The enduring theme of the past fortnight has been on of integration; now settled in to the physical space of ‘house’, folding in life around that centre and making ‘home’. Those routines and ritual that hold me and my life together, for example, my work place has stayed the same but the time it takes to commute now is vastly reduced. How that lands isn’t as straightforward as “yay, more time won back”. Its been a readjustment – waking time, being able to practice at home rather than meditate on the train, thinking about how I want to fold in “moving my body” now that I have less walk in my route to work. Small things make big differences in terms of feel…and thus a sense of home.
In Buddhist terminology, this is akin to creating the mandala. Like the one on the left here that I created to represent the findings from my Masters research, such modelling of the universe has often been of help. I recall my meditation mentor using the mandala principle to describe a sense of creating home across multiple locations. Her own questioning of “where is the centre of the mandala?” back then comes to me, now. The centre of the mandala is the new house located in the centre of Lewes. With that ground zero now established, these first few weeks have been like a circle ambulation, slowing – almost spiral like – stretching further afield each rotation, taking in more “new” and folding it in. I shared with a friend this week how this even manifested through my morning runs. When we first arrived I literally chose a route of what I knew as the perimeter of Lewes; the next time, I took a slightly wider circumference, folding more in. In mandala principle, this is like establishing the walls of the palace.
As we sit in the middle of the mandala, the four directions emanate out. North, South, East, and West. Having nested, I now take my seat in the middle, the open ground, the new ground, ground zero. I look out to the four directions and all the possibilities. In a literal sense, East is Eastbourne, and how I fold in visits back there to see my parents, friends…and the dentist; West is my commute to work, seeing clients in the far reach of Hove, and my teaching work at the University. Just this week, I explored the Northern reach of my mandala for a birthday trip to London; and in a few weeks time, I take myself to the South for a five day retreat to my beloved Normandy. Side to side, up and down; always returning to the middle, ground zero. Integrating this is a process not to be rushed, not to simply “take in one’s stride” but rather honour. Mirabai Starr’s invite to make the ordinary, sacred rings in my body mind.
The mandala teachings present the entrance always to the East (like the one on the right here from the Rubin museum). We face East as that is the direction of the rising sun, the appreciation of possibility and potential as we take our seat in the space of ground zero. I’ve sat with this in the past days as its seemingly paradoxical since facing the East for me is my past life of Eastbourne. However, I know deep down how much my “new” is because of that “past”. And true to the mandala teachings – which primary speak to the breaking down of duality – I face my own East, the new life, ONLY because of what I have learnt in the literal East. I have shared previously some of those learnings in the context of my Dad’s recent bad health.
In Gestalt terminology, this ground zero is described through the idea of the fertile void. Having focused down our attention to an arising figure (a need that emerges), we contact that need, fulfil that need, and then withdraw satisfied back into the ground awaiting the next thing that requires our attention. A classic example often used is feeling thirsty, getting up from the chair and walking to the kitchen, taking a drink, putting the glass down satisfied, sitting back down with an “ahh”. My wife and I were mobilised in our need to move home, having now met that need, we can rest back into the ground.
Whether we focus on the fertility or the voidness is interesting, and we all have different reactions to that! Last weekend I co-facilitated a Gestalt experiential workshop that we run each year for our second year counselling trainees. I really enjoy this weekend: working with my colleague who is also a close friend feels such a treat, and that joy doubles up when we are both so stimulated by group work and the practice of Gestalt. Furthermore, it feels such an honour to support the group by holding the container for them to work through personal and interpersonal processes: and in Gestalt theory, this is what is modelled in the cycle of experience (as described in that arising of a figure, meeting it, drawing satisfaction and withdrawing). With a group ending on the horizon, processes of contact and differentiation are under a lot of heat. The group were quite incredible as they moved through difficult terrain together. Witnessing their personal pain, their sharing of old scripts that keep them bound in suffering, and attempts to break free from the fixed gestalts was so moving. The beauty of Gestalt is there is no agenda; no where for my colleague and I to get the group to. All we had to do was help them explore the polarities of resistances and desires. “Awareness in and of itself is curative” says the methodology. This is the mandala principle: leaning into the four directions – side to side, up and down; the apparent dualities held within a reliable container.
Part of my own ability to relax into the weekend and open to the play of it all was knowing I would be having a day off to celebrate my birthday “in the north” the next day. The trip to London is not uncommon to mark my birthday, and yet this felt one of the best yet. I put it down to the interiority (and my sense of being) rather than external things (and what we did). In the field for me was an inspiration from individuals’ willingness to try new ways of being over the weekend, and a desire to shake free of my own “enduring relational themes”. On sharing my meditation experience that morning with my wife as we travelled on the train, she offered me the prompt “why don’t we contemplate what DOES make you happy?”, the invitation that comes to as I take my morning cuppa each day. Her offering was the greatest of gifts: permission to reside in the mandala space together, to contemplate the four directions in this fertile void phase of “what next”.
Companionship
Appreciation
Creativity
These are aspects of life that I value and needs I want to contact and meet in me. Writing this blog post today (as I again take a seat in my “new local” cafe), I feel a great sense of excitement at the day ahead: a day that provides the space to return to my writing plans for the coming months; a day to practice turning to what I DO have than what I don’t; and a day that ends with connection and friendship.
From this ground, Talk Talk emerge…