Heroes Not Zombies

Life’s like this, isn’t it?

It’s messy and entangled. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, which exists on this planet in isolation. Everything is connected. Everything is embedded in multilayered environments and ecosystems. Everything has a history, a presence and a multitude of potential futures.

Yet we create whole systems of thought, of society and of structures as if this weren’t the case. We separate things out, disconnect and disembody them. We reduce the complex web of inter-related reality to sets and collections of interchangeable objects.

We reduce the subject to an object.

I find all that alienating, dehumanising and artificial.

Every encounter, every relationship, is transformative. You see a movement and your body and mind go into a state of alertness. You hear a song and your heart swells, your eyes moisten and your mind fills with memories. You read a story, or watch a movie, and your emotions flow, your physiology adapts, your thoughts and ideas set off in new directions.

It makes no sense to me to do anything other than accept that life is like this….entangled, complex and messy.

Having travelled in the south of France quite a lot over the years I have a number of photos of lavender fields. When I looked at this one yesterday I was struck by how the pretty much parallel rows of the one crop reminded me of the vineyards which shape the landscape around where I live now.

I was also struck by the sheer beauty of a field of lavender. I know it’s an image which has been used on calendars, postcards and posters for many years, but it still strikes me as beautiful.

However, a third thought popped up with this image today. I write a lot about diversity, difference and uniqueness. And whilst I think those are qualities which lie at the heart of an appreciation of reality, an image like this reminds me of how we like similarities too.

There’s a particular appeal coming from the impression that what I see here are rows and rows and rows of the same plant…..so many rows, and such long rows, that they fill the breadth and depth of the image. Now, of course, it’s not all the “same” plant…..every single plant remains unique, but they are so similar that their differences fade in significance. And that’s what life is like. That’s why we have this super power of being able to recognise patterns, categorise them and store them in our memories. The ability to see the features which individuals share allows us to see a group, a field, of a landscape, as a whole.

You know me by now…..”and not or”……..I absolutely believe we need to see the whole AND the particular. But I thought this beautiful image was a good reminder of the importance of seeing similarities, especially in the context of me writing so much about difference.

Thirteen years ago I noticed this big fat catalogue sticking out of a skinny letterbox in the door of this old house in a town in southern France.

I was so struck by the incongruity – an overload of “stuff” to buy which the letterbox was unable to swallow.

I’ve thought of this as a perfect image of “consumption”. That weird thing on which we seem to have chosen the entire economic system of the world. I thought of it again last weekend when the England football team played in the Euros and the news reported a sudden “growth” in the economy as millions of fans bought and drank gallons of beer, and ate pizzas and snacks.

Really? This is what defines a “healthy” economy? So it seems. How many politicians and economists have you heard complaining about the “shrinkage” of the economy due to the pandemic and how they look forward to “opening up” so that “consumers” will get out into the shops and pubs and “grow the economy” by consuming more!?

What a bizarre system. In a finite world the economic system is geared to consuming more and more of what’s left every year. Does that make sense? Is more always the same as better? Is growth of consumption the best kind of way to grow?

When I started learning Medicine I learned about tuberculosis. Back in the day that dread disease was known as “consumption”, and nobody thought that was a good thing.

Can’t we imagine a different kind of growth? One which is more like development and maturity, than about consuming? Can’t we think of healthy citizens as participants rather than as consumers? Isn’t a business which provides a good quality of living for a family a healthy one without needing to grow into a multinational concern?

There are economist now who are challenging the orthodoxy and who are searching for new solutions, new ways of living, which don’t put “consumption” and “growth” at the heart of their thinking.

At the very least, isn’t this a good time to pause and to wonder about just what we are consuming, and to distinguish between healthy and unhealthy “consumption”?

“Finding your niche”……..what does that really mean?

All living creatures are constantly changed by their encounters. Every interaction is a transformation. Both parties in the relationship are changed in the encounter. We humans alter the ecosystems and landscapes we live in through our actions, and, even, simply through our presence.

We tend to forget that in our mechanised, industrialised, dis-integrated civilisations and societies. The reduction of Nature to an object to be “mastered”, plundered and polluted ignores this basic truth – there is no separateness and we are changed by our encounters with the “other”.

So we co-create our life worlds, or our life spaces. Every one of us lives in our own niche. But niche is not an isolated space. Each niche is embedded in a complex, multi-layered, nested web of relationships and other niches.

There’s a sense in which “finding your niche” is about “fitting in”, or finding an activity in which you can excel. But that’s just a bit too reductionist for my liking.

For me, finding my niche involves becoming aware of influences – of how I am changed by those around me, by my daily experiences and encounters, and by the environments in which I live. That, and the ways in which what I do, say and think, sets off ripples and waves of change around the niches and webs in which I live.

Finding you niche turns out to start with awareness, with noticing, with becoming conscious…….not so much about separateness as about connection.

