Hazel Acland Tree's Blog, page 8

The Champion ~ a story written by a sperm on a mission

“If Hercules had thought of danger as a deterrent, would he have gone on any of his quests? I think not. Courage is akin to stupidity, not bravery, in my book. Only thing is that by the time I set off on my venture, I hadn’t yet learned to read. Anyway, I was up for the challenge, up for anything as long as it got me out of the dark tunnel I’d been holed up in, my entire life.

Before all that happened, I’d lived, as only a young, independent, single-celled organism, such as myself, could do. Life was simple: feasting, preparing for battle, thrusting erotic poses and admiring ourselves. We may have been terribly narcissistic but that was just how things were done there. The basis of my youth was spent, short as it was, learning to master the technicalities of using the propulsion system of my tail. The right kind of whip would propel me forward, just a couple of centimetres or so I admit, but in my dimensions that was seen as quite a feat and I was proud of my accomplishments, for I wasn’t the largest sperm in the sack.

Compatriots came and went, some decamped out on the hero’s river to seek fame and fortune; if it didn’t flow in one’s lifetime then Death took them slowly, sucking their juice until they shrivelled and died. I tried not to watch, but it was morbidly fascinating. I don’t remember the exact day when Death started speaking to me. It’s funny how memory can be so temperamental. But one day he was there and then after that always seemed to be around, until he was part of everyday life; get up, exercise, eat, rest, eat, spend time talking with Death, exercise, eat, rest. He was a solid presence, a kind of father figure, and wanted me to do my best; at least he did in the beginning until we both realized what that success would mean. I tried to prepare for my quest, The Quest. I prayed the river would flow in my lifetime. Death seemed to think there was a pretty good chance. The river was often flowing these days, something to do with getting a leg over.

Then, the moment we’d been waiting all for, finally arrived. A whole platoon of us hurtled out on the River of Life, through the thin tube, then out into the rich Cave of Life. Legends are told of this place. It is called, ‘The Place of No Return,’ because once you are here your quest has started and well, as the name suggests, you can’t go back, this is it. Some of us thought of it as myth, stuff to tell the little ones, so they keep on wiggling and practising their tail exercises. But it was just as the story said it would be: dark, opulent, inviting, and dangerous. It smelled like a new day, of damp earth and moss, like the wind in my hair at the beginning of an adventure, of flowers and yeast. It was unknown, yet strangely familiar.

We passed through the sacred gates of life, smelt the fertile valley opening. Yet the air was also tinged with the scent of the unknown and Death lingered in the folds of the valley. I saw his hat, he insisted on wearing it even though it gave him a slightly old-fashioned air.

‘People have certain expectations,’ he said, as way of explanation. ‘Likewise the scythe is a mere prop; I never actually use it to chop people. They normally collapse just by seeing it.’ The empty eye pits looked at me, but he wasn’t scary, not to me, just misunderstood.

Today however, I wanted to avoid him at all costs, because today was all about me finding life and he wouldn’t like that. I wanted to win, to be the champion of the day, to travel the contours of the valley, find the opening to the cave and dive in. She was there, waiting, somewhere. Her smell was everywhere, intoxicating and alluring. I tasted her ripeness, which wasn’t as acidic as I had feared. That was a good sign. The alkaline juice felt so sweet to my lips. Yet doubts swam around my head, fogging up my vision like early morning mist on a windscreen. Miles of dark passageways lay ahead, full of unknown dangers. Not that I knew the meaning of dark, never having seen the light. But shadows and risks, I understood alright. Those thoughts could slow down a sperm on a mission. I flicked them away, with the glorious tail propelling me forward, towards my goal, flick by flick.

The first obstacle on the path was the mucus plug. They’d said if she was ripe, then it would be thin enough for us to get though. I mean, I’m sure she did want us to get through, where would she be without us? But it was a trap. Millions of fellow river swimmers were lost, as thick, fibrous cells ensnared them and the air filled with wild laughter. Those long-haired cells sung like sirens, from distant seas luring sailors to their doom. I kept my eyes dead ahead and with some spare mucus found floating around, I plugged my ears closed, like Odysseus tied to the mast. My Penelope was waiting, and I would travel oceans and fight demons to get to her. She was in the uterus, lush with promise, and thick with potential, luring us on. I kicked and moved swiftly onward with my tail behind. I ignored Death, as he collected the unfortunate that had fallen. He kept glancing in my direction. Was he glad I’d gotten through? There wasn’t a lot of time to think about him, I had to concentrate.

Up ahead came the big decision. The one I’d been thinking of, or trying not to think about, ever since I’d learned about it: turn left or turn right? It was a life and death decision, any way you looked at it. One way meant finding an empty grave with my name on it. It was a way of no hope, just a few days swimming in the empty tunnels before the long sleep claimed me with the man in black waiting with a grin on his bony face.

The other way, (but which way was it?) meant a chance to make something of life. Of course, nothing was certain. Death could be waiting anywhere along the way, he liked to hide around corners, thinking it was funny, even though I’d told him it was a bad joke.

