... my meeting proved very enjoyable! The nerves had been entirely unnecessary; an easiness and gentle connection, with a hint of more to come quelled those instantly!