If you look carefully here you will see a hummingbird moth gathering nectar from these buddleia flowers. This little scene is an everyday one for me through the summer months, so it’s a good example of “l’émerveillement du quotidien” which I’ve written about many times on this blog. It’s that French phrase which I find hard to translate well into English, but it means something like “the marvel of the every day”. That’s my experience of life. There is something to be amazed by, something which stops me, and makes me wonder, something that delights me, every single day. In fact, usually, I have several such experiences, and every one of them makes my life richer.

These hummingbird moths are new to me since I emigrated from Scotland. I didn’t even know they existed till my first summer here. Now I recognise the deep thrum of their high speed wings before I see them. Like butterflies they seem to fly randomly, flitting from flower to flower, probing each one with a long thin proboscis. Can you see their incredible antennae? They are simply astonishing, beautiful creatures.

Isn’t it amazing how these bushes, commonly know as “butterfly bushes”, produce these long, tapering bunches of tiny flowers which give off a strong, delightful scent. I don’t know if it’s the scent or the colour which attracts all these pollinators but this mutually beneficial relationship between them makes it hard to imagine the one without the other.

How on Earth did all this come to be?

It takes my breath away.

Look at these two photos. The first one is plant with a LOT of spikes on it. You wouldn’t want to reach out and touch it, would you? It’s not exactly inviting you to get up close and personal. The second image is one of Anthony Gormley’s sculptures. If you are familiar with his work you’ll know he often creates his pieces around moulds of either his own body, or the bodies of others. This particular piece was part of a work where he filled a room in a gallery with several items which look just like this. They were all placed pretty close to each other and you had to make your way between them. It was a really uncomfortable experience, and I think that was the point.

Ever since I saw this work of art I’d find it coming back to mind when I met certain people. I’m sure you’ll have met people like this. Prickly people. People who are hard to get close to, and who will send out vibes which let you know that if you don’t keep your distance you’re going to get hurt.

It’s hard to be around people like that. You have to be wary all the time and you never know when you’re going to get stung. Most people, most of the time, aren’t going to make the effort. We give them a wide berth.

I’ve had patients who are like this. They give the reception staff a hard time, and they are often judged by others, dismissed as « troublesome », or « difficult ». But I found that in every single case, in the privacy of the consulting room, in an atmosphere of care and compassion, with non-judgemental, attentive listening, that the spikes are withdrawn, and a soft, hurt, vulnerable soul is revealed.

Because these spikes, whether on a succulent plant, or on a « difficult » person, are there for defence.

There are countless ways living organisms defend themselves. Every one of us develops our own, unique, suite of strategies and deploys them, mostly unconsciously, whenever we feel the need. How often we feel the need will be determined by our stories so far, and fashioned by our experiences, traumas and hurts.

Adaptive strategies became my specialist subject. Once I understood that there are strong links between the ways we cope and the ways we become sick, I began to understand everything from illness, to pathology, to personality characteristics and behaviour patterns as manifestations of these strategies.

Emotions are adaptive strategies, but our patterns of defence function at a whole being level, involving not just our behaviours and thought patterns but the functions of our organs, our body systems, our tissues and our cells. That’s why I preferred to take a holistic approach to every patient. When you look at someone through this lens, you seek the connections which will help both you, and them, to understand just what’s going on, how it might have come about and what they can do to change what they are experiencing.

I don’t think this style of medical practice can be reduced to measurements and algorithms. It’s built on a relationship. A relationship between two people who gradually get to know, and to trust, each other. It’s built on the revelation of stories and the do-creation of the next chapter. It’s personal, takes time, effort and attention.

When I think of how I’d like health care to develop from here, I always think of the uniqueness of every person, the uniqueness of every relationship, and the importance of understanding, not judging, the adaptive strategies of every patient holistically. It seems to me that any system which ignores all that will be inadequate.

But, hey, before I go today, I realise that, as usual, I’ve written from the perspective of a doctor. It’s what I know best. But there are prickly people in all walks of life…..at work, in school, in families. They are difficult to be around and hard to get to know. I suspect we all use a range of ways to cope with them – maybe mostly avoidance! And sometimes “giving as good as you get”. But there is another way, which isn’t necessarily easy. It’s to use compassion, non-judgement and curiosity. Maybe the spikes won’t go away but you might come to know and understand that there’s a lot more to this person than spikiness!

Sky blue.

Sea green.

Blood red.

True. But not true. Well, look at it this way, we lived in a richly varied, ever changing world, so be careful when you apply labels to what you see. Generalising can make you colour blind.

Take a few moments and allow yourself to appreciate the colours you see in this photo. Because, I mean, is « green » a good enough word to describe all the colours you see in this sea? I don’t think so.