They, (how did ‘they’ know?) said if you chose the way of no hope at least it is a quiet way to go. But if you end up in the tunnel of chance, then the worst dangers are yet to come. I felt like Hercules, trying to fulfil twelve impossible tasks before being able to claim my prize. The irony being, that I didn’t even know if there was one. Maybe she wasn’t yet ripe; maybe the smells were all wrong. The gateway to the uterus hadn’t been as open as I would have liked. It all seemed like a battle, just to get to this point and look at how many millions had already died in this quest. Our number had been diminished, but there was still a cornucopia of sperm seeking the Holy Grail, about three hundred million of us, at a rough guess. I tried to forget that they had been my playmates when I was a little whipper, and kept swimming.

The crossroads sneaked up on me in the end. In my own mind, I’d planned about how I was going to stop for a moment, take it all in, then dig deep down and use my intuitive voice, to find the right direction. It felt that would be an appropriate, and mature way to choose my way to die; quickly, or slowly with lots of adventures along the way. As it happened, I was rushed and the moment passed by, so I can’t claim that the decision was mine one way or another. I saw the crossroads coming, put my head down to keep on swimming, then when I looked up again the tunnel had narrowed and I was too busy trying to stay alive, to regret not paying an active part in the decision making process.

The once smooth walls had sprouted waving arms, millions of cilia that reached out to grab at anything they could. If they caught you, then it was adiós amigo, a deadly game of tag. They were the legendary army of Leukocytes, the white cells, and notoriously vicious. An inborn hatred of intruders, they saw no difference between us, and the common cold virus. Their abundant army was specifically designed to locate, and terminate pathogens. Be you bacteria, fungi or any type of single or multi-cellular parasite they search and destroy. Wish someone had told them that we were not the enemy.

But they didn’t even seem to speak the same language, just, ‘morietur, morietur.’ Which I’m pretty sure didn’t mean, ‘please come in and have some tea and cake with us this fine afternoon.’

I tried not to take it personally, as I dodged the cilia. Some of them looked suspiciously familiar and I suspect Death was helping. I was not amused. There’s no reasoning with their single-mindedness. We’re all just antigens to them. They aren’t educated in the art of hosting. Antigenicity was not one of my desired characteristics, but it just came along with the role I was playing at that moment.

The Leukocytes were one big family. I’d already met some of them when we’d first arrived. The Lysozymes were all over the vagina like a rash, acting as gatekeepers, throwing their weight around like hired hooligans and somebody, acting in their highest level of stupidity, had decided it would be a good idea to give them some hardware. Their method of attack was to destroy our personal sugar stores, you know, the ones we each carry to sustain us on our long journey. Once they got rid of our stores, they’d move in to finish us off. Even if we escaped, we’d die of starvation, nice. I kept my stores close, and got through. I hadn’t seen Death, maybe he’d been hanging back, not wanting me to know which way he was hoping this would go. No doubt now though, it’s clear that he’d like some company, mine specifically, during the long eternity that awaits him. But I’m not about to give up on my quest so easily.

There were more bruisers waiting further up the tunnel of chance. They were the Macrophages, the big guys, the hungry ones and they slurped on sperm like seafood. I always knew it would be like this, in our race there would only be one winner. Still I didn’t realize how sad I would feel to see so many of my compatriots die. Their little ghosts littering the pathway which we’d swum together. Only when they’d gone did I realize how much love I’d had for them. Well, sometimes it is easier to love what you no longer have.

Then we saw it, the Sangréal, the magnificent orb, up ahead, and like a magnet it drew us in, the few thousand of us that were left. The zona pellucida, the outer shell, of that gigantic egg seemed to be an invisible force field for some of the swimmers. I only noticed because suddenly we were less and a quick glance over my shoulder confirmed it. An army diminished in size, millions of casualties lost along the way. I never was going to be a captain; everyone was on their own in this war.

The inner membrane was in my grasp. I held on as if my life depended on it, and of course it did. If I let go I was dead, and Death would have another companion. I had come so far, passed so many obstacles and not been deterred from this: my glorious goal.

I tapped out a love song with my nose; it was the only part of me that was free to move as I hung on. She was the size of a planet, but I willed her to hear me. There was so much noise and confusion all around just then; guys shouted or fought among themselves, others tried to use force to gain entry past this final barrier. There would only be one of us that would make it through this; only one. Focusing on the tip of my nose, I tried to tap out my feelings, to express the depth of my love. I had to trust that she could hear me, feel me, and know I was there, waiting to come in. The other sounds faded into the background as I sang of the beauty of the world that awaited new life, a world that would be born the moment we came together and began our journey. I sang of sacred union between the masculine and the feminine, as we came together to dance our chromosome dance. I sang of partnership, of desire, of passion, of unity and commitment. The song came from the very pit of my soul, and touched something older than any of this. We were just two single cells, in a primordial sea, bumping into each other, but the sum of our parts would be so much greater. We could create the Garden of Eden, paradise on earth, birthing future generations. It was what we had been longing for, dreaming of. She was my yin and I her yang. I sang and I sang losing myself and becoming one with the energy that flowed through me. There was only the song and I surrendered to its power. It might have been overly romantic for some, but as I said, it was what was happening at the time.

