Posts from the ‘Love’ Category

This too shall pass

I’ve just been thinking about matters afterlife of late, prompted by a journalist asking me what I think of mediums. I then realised, once again, that it’s not afterlife but life before death that really matters.

As you may know, I’ve trained as a medium myself. The years I spent in the weekly circle at the College of Psychic Studies were important and grounding, mostly because for the first time in my life I had some sort of structure and space to hone my sensitivity without having to defend myself or explain why I perceived the world in a certain way. However (and no offence to my wonderful teacher or class mates),  mediumship never felt right to me. I never fully trusted it, nor did I understand the point. Why focus on entities and personalities when we’re all one, I thought.

I know many psychics and mediums, some of whom I count as close personal friends. I respect their chosen path tremendously and know their work can provide reassurance, forgiveness and healing to those of us who have experienced loss and bereavement. At its best a visit to a medium can help us let go.

But I still wouldn’t. Not because I judge what other people are doing, but because I believe loss is a part of the natural cycle of life. There is something inherently strange about the way the Western society deals with the inevitable. It’s not seen or heard of, it’s not talked about, it’s out of sight and hidden away in hospices, hospitals and morgues. We may see the obituaries in a newspaper but never pause to think what they actually mean. Then we’re surprised at the pain when it hits.

When someone is bereaved and grieving, we fail to allow the process look after itself and find ourselves lacking in skill to deal with something so profound. We ‘don’t want to impose’ and come up with good reasons (excuses, really) why the bereaved must be left alone to deal with their grief. We feel like we should find a solution or some sort of psychological painkiller to make it all go away, when actually all that is required is our presence. Nobody has a solution to grief, because it is a process that unfolds naturally.

So this is where mediumship often steps in. When the world around us doesn’t encourage loss to be a natural part of our lives from the start we aren’t prepared when it hits us for the first time. We panic. We get confused. We need reassurance. We find it impossible to forgive ourselves for not being there or for saying or doing the wrong thing and worry about whether the poor soul has found their way to a good place, whatever that means to us.

Don’t get me wrong, I know from personal experience we can never really prepare ourselves for loss, especially when it happens in a brutal or shocking way. However,  seven years in South East Asia taught me a lot. When a friend (who was in his mid-30s) was shot to death, his whole family and community got involved. The deceased was resting in a coffin in the sitting room as we stood around it praying and laying his favourite food on the table beside him. Children were running around and paused to pay their respects. At the funeral we all sang songs and cried as we tried to make sense of what had just happened. He was gone, but we were still there.

We are so busy running our lives that we forget to tell people we love them or proudly hold on to grudges just to make a point. Byron Katie has asked one of the most important questions of our lifetime: ‘Would you rather be right or be free’? I think it’s an easy choice.

There’s something inherently beautiful about keeping the thought of death as a part of our spiritual practice. It’s a profound way to do a daily reality check: Am I living the life that is true to me, am I living true to myself today? What am I thankful for today?

I find the practice of honouring our ancestors and fellow human beings more in alignment with my world view. It’s very powerful to stop and think about those who have walked before us, paving the way. It’s reassuring to know life goes on. If it’s forgiveness we are looking for, let’s start with learning to forgive ourselves. If it’s reassurance we need, let’s look at how we can keep ourselves safe. And when someone is grieving, let’s be there. That’s all that is needed. We can’t make sense of something that feels senseless to our human-ness, but we can learn to accept it as a natural part of life.

After all, we’re still here and it’ll all be fine.

Intolerant tolerance

My native Finland recently held its presidential elections. The runner up is a skilled and diplomatic politician, and he also happens to have a male life partner. What happened in the media and particularly the social networking sites was quite remarkable – suddenly everyone was preaching about tolerance, acceptance and love. All good and important themes that most of us perceive as virtues of course, but observing the debate made me realise how easily our emotions take over and the best of intentions turn into personal crusades.

If we are really honest, many of us only tolerate people who share our views. Think about any issue you are passionate about – human rights, animal rights, environmental issues, health, money, spirituality, politics- and the intense feelings it stirs up in you, particularly when you see or hear something that pushes your buttons. Can you say you do not judge? How tolerant are you when facing injustice?

