PhD Philosophy & Psychoanalysis

Tag: love

How did we get here?

It was some time ago now. Looking back, it feels like another life that someone else was living for me. But it wasn’t too long ago after all; almost yesterday in the greater insignificance of one lifetime. I was living out of a single room in the flatlet I was using as my practice. Trying desperately to juggle the needs of others and the expectations they had of me, with my own burning desires for myself. It was an impossible task with an inevitable ending. It was just a matter of time before I would have to make a move that would bring an end to my life as I had been knowing it and drastically change the lives of those around me. But it wasn’t that dramatic, really, it was just symbolic of the internal shifts that had already been made inside of me. You know those things that happen to you that you only realise in retrospect?

“Just come and live with me she said” one day. Giggling at her own seriousness. And so I did. And so we began. It was only going to be temporary. She had left commercial flying to go on a walk-about through India. I was unpacking my lost dreams, trying to find what I truly desired. Through truly wanting freedom for each other, we allowed one another to feel truly seen and believed in for the first time in our lives.

Soon we began, without even realising it, to imagine a life together. Or rather, increasingly, we could not imagine one without each other. A strange thing for two atheists with little value for societal norms to admit. Over the years, I had worked with every description of struggle. From bored housewives, or people who had lost the ability to speak, to those needing something as drastic as a change in their own physical gender. Few people were nearly as remarkable as Fiona. But, I was starting to realise that there was a common question underlying all therapeutic conversations – How do I go on? How can I carve out some sort of purpose to my everyday existence? It started to feel as if our days together, the relationship between Fiona and I, had become an embodiment of these very questions.

As we sat talking one evening about our pains, our longings, our histories and the new experiences we wanted for each other, I said “Don’t go to India, let’s bring India to you”. Somehow, through this, we found a shared dream. A dream I had once lost and then found in the remarkable human that Fiona is – The Centre for Purposeful Living.

We stumbled upon a house that would set the stage for our desires. And, since then, it has not only been our home but a philosophy café; a meditation studio; a yoga ashram; a tai-chi venue; a live music gig; and, even, a safe space for shibari (Japanese rope bondage).

The trouble with purpose is you don’t always choose it, it often chooses you. During lockdown the house became a homeschool and our retreat accommodation was repurposed to store food for those in need. All driven by Fiona and the abundance of her love. She could not help but respond, in some way, to the needs of the time.

The need for food is growing and if we can continue to secure funding, we hope that the #FoodFirst project will become a permanent community project. The world in lock-down has revealed many cracks in the fabric of our society. But as Leonard Cohen would say “that’s how the light gets in”.

Social distancing has simultaneously induced a compression of emotions for most of us. Those who have continued with therapy seem to have gone through some of the most intense transitions in their lives. We have had to work hard to make the most of the cracks that #lockdown has revealed.

We will be reopening the Centre for Purposeful Living as soon as it feels sensible to do so. But, for now, you can join Fiona and I in a Mindfulness Based Approach to Addiction and an intensive Vipassana Retreat (available soon, online). By November we hope that it will be safe to host our retreat at the Buddhist Retreat Centre, as planned: Buddhism, Existential Philosophy and Psychotherapy. If this is not possible, it will also be made available online.

In the meantime, in these uncertain times, I think it is important to demonstrate love. The days ahead of us will still take courage. They will require that we have conviction in our beliefs, in what truly matters. As Leonard would encourage “Love is the only engine of survival”.

Still(a)Life#30: Coming Out of Hiding

While we collected wild fermenting guavas off the driveway, Josh found the courage to start telling me things he has been experiencing lately. Somehow the shared task made it easier for him to talk. He asked me questions about my own parent’s divorce and we seemed to find a sense that we’re in this together. Rather than him being the victim of my choices, we both spoke about how the boy in me felt similar things to the boy he is now. I realised just how much feeling and insight he harbours inside him; overly cautious about the implications for others of disclosing them. This is not a habit that I hope gets too ingrained in him. It is, perhaps, something I made a habit of myself. I guess I made a career out of that habit, tuning into other’s feelings rather than my own. Other people’s needs can easily become a hiding place. As Winnicott wrote, “It is a joy to be hidden, and disaster not to be found.”

I left my marriage when the joy subsided, and as I increasingly realised the disaster of not being found. Nobody’s fault but my own, I guess. It still takes conscious effort to ask to be found. Many of my friendships ended when I stopped doing all the finding. Now I increasingly feel the joy of coming out of hiding. The year I decided to leave my marriage I was gifted a ticket to AfrikaBurn. I camped with a large group of people, some of them my clients. But my identity as therapist seemed to be completely irrelevant in a dust storm of other people’s freedoms. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself. If I wasn’t rescuing someone or facilitating something, I wasn’t quite sure who I was.

I have found freedoms that I only ever allowed myself to imagine. It leaves me restless. I can’t shake the feeling that I am running out of time. Irvin Yalom, probably the greatest living therapist, wrote some time back “One thing I feel clear about is that it’s important not to let your life live you. Otherwise, you end up at forty feeling you haven’t really lived. What have I learned? Perhaps to live now, so that at fifty I won’t look back upon my forties with regret.” I feel like I just got started and then the world went on pause.
These freedoms are not always outward. The real rebellion is an inward one. Especially against the outdated voices in our heads that illegitimate our own feelings. There is something rather freeing about legitimating our own feelings. It somehow breathes life into us, despite the anxiety that comes with it. Lockdown seems a good time to bring awareness to those inner voices. As I write this, Josh is struggling to sleep. He seems upbeat, like he doesn’t want the day to end. I hope, somewhere inside of him, outside of his ability to language it, is the realisation that his love for those in his life does not have to be at the sacrifice of his own feelings and their legitimacy.

This afternoon I found myself writing feedback to a dear client that I have known for years: “I think absolute honesty about our feelings is the litmus test of any relationship and over censorship is the absolute demise of ourselves.”

Yalom also wrote, “To love means to be actively concerned for the life and the growth of another.” Love is an invitation to express and to grow. To sometimes hear the things you would rather not hear or say the things you are too afraid to say. Far too often, love seems to require censorship rather than expression.

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