Then the texture beneath my nose changed. It softened and yielded to me. To me! It opened as I opened my heart. It heard me, she had listened and she had heard. Aware of the possibility of life that this opening gave me, I closed my eyes allowing the sensation of acceptance to wash over me.

I slipped inside, suddenly aware of sadness, my glorious tail had to be left behind! No one had told me about this, I felt cheated, it had got me where I needed to be, been my engine and my driving force. With it I left my mitochondria, there was plenty to be had inside. And so I accepted my fate. The doors closed behind me and the chemical blocking mechanism meant permanent closure. I noticed Death slipped in behind me, my constant companion it seemed, yet there was no way another sperm could come in and no way for me to get out. The future unknown…”

Sources:

Wikipedia (Online). Available at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holy_Grail and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hercules and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zeus

Campbell, J. (1972) Myths to live by. Penguin, Harmondsworth.

Weldon, F. (1994) Puffball. Sceptre, London.

Zusak, M. (2007) The Black Swan, London.

The Open University (2006) Human Biology, SK277

Learning to listen (and also how to speak)

art by Freydoon Rassouli

I am feeling deeply touched by being listened to, uninterrupted and being allowed to have my own process. This gift comes in regular amounts and is not by accident. I’ve worked, and continue to work to feed my soul in this nurturing way because I’ve found such richness and treasure allowing myself time and space to speak with another person listening. Ok, enough of being enigmatic; I’m talking about Listening Partnerships. A term that comes from Hand In Hand Parenting but isn’t an exclusive technique. It’s used by  co-councillors  and other groups worldwide. It’s simple, yet my experience has found it profound in an ongoing and ever-deepening way.

Before I started using Listening Partnerships (LP’s) regularly I found access to parts of myself through meditation. Sitting quietly I was able to sift through some of the mind chatter, feelings and physical sensations that seemed never-ending. Underneath all that there was, and continues to be, a more subtle, yet more solid ground; like the rock that lies beneath the soil under our feet. This is the place of essence, where my ‘I’ begins to melt away and that which is currently me is able to touch on something that, while also being me, is part of something much bigger and much more magnificent that this earthly momentary experience. But these glimpses were fleeting, and somehow communicating them was near impossible. How to communicate such depth and with total unattachment to how it may be received, or even understood. Maybe I’m going to deep here, maybe I should back up a bit and go back to talking about LP’s, they are amazing and much easier to write about being more tangible and accessible. And were the focus of today’s post….I’m very passionate about them as anyone can, and everyone could at least give them a try.

All there needs to being is a willingness to stop, listen and then when it is our turn, to speak. In essence an LP is an agreement between two people to take turns listening. Say we have half an hour free, ok then its ten minutes each; put on a timer, I talk, you listen, timer goes off, we swap, you talk I listen. When we end we find another time to do it, maybe next week. Yeah that’s it. Simple, right? It can seem so, but it’s a good idea to prepare a little and set the space so that intentions are clear. This is not a conversation, this is a confidential space where you take turns to give the other person your full attention while they talk, and also to receive their full attention while you talk. The basic underlying assumption is that your listening partner is an intelligent, loving being and totally capable of building excellent relationships. They don’t need your help, your advice or your words of wisdom. They have everything that they need inside of them to solve all their problems and find their own way in the world, as do you. What they do need is some time, space and loving attention to access those parts of themselves.

There are four principles that I’d like to outline here as they are really quite lovely (and by the way this isn’t exclusively for women, or men, but I’ve chosen to use she as my pronoun of choice):

*Respect your listening partner, and the power of your attention.

*Pay attention to your partner’s issues, not your own, during her turn.

*Identify the upset that your partner has chosen to work on.

*Help your partner to release the emotional tension she talks about.

Now that last one leads to a bit of a question; I wrote before about ‘don’t try to solve their problems,’ but then I say ‘help them.’ In this context it could mean: help them to laugh, or work on fears, or cry, or work on the fear behind her anger, or yawn, or tantrum. It means when you have identified something that you’re hearing that feels really important, don’t be afraid to gently lead your partner back to it if she drifts away to speak of something else, she may be feeling uncomfortable and just need you to say that it’s ok to go there and talk about, or cry about these things.

During my time using LP’s on a regular basis I found I’ve come to trust myself to unleash my potential to think freely. I’ve also found a great pile of reasons why listening is so difficult and how my mind can totally get in the way…for example I’m great at jumping in to tell my own story, or give my opinion, or tell them how I wold have done it, or what I would have done differently if I was them. Oh yes I can do that. But I’m learning how I also have the ability to slip gently down into the flow of the river and allow the water of words, of consciousness, to flow past and pay attention in an open-minded, compassionate and deeply loving way; knowing that the person I’m listening to is an incredible being with deep powers for self-healing and happiness but that at times she needs space and time to express her frustrations and anger at what is happening in the moment.

It’s ok; clouds drift over the sky all the time, none of them are permanent.