If we say we don’t judge, then that non-judgment should extend to everyone, even those we do not agree with. Love cannot win if we focus on its opposite. Argument only breeds further argument. This is not to say we should condone actions that are not in alignment with our values – it’s just that the line between creating a more unified world and becoming the very thing we fight against is very thin.

Sometimes we become intolerant in our tolerance. Open your heart and extend love.

In transit kind of story…

Over the past fourteen or fifteen years I’ve spent an enormous amount of time at airports and airplanes – mind the carbon footprint…

I’ve experienced an emergency landing (phew), lost and found luggage and ended up on the same flight with a fellow traveller so often we became the best of travel buddies (still don’t know her name though!).

I’ve seen an on-board heart attack, which the extremely skilled cabin crew handled efficiently and gracefully; sat a couple of seats away from a prisoner cuffed from his hands and feet, consoled a broken-hearted woman, given my sandwich to someone who was more hungry than me, spilled a glass of red wine on a stranger and ended up with another passenger’s Bloody Mary all over my dress. I’ve fallen in love somewhere between London and Helsinki, and had too many cups of, err, something that is a bit like coffee, but not quite.

I’ve spent a three-hour flight holding a two year-old who decided he wanted to sit on my lap and not mummy’s, and watched more bad movies than I care to remember.

In-flight stories are one thing, airport stories are another.

The opening line of the movie Love, Actually sums it beautifully:

‘Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it’s not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it’s always there – fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge – they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaky feeling you’ll find that love actually is all around.‘

There is something strangely symbolic about travelling. We peek into the lives of strangers, creating stories about them as we sit at airports. We try to differentiate between tears of joy and tears of sadness, and wonder where people are going and why.

Travelling creates perspective and fosters open-mindedness and confidence. It enriches our spirits and makes us realise we are all the same. There is something alluring about being anonymous for a while, about the sense of freedom and space. There are always more places to see, somewhere else to go, new friends to be made…

But all journeys bring us to the same destination – no matter where we go, we cannot escape from what happens within us. Our inner luggage does not need a travel insurance as it will never be lost in transit. Running away from our thoughts may work for a while, but they will soon catch us.

It is only returning to the things we ran away from that gives us a sense of peace – a full circle. Only by stopping and facing the monster will you be able to see the fear and loneliness in its eyes. Embrace it. There cannot be a departure without an arrival, no arrival without a departure.

Wherever you go, there you are.

(I’m just about to board a flight to London – and that’s where I’ll be, until I come back. Coffee in the photo was not too bad, by the way.)

I chose you…

Over the past few months the theme of choice has been prevalent in my personal and working lives alike. Once again, it has made me think about how easily we give our power away to circumstances, conveniently forgetting that in our society there are very few things we cannot choose on a personal level (some would argue we’ve chosen even the non-negotiable factors prior to birth, but that’s another posting altogether!).

Most of us have experienced sleepless nights caused by unreasonable workloads, expectations and unhealthy office politics. Stress fools us into believing we are indispensable and hence unable to stop until our bodies give up. We are also no strangers to fear of lack as bills pile up and there’s not enough money in the bank, and hurt and disappointment triggered by relationships.

To many, romantic relationships are undoubtedly a minefield when it comes to choice. Healthy boundaries and respect are often replaced by neediness,  power games, withdrawal and transference. Yogi Bhajan said: ‘Remember the other person is you‘, a fact that each of us should remind ourselves of on a daily basis. Instead of looking within we try to externalise the cause for our pain and forget that we have, in fact, a choice; instead of opening our hearts to love we continue to focus on how much we are suffering.

In counselling we often talk about ‘owning our stuff’. This is where the element of choice comes in. Liberation comes from accepting the responsibility that our choices bring us. This doesn’t mean putting up with bad behaviour – it’s about choosing how we set our boundaries for what is and isn’t acceptable for us. Instead of wanting the other to change, we shift our focus back to the only thing we can ever really do anything about – ourselves.

When we are fully at home in ourselves, opening up to love and facing the inevitable vulnerability it brings becomes safe. We have a choice to give or to withdraw; a choice to stay or to walk away.

Whatever we choose, may it be what love would do.