Eine Oase ist ein guter Ort, um innezuhalten, sich zu sammeln, zu reflektieren und die Batterien aufzuladen. Jede Woche gibt mir reichlich Inspiration in Bezug auf Themen; mögliche Quellen sind Coaching-Sitzungen, Gespräche mit Familienmitgliedern und Freunden, meine eigene Lektüre oder einer der vielen Beiträge und Podcasts, die ich unterwegs genieße. Ein Thema wird mich Anfang der Woche ansprechen und ich habe dann große Freude an dem iterativen Prozess des Entwerfens, Überarbeitens, Polierens und Fertigstellens jedes Aufsatzes. Dann folgt die Auswahl eines passenden, meist aktuellen Fotos aus meiner Sammlung, um das aktuelle Thema visuell zu akzentuieren. Wenn Sie die Artikel in Deutsch lesen möchten, klicken Sie bitte auf den entsprechenden orangenen Button „Translate >>“.
Ich lade Sie ein, sich eine kleine Auszeit zu nehmen, Ihre eigene sechsminütige Oase zu schaffen, einen bequemen Stuhl zu finden, sich niederzulassen und zu lesen. Mögen Sie ein Gefühl der Identifikation erleben und hoffentlich etwas Inspiration in diesen wöchentlichen Reflexionen finden. Wenn so, fühlen Sie sich frei, die `Weekly Reflections´ zu abonnieren:
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One memory from this period is seeing a ghost at the door of my bedroom and feeling the despair of powerlessness in the face of such a terrible threat. When, on occasion, an older sibling or adult came into the dark bedroom and turned on a light, it became evident that the object of my fearful fantasies was a dressing gown hung on the door…
The second encounter was with a person who insists on seeing the glass half empty rather than half full. This lady is constantly battling a sense of doom and depression, talks incessantly about having to do this and having to do that, while passive-aggressively lamenting her lack of freedom. The hilltop at play here is that of the victim in a world apparently characterised by scarcity. This has been going on for years, with no visible improvement in the quality of her life…
One day, however, at the age of eleven or twelve, I left home on a Sunday evening, ostensibly to go to evening mass, but with the conscious intention of putting the contention to the test. Honestly, I waited for a while, petrified, for a bolt of lightning to strike me from the heavens. When that did not occur, there was a great sense of relief. My adventure could now really begin!
Addicts—which I’m convinced are all of us, in one way or another—have an intense resistance to change. We like predictability and control. That’s one of the reasons addicts find it easier to have a relationship with a process or a substance rather than with people. Unlike objects, people are unpredictable. Having a drink, making a purchase, or turning to our devices can change our superficial mood very quickly…
Watching very young children at play is a gratifying experience. When they feel safe and find themselves `in the zone´, there is no end to their creativity and spontaneity. They exude an air of vitality and freedom, both inspiring and infectious.
When was the last time I felt like this?
Even very early on, our relationship was challenging. I’m not sure what it was. Perhaps the cause of our initial difficulties lie in those earlies of days, beyond the boundaries of cognizant memory. One of the first things that stands out in my conscious recollections is her habit of shouting. She seemed to operate like a control tower for her ten children, doing her best to protect and coordinate them, regardless of location in or around our sprawling home, and simply turned up the volume, without altering her position, when the desired response was not forthcoming…
I am in no doubt that my mind’s proclivity to wander has been the cause of much of the suffering I have generated throughout my life, for my self and others. The harm that has resulted from this suffering has had the greatest impact on those closest to me; harming those we hold most dear in life is one of the most cruel ironies of the human condition…
Finally, on recognising that the illusion that `I had to do everything my self´ had been contributing to my malady, this too had to be jettisoned. This meant asking for help, not something that comes easily to me. I surrendered to the fact that I was in a trap which, though my own devices, I could not spring, and reached out for help. This I found in others who, through their own experience, knew my dilemma and had not only found a solution, but were, as an integral part of this solution, eager and ready to help the next folks…
Good Lord, defeat! This was the last topic I wanted to address at that moment. I felt my mental fingernails as they began to graze on the scabs of long-supressed internal wounds and would have preferred to zone out, in whatever way possible. But this therapist knew me a little by now. He knew that my intellectual pride would never allow me to duck the issue, now that it had been presented…
So far, so good, you might, or might not, say. But as we now all face the real existential threat of global warming, and having experienced the extensive divisive damage to our societies and the erosion of civil liberties resulting from the bungled political response to the first pandemic in a century, many of us have become more acutely aware of our interdependence, both in the human realm and, beyond that, with all of creation…
Even those obvious losses were impervious to my efforts to grieve. My heart felt numb. Nothing stirred, but for an inkling of rage deep down inside. Like many in such a predicament, I chose the solution of self-medication using the drugs, – legal and illegal – which were freely available to us as teenagers in the 1970’s, and the process addictions of the False Self such as workaholism, co-dependency, and ego inflation which are so lauded in the culture of today’s global, post-modern, consumer society. I became convinced that I couldn’t grieve because I didn’t know how to “do” it. Only much later, after years of living in addiction recovery, did I come to the realisation that grieving is not something we “do”, but rather something we “be”…
The central argument Frankl makes is that life has meaning whatever the circumstances, even when profound suffering is encountered. The title itself is the core message: we can and must say „yes to life“ not because of circumstances, but in spite of them. It is easy to say „yes to life“ when everything is going well. If that „yes“ is contingent on circumstances, however, it can never be sustained because, as we all know, circumstances change as much as the weather in my native Ireland. Everything, even our existence in this incarnation, is transient…
Even the most articulate and hard-working of us may find we cannot erase the imprint of a parent who was too busy or depressed to notice us or who seemed to consider us a burden. We then interpret this as our caregiver wishing we’d never been born. When we internalise such stances, our shame, if it could speak, would repeatedly tell us that “the world would be a better place if we were dead”. Our lives change only when we reconstruct the missing inner maps that should have been formed in safety and attunement…
© 2022 SoberOasis | Patrick Little