Being with what is in this moment

Art: ‘Meditation’ Shannon Purkey / photobucket

Today is the summer solstice, least it is here in the northern hemisphere; the longest day of the year. The sun rose this morning at 4.43 and will stay with us until 21.20 ~ that’s over sixteen hours of sunlight all in ONE day. For some reason that astounds me, the small reminder that we are on this planet spinning in space, our days and nights determined by the tilt of the globe on its axis.

Turning to face the sun the shadows fall behind me, could I even forget that they are there? Unfinished conversations, undesirable thoughts, feelings, things I’ve done then later regretted; those are the parts of me I’d rather forget. But it doesn’t work; ignoring them doesn’t make them go away. So I’ve decided to turn to face them, and something really interesting has happened. The light, and by that I mean not only the physical light of this long day, but the light of understanding seems to turn with me. I am able to see things in a different way. These shadows are not so ugly, not so scary; they are just parts that for some reason or other have not had a chance to express themselves and to be heard. It’s time. Tool bag at the ready, it’s time to look and see what’s there. I’m going to do this step by step, I invite you to walk with me down this path. There’s no agenda other than to be ready to meet whatever comes along, this is my story today but it could be yours. Maybe some of these words will speak to you, which is why I’m choosing to share this journey. We all have a tool bag at our disposal, things we’ve learned along the way that can help us reach greater understanding and compassion.

First step : Being with what it

Are you willing to explore the experience that is presenting itself in this moment and how it may affect you?

Sitting with feet on the floor I begin to breathe, just noticing what that feels like. The air is coming in and going out. With eyes closed I become more aware of the internal landscape that is my body. My heart beats and blood moves around an intricate network of vessels. I don’t have to think about it, my heart just keeps on going minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day. Sensations arise in my body, there is tightness, and also there is relaxation happening even without intention. I am aware of a gentle easing into this body as my attention is becoming inward. There are also uncomfortable feelings, ‘this is stupid’, and ‘how can I even think about sharing this,’ self-judgement and shame. I acknowledge this, just as it is. ‘Yes, hello shame,’ like an old friend I meet these feelings, not trying to push them away as undesirables. They are just there, they have their reasons, but I don’t need to understand everything right now. It’s just what it is. Holding these feelings like the sky holds clouds or a mother holds a new-born baby, tenderly and gently, ‘Here you are.’ There’s nothing wrong, nothing is broken, there’s no need to fix, mend or change this moment, this experience is just how it is. How does that feel? Part of me wants to jump in and rescue myself, make it feels better. I meet that too, ‘hello.’

Can I go further, can I continue to meet and accept this. Can I continue to share the deeper this goes? Questions fill my mind; it begins to whirr like an old computer trying to adjust to a new download. I meet the questioning, the mind, and say ‘hello.’

My heart is touching something else now, aware that behind these sensations, these feelings, this greeting of parts that have before been pushed away, there is great gentleness. I feel like a crocodile carrying newly hatched croclits, tenderness under all the scaly hard armour. There is a sense of gentleness, of holding something precious and delicate, despite all the self-judgements that these things are ‘bad.’ There is no bad, no good, there just are these things here now, happening, being sensed, felt and seen as they are. Being with what is in this moment without trying to change any of it.  There comes a feeling of lightness, of acceptance. This is just what is and by saying yes I let life touch me, feel the light of the sun reaching and warming cold parts. Something feels even too painful to acknowledge, so I say, ‘yes, this feels too painful,’ and that is enough for it to be seen and acknowledged.

This exercise brings me closer to awareness on myself, and is the first step towards being able to speak the truth and speak from my heart. If I do not do this exercise first then what I say may come from the shadow, may come from my wounding and pain. I may speak with the intention to hurt, as I am hurting. I may speak with the intention to arouse jealousy, as I am jealous. I may speak not as I wish, but in order for the shadow to be seen, to be acknowledged by another if I am unable to do that first. But how much cleaner will my interaction be, how much clearer will my communication be, if I can first know myself, feel myself and accept it just as it is, in this moment.

In brief: communication from the heart begins with dropping into presence with ourselves, touching the moment and how that feels in the body. Noticing and acknowledging  the sensations, feelings, emotions clears the pathway for clearer communication.

Does anyone else feel this way of touching self before touching another is useful? Do you do this a different way? I’d love to hear and share ideas of how we can meet and be with what is in this moment.

Natural Stress and Pain Management for a Happy Life and Healthy Pregnancy ~ guest post by Katie Moore

Modern society has introduced a number of pitfalls for human health. Thousands of unregulated and untested chemicals are released into the environment every day. The grocery stores are loaded with unhealthy foods, many of which contain largely untested and potentially hazardous GMOs. Doctors are more interested in prescribing medications for symptom relief than getting to know their clients and prescribing lifestyle or nutrition changes. 

The good news is that any woman can have a healthier experience in this life with seemingly small changes. One of the easiest and most rewarding tactics is to adopt tactics for managing stress and pain. Some of these are highly recommended for use during pregnancy, such as Lamaze, the Bradley Method and yoga, but they are just as useful during any stage of life. Learn more about alternative stress management techniques, and enjoy this no-cost technique for good health!