I don’t really mean you to try and find more labels……to apply a larger list of colour words to the shades you see here. I don’t want you to try and find « more accurate labels ».

Instead I’d just like to share a few moments with you savouring the rich, deep and wide range of colours you can see. Don’t bother labelling them, just notice them. And linger at little.

My experience is, and I hope you have a similar one, that my mind has a tendency to close down once I apply a label. I find that if I stay curious and switch from classifying or « knowing », to savouring or « experiencing » that I see more, hear more, taste more, smell more, feel more…….

I find that staying curious, staying open, slowing down, allows me to experience a richness and a depth in daily life which just never runs out.

The general semanticists have a phrase « judgement stops thought ». Labelling, categorising, classifying, generalising are all forms of judgment. They aren’t bad things to do. In fact, they can be pretty useful. It’s just we have to remain wary of them. Wary of their capacity to blind us, to separate us from reality, and to keep us living in life’s shallows when we could swimming in the deeps.

Yesterday I wrote about resonances – the symmetries, echoes and synchronicities which enrich our lives. So, here’s my suggestion for you today.

Look for, and savour, some resonances.

We spend too much of our lives on autopilot (zombies, not heroes!) and the way to counter that is to become more aware of the present. When we are more aware, we can become more engaged, and can, more consciously, relish and savour the everyday wonders which enrich life.

When we resonate we build and/or experience connection. We connect to what is greater than ourselves. We connect to the rest of planet, we create opportunities to empathise and sympathise with others. We build up our capacity to care and to love.

I think we can find resonances in a multitude of ways – reflections, similarities, echoes, synchronicities, getting « in tune with » and « harmonising with » others.

Try it for yourself today. See what resonances you notice. Be on the lookout for them. Then allow yourself a few moments to savour them. At the end of the day do your own reflection, as you think back over the day and relive any of the resonances you encountered.

What’s your experience? Is your day enriched by resonances?

I love the resonances which I encounter in daily life. There are all kinds of resonances. There are similar patterns which occur at the same time, just like in this photo where the linear pattern of the clouds resonates with the linear pattern of the vines in the vineyard. I find that really delightful, particularly because the similar pattern is in two different media – the sky and the land, or the clouds and the vineyard. A common place to see this kind of resonance is at the beach where the patterns in the sand are often similar to those in the sea.

Another kind of attention grabbing resonance is that of reflection. Isn’t it just so beautiful when you see the still surface of a pond, a lake, or a loch, acting like a mirror, reflecting the surrounding flowers, trees and hills perfectly?

But there are also the resonances which are more like echoes or memories……where something we notice reminds us of something else, some other place or some other event.

Perhaps the kind of resonance which excites me most though are the synchronicities which we experience. Those times where something we read comes up in a totally different context, or totally different text. Or where something which is a recent focus of attention seems to find references in songs we hear, stories we read, or other experiences we have.

Still, at the end of the day, the resonances I love the most, are those experiences of connection with others, those moments when we feel « on the same wavelength » or are « in tune » with each other.

Resonances deepen the meanings in our life. They make life feel richer and more significant. They stir us in the depths of our being.

I’ve got a new camera, my first new camera in many years. My old Nikon had started playing up, switching itself off, becoming unresponsive and pretty much every photo I took needed editing afterwards. I’ve gone for a Sony RX100 (can’t for the life of me figure out why camera manufacturers have to give their products such bizarre names, strikes me as a failure of imagination!).

Here’s one of the first photos I’ve taken with it, (yesterday’s pic of Little Owl was taken the same day), and I’m really, really pleased with it. Look at the sharpness of the details.

This photo of a bee seeking nectar and gathering pollen in the process as it buzzes around the flowers of this lovely bramble plant is more than just a pleasing image. In fact, this is the kind of photo to delight me most. I like it for its beauty, but I also like the thought trains it inspires.

Let’s face it, this relationship between the bee and the plant is a superb example of an « integrative relationship ». Remember the definition? An integrative relationship is a mutually beneficial one between two well differentiated parts. This is the essence of health. In fact, it’s the essence of Life. Without these integrative relationships life just couldn’t exist. None of us can survive without others, and without healthy relationships spreading far and wide across a highly diverse web of non-human organisms.

The bee doesn’t have to become more bramble like, nor does the bramble have to become more bee like. It’s not uniformity and sameness which lies at the heart of this success. It’s difference AND the ability to create MUTUALLY BENEFICIAL bonds between them.

Isn’t this a great principle on which to base a society, or, indeed, a civilisation?

We humans haven’t quite managed that yet. We’re still pretty much in the thrall of competition, exploitation, consumption of resources and production of waste.

Mightn’t it be better to swing our attention and energies towards co-operation, mutual benefit, sustainable consumption and the minimisation, if not elimination of waste?

Maybe we need to be a little less arrogant and realise we have a lot to learn from the rest of the natural world.