Self-Massage
Massage is a powerful technique for stabilizing the emotions and preventing emotional disorders. Studies show that regular massage even reduces the experience of depression and anxiety among newly diagnosed cancer patients, which is arguably one of the most stressful experiences a person can have in modern life. Unfortunately, massage is expensive, and the benefits identified so far are short term.

Numerous books and DVDs are now available to aid people in the art of self-massage. This practice isn’t new by any means. The idea and different techniques have been around in Taoist writings for thousands of years. Practitioners of many disciplines have now adopted the idea of self-massage for their students. The Eight Pieces of Brocade technique is a most ancient practice from China. Mantak Chia goes in depth with reflexology and massage of the vital organs and chakra centers that combines modern anatomy and physiology with ancient Taoist practices. A 15-minute a day routine can provide tremendous benefits and is suitable for anyone.

Breath Meditation
Most women are familiar with Lamaze. This breathing ritual is used during pregnancy and delivery to reduce pain and calm nerves. It is only one style of breath meditation, however, and it is worth looking at others. Conscious breathing stimulates the production of positive brain chemicals, and it tones the diaphragm. Choose a system that trains you to breathe into different parts of the lungs for the best effect. Yoga is one option. Beginning yoga students use breath meditation to increase circulation and awareness of the body.

Guided Imagery
All types of meditation are proven beneficial for everyone, including those facing a cancer diagnosis. Breath meditation is one style especially suited to the dynamic movements in yoga. Guided imagery is another style of meditation. It is often used by extreme athletes who can’t afford even one mistake. They will envision complex routines in order to build a neuromuscular memory of the activity before a performance. Guided imagery is also useful for reducing the experience of pain. 

The stresses of the modern world take a large toll on your health. New moms haven enough to learn about, from swaddling to cord blood banking, to baby food! Learn a stress management technique for disease prevention and a happier pregnancy.

 

Katie Moore has written and submitted this article. Katie is an active blogger who discusses the topics of, motherhood, children, fitness, health and all other things Mommy. She enjoys writing, blogging, and meeting new people! To connect with Katie contact her via her blog, Moore From Katie or her twitter, @moorekm26 .

The Spiritual Journey of Motherhood

Reblogged from Mommy Mystic:

Two things are asked of us as we move through the journey that is motherhood - that we open our hearts ever wider, and that we let go, let go, let go. Motherhood is a journey of loving and letting go. The same can be said of the journey of awakening, of enlightenment. Historically this wasn't recognized by most of the world's major spiritual traditions, which honored monasticism and retreat from the world as the greatest pathways to spiritual realization.

Read more… 2,062 more words

Reading this today was perfect timing as I lean into the power of surrendering. Full presence of being is required of me right now as I nurse my son during his chicken pox. This rite of childhood is an incredibly powerful and healing on so many levels, for both of us. We work together to breathe through the pain, the suffering, the desire (to itch, pick, scratch) and remember the bigger picture. Yes I had to give up my plans this week, let go of my own wishes in order to be fully present. But I chose this, and choose to be close, to nurture and love ever more deeply every day. And yes I also chose the pox; a few weeks ago I took him to a pox party, I wanted this to happen before he got older and it became a more intense illness (he is nearly nine).

I feel blessed being reminding of the deep power of surrender, of love and of being a mother. I feel blessed knowing that the often invisible work, of parenting a child, I do is seen, by someone.

Two free signed copies up for grabs

 Goodreads Book Giveaway


A Doula’s Journey
by Hazel Tree

Giveaway ends May 16, 2013.

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Neuroscience and Attachment

By understanding some of our brain anatomy and functioning regarding relationships it can bring clarity and deeper understanding of what happens during attachment between a new-born baby and their primary caregivers and why it is so important. I have felt passionate about this branch of science for some time, for me it links together intuition and scientific in a fascinating way. It helps to explain things that happen instinctively. I love knowing why it felt so comfortable cuddling my baby on my left side or why it feels so great when a baby begins to smile back in response to me smiling at them. Then to actually find out that these things each has an area of the brain dedicated to their function: how amazing!

On a basic level our brains are not much different to any animal. But the difference is that our brains are like a layer cake. We share the inner most layer with most animals as it evolved some two hundred and fifty million years ago. That is the reptilian brain, maybe you have heard of it before? Many antenatal classes talk of our different brains. The reptilian brain is concerned with sensory input. The second layer of the cake is the Limbic system or Mammalian brain. This brain is concerned with feeling and evolved about one hundred million years ago. The final layer, like a thin smear of icing on the top of the other two, only evolved a mere two or three million years ago. It is our Neocortex. This is what makes us human. It is our thinking brain and it looks like it is running the show but we must not forget the other layers underneath.

Understanding the functional organisation of the brain helps us to understand why we do many of the things we do and to increase compassion for self and others. Many of our feelings and body sensations are beyond our conscious control, being linked to our Limbic or Reptilian brains. We’ll look at how further on.

Many of us also know about the two sides of our brains, the left and right hemispheres. They have different functions and also develop at different times. The left brain is concerned with languages and logic. It is creative and optimistic (‘I can do it’). It works with symbols and puts a time stamp on things, memories are remembered as a when such and such happened.

The right hemisphere is non-verbal and procedural. It is pessimistic (‘Why bother, I know I can’t’) and works with feelings. There is no time stamp in the right hemisphere. It will store feelings up and bring them up when triggered, often without us being conscious of that happening. Have you ever had your computer functioning slow down for no apparent reason? Then later on found out that anti-virus software had come on silently in the background with was slowing down the functioning…Well the right hemisphere is like that. It is also the only hemisphere that develops in utero and continues to operate on its own until the baby is eighteen months old when the left hemisphere begins to operate as well. This is the reason why most of us cannot remember our births or babyhood as the information was encoded in our brain only as feelings about ourselves and others, with no time stamp.

In the early weeks of a baby’s life it is completely dependent on its bonds of attachment with other human beings to care for it and keep it alive. Due to this need there is a whole area of the brain related to attachment and it is located in the….yes you’ve guessed it … the right hemisphere.

When we hold a baby in the nook of our left arm and turn our head down to the left to gaze at them as they turn their head up to the right something amazing happens. Our right hemisphere connects with their right hemisphere triggering attachment. Then the Polyuagal Theory, which is devoted to the control of facial expression (which might not seem directly linked to the survival of our species but is) kicks into action. The joy expressed in Mama’s face is taken in by baby, who then (when they get control of their facial muscles) can smile right back. The good feelings will ping pong back and forth between mother and baby firing their mirror neurons. Then the good feelings being created inside baby will be taken into their insula where a sense of self is being created. Good attachment also means a good sense of resilience and competence. Poor attachment, for example of Mama is distracted or depressed, will mean that the referring loops being fed into the insula are giving a different message.

For good attachment to happen there is a need for trust and safety. In their absence poor attachment can mean that our self-image becomes a self-judging inner critic instead of an inner resource. Our right orbital pre-frontal cortex when activated affects how we feel about ourselves in relation to others, ‘I make people happy, I belong.’ Our right insula affects how we feel about ourselves, ‘this is me, I am good.’ The right dorsolateral prefrontal cortex relates to directed gaze, so important for bonding and attachment. The right occipital controls vision and mirror neutrons which are in service of attachment bond formation. Mirror neutrons function to mirror the internal feeling in the body of what state of feeling of another person is. So if someone tells how they gashed their leg on a rusty nail we say ‘ow’ and rub our own leg as we can feel, in our body, what they felt, in their body. It is not conscious compassion, its root is the need to bond with and be attached to other human beings, to belong to the group which also meant survival. The right medical prefrontal is where mirrored interception is recorded. All these right hemisphere parts of the brain are activated when a baby is held/fed on the left hand side of the caregiver.

This knowledge makes me wonder about my own childhood, as well as feeling excited about how I could use this information to help other new mothers understand the importance of attachment in the early days. Had I had good attachment with my parents? If I hadn’t how would I know? Could I do anything about that now as an adult?

Secure attachment in early life stimulates parts of the brain related to sense of self and sense of self in relation to others. Good attachment makes us more resilient to trauma. Understanding how our brains work and why brings in the light of awareness into our lives. Yes, we can continue in the future being more mindful of making strong attachment with our babies.  Yes, we can be more compassionate with ourselves knowing that things happen that are out of our control.

The final message is that we don’t need to do anything, but just to be with what is, feel what we feel, bring awareness to ourselves. Or as Eckhart Tolle said, ‘accept it as if you’d chosen it.’

 

 

References :

Dr Roberta Bennett & Mr Phillip Jones www.Howloveworks.info

Gaskin, I, M. (2003) Ina May’s Guide To Childbirth, Vermillion, London.

Odent, M. (1999) The Scientification of Love, Free Association Press.

Simply Birth (2013) Active Birth by Janet Balaskas, www.activebirthcentre.com

 

 

 

Embracing life’s calling

Ask any mother about the birth of their child and the chances are that she will remember the event with such clarity that other memories pale in comparison. Giving birth is a transformational event. It is a benchmark in a woman’s life and can also profoundly affect the father-to be.

It was not until after I had given birth to my son, and later attended two births of close friends in Guatemala, that it really dawned on me the wide spectrum of birth experiences. Giving birth is an event etched into who we are. But so much about how children are born goes unspoken. I was witness to how the external and internal environment makes a difference in the whole birth experience.

It was through investigations into Midwifery training that I first came across the word Doula. It intrigued me as I rolled the word around my mouth like a boiled sweet. The Doo- pouting my lips like I was blowing a kiss to a loved one, followed by the –la like a clear note sung in an alpine meadow. I loved that word and clung to it in the sea of medical terminology surrounding the UK culture of birth I had returned to. The Doo- and the -la led me through an intensive nine month long Holistic Doula preparation course. It was as much a personal journey of discovery as a preparation to support women during their birthing year. I felt honoured to be working with the energy that surrounds birth. I found it is not only transformational for the family involved but also for those around them. I saw how the personal and professional paths of those working with this energy intertwined in a unique way. It was hard to separate them. Being a Doula is not just a job, it is a life path, a calling. I wanted to do justice to the incredible personal growth that can happen when someone embraces their life calling.

Writing a story that intertwined fictional characters and events, with information and scientific theory (and a generous handful of horticulture for good measure), as well as spiritual path and personal healing was like weaving a rich tapestry. By writing fiction I found the freedom I was looking for to share some of the dance, and journey of what it can be like to become a Doula. I feel more connected to the lineage of mothers stretching back to the beginning of time. And also excited about the future of humanity as more consciousness is being brought to how our babies are being born. My hope is that this book will go out into the world and share the message of celebrating childbirth as a unique transformational journey, which can be enriched by the presence of a Doula as birth companion to the birthing family.

 

Why did I write this book anyway?

Over the past few weeks, since the release of the novel ‘A Doula’s Journey’ into the world, a number of people have been asking why I wrote the book. And this question can be answered differently to different people, on different days and depending on which direction the wind is blowing. Not that one answer is a lie and one truth they are more like layers of meaning, of ways of seeing and understanding. But I found that there was a part unexpressed, a layer that underpinned them all in some way and whose threads wove through it all uniting and creating a sense of cohesion. Sometimes it is harder to speak of the bigger picture being easier to focus on the little details, the day-to-day, the ordinary and understandable, but what of those things that drive us in a bigger way, in the most inspiring and awe-filled sense of wonder. This is what I want to write about today, to touch upon the bigger, the wider, the holding that lies underneath the activity.

Quite simply I am fascinated by birth because it is the way that we come into the world. One moment we are a collection of cells and then we mix with cells from another being and become a living being all of our own. We live in a world of water and sound. Then the perfect moment arrives and we are born into this world of light and air, taking our first breath as we leave the womb. The whole process is remarkable.

This interest became more important to me when, a few years ago, I started reading research from longitudinal studies that correlated how we were born with how we are as adults. It showed a relationship between birth and susceptibility to certain diseases in later life. It also related our mental and emotional health, including our capacity to love and connect with other human beings, with birth experience. Along with all these research findings I noticed an alarming trend worldwide for increased medical intervention during labour and birth, some of the very things that the research findings had been highlighting such as artificial hormones, instrumental delivery and caesarean section.

It struck me as very disturbing as I looked around at the ills our modern-day society suffers, such as high stress, emotional disorders, substance abuse, rage, violence and abuse of vulnerable people, and wondered if in fact we had somehow played a part in the creation of the sad state of our world. And that if this was the case why weren’t more people doing something about it?  And I felt that something needed to be done, somebody needed to stand up and speak out and that not just ‘somebody’ (as you might point the finger and say ‘you must do something’) but everybody who has a voice (and that’s all of us) could stand up and speak out about how these seemingly random things are related. And working together we could take the future of the world into our hands and become co-creators of this world not passive critics of its faults.

If we want the violence in our world to continue increasing, if we want more wars, more abuse, more disconnection then we must continue interfering with childbirth. We must continue disrupting the natural flow of hormones and bonding times.

However if on the other hand we would like a more peaceful society, if we would like more connection and understanding, if we would like to see future generations caring for each other and the world they live in then we need to respect the natural birth process, which means using our amazing technology to save lives not just because we have it.

And just writing these words I realize that this whole area is a mine-field to navigate due to much unresolved trauma amongst us. Some people reading this will be so triggered by the memories of their own children’s birth, which perhaps wasn’t the experience they so desired. Or perhaps the memory that is stored in the very cells of our bodies, the one’s that remember the period surrounding our own birth which happened before our conscious mind come online, and maybe that memory is painful. Perhaps our own birth was difficult. Perhaps we have never thought about it but that now reading these words we do. This can be hard work. This can be painful. This is the mine-field.

What can be done in this situation is to accept the past as if we chose it, as if part of us wanted that to happen and the subsequent learning was what was exactly needed for us. And take all these big feeling and learn how to hold them, how to claim them as our own. Working with our wounding knowing that this is what it is to be human, to feel, to live and that our work is to be present and aware with all that is happening. Accepting our wounding as well as accepting our magnificent nature is about being able to hold it all.

My passion is not confined to helping women give birth in natural uninterrupted sacred space (although that is part of my work), nor is it blinded into seeing some births as ‘good’ and others ‘not-so-good.’ My passion is bigger than that. It is a passion for life and love itself, for all beings to know who they are, to realize the infinite capacity we have to heal and transform what are our deepest wounds into strengths, for all beings to stand tall and proud to be alive.

Yes I am fascinated by birth because it is how we come into this world but my story doesn’t stop there.  I am inspired by the enormity of existence. We have the knowledge, the skills and the wisdom to apply what is known about the birthing process to enable new lives to being in optimum conditions. This is incredible. We know so much. Let us use our knowledge to create positive change in the world

So I wrote a story as a way to stand up and share my message with the world. I wished to engage with a wider community of people also passionate by our beginnings. The story I tell is a simple one about how a woman begins a journey into discovering herself and her place in the world, and this happens through the transformational power of witnessing birth. She is drawn into a new world which shakes her up and makes her see life in a new light. She gains the strength to accept herself, who she is and how she became this person. It also touches on the interconnectedness of all things and how no event is unrelated to another in a person’s life. There are threads linking us not only to each other but also back through time to our younger selves, our infant selves and back further still to our parents, grandparents and ancestral line. All of our ancestors live on through us. We are the current manifestation of all those who have gone before.  We are the very pinnacle of evolution and of our individual family tree. So much lies with us.

References :

Primal Health Research Databank

Genesis of antisocial behaviour

 

Happy Book Birth-Day

Today the book has gone live ~ paperback / kindle/ e-book. The online launch party that has been happening all day on the Facebook online launch party is a really incredible experience~ having never held a virtual party before it has been interesting. But I have felt an overwhelming sense of connection and community through the internet today. Meeting old friends and making new ones.

I wanted to share some of the book here with you so have decided to post the prologue to the book, which is a journal that begins on the 14th February. So here is the beginning. I hope it gives you a taste of the flavour:

 

~ Prologue to A Doula’s Journey~

“My name is Joy. As a child my name felt heavy. I wanted to become ordinary, to be able to melt into a crowd. But I always stood out. I couldn’t help it. I was tall and my hair was like a beacon calling for attention. I didn’t like my name. I couldn’t identify with it. The lightness that surrounded the word and the feeling of celebration seemed to tease me. My name followed me around like a shadow. All my life I had been asking myself, ‘What is Joy?’ But nothing prepared me for when I finally experienced it. It was unlike anything I could have imagined. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Often we need to go back in order to understand where we are and where we are going.

These pages are the daily musings of my journal. My life has not been an easy one. It’s been complicated. Yet writing down this inner world seems to help keep things in order, like a trail of breadcrumbs while I wander off into a dark forest that is full of hungry wolves. Maybe the breadcrumbs will help me find my way out again or maybe they will just help to curb the appetite of the wolves I see out of the corner of my eye. I don’t have a map. Maybe someone else does, but who could possibly know where it is I have to go in order to recover those parts of me that are lost?

Feeling incomplete became natural for me while I was growing up, like living without an arm. But I somehow found a way to carry on despite the inner wounds. Other senses came to compensate for that huge empty hole that threatened to consume me should I look too long into its depths. I learnt to run. I learnt not to ask too many questions. I learnt that knowledge can be a dangerous thing in the wrong hands and that survival meant keeping my head down. I kept watching out of the corner of my eye in order to make sure those wolves didn’t come too close. That was long ago now.

There did come a time in my life when everything was alright. This happiness crept up on me and it felt good. It felt like I knew what I was doing. Life had a purpose bigger than just my own personal needs. It all started with the birth of a baby. I lived alone and babies were the last thing on my mind as I sat in the studio overlooking the crashing waves of the sea. In the studio I used the past as fuel to create works of art. My parents had given me something to work from, a deep well of emotions that could be wielded like a sword to carve out my creativity. I could either wield it or be cut to shreds. So I developed the capacity to delve deep into myself and fish out creativity like the fisherman I watched working from their boats. The baby was my best friend’s and the feeling I experienced was light and buoyant. But it wasn’t joy. My happiness was bound to pleasure and the need for positive reward.

My shadows still felt heavy and cumbersome. How could I have thought that after that I could be a Doula and help people transition into life as a family when my own story was such a mess? I felt like a fraud pretending that I knew what a healthy family was like.

My father was absent from the moment I arrived in the world. He left without a backward glance. Did he even look at me once? What did I do in those first minutes of life to cause such a thing to happen? Mother says my father died crossing the road. That’s when she’s feeling exceptionally cheerful. At other times I remember hearing the stories of him being a sailor who had a wife in every port or a criminal on the run from the law. Depending on what she was drinking, a different story might slide out of her mouth, sneaking its way past the cigarette constantly sealed in her lips to hit me full force in the chest. In time I learnt to duck and the story would sail past me to disappear into the ether along with the thousands of other lies thrown in my direction.

Truth was not a word I knew until I was twelve and Grandpa told me, ‘The truth my girl, is that without green plants, life on earth just wouldn’t be here.’ That was before he was found clutching his heart, belly up on the ground among the plants he loved so much.

‘Truth Grandpa, what’s that?’ The innocence of my question still strikes me. What is truth? I know now that it is different for different people. But he spoke of simple truths, of food chains and sunlight, of rainfall and soil composition. We didn’t really go in for philosophical discussion about the essential nature of truth. We talked about plants.

So my journal begins the day it all happened, the day I held a new-born baby in my arms. She was just seconds old and made me realize that maybe there was more to life than painting. Little did I know then how that tiny babe would begin a chain reaction that would set my whole world on fire. How the old demons were there, lurking beneath the apparently calm surface waiting for such an opportunity as this to emerge and let it rip. With so many unanswered questions there was only so long that I could ignore the gnawing sensations and set out to look for answers.

Deep inside me I knew that there must be another way, a way to heal my past in order to move on with my life. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to make others happy as well. It is a beautiful world that we live in. I looked out of my window and saw the sun reflecting off the blue sea like a thousand jewels and felt the light in my heart waiting to be set free. I just wasn’t sure how to make this happen, how to be freed from my own cage. This is my story of freedom. “

∞