It is a joy to be hidden and a disaster not to be found – D. W. Winnicott
As a child I liked to squeeze myself into small spaces, reading or playing with action figures in the nook between the dining room bay window and the plant shelf in front of it. As a teen I’d enjoy sneaking into a random empty bedroom at a party, listening to the muffled revelry of my peers from a distance. For the vast majority of my adult life I’ve lived alone and flown solo, being able to retreat to a quiet, contained space almost anytime I choose. Still there’s often a voice in my head that pops up, saying “I want to go home”, even when I am in my actual home. So strong is the urge to retreat further, find a quieter, safer place.
This urge is fiercest when I’m at my worst. During a mental health slump or after an intense stint of busy overwhelm, I really don’t want to be seen. If I don’t have the energy or wherewithal to be of use in the world, then turtling in my own makeshift shell feels like the best, sometimes the only, possible strategy. Like a twist on the old adage, “If you don’t have anything useful to be, don’t be anything at all!”.
Over time, meditation practice has helped me get clearer about these old stubborn patterns and more curious about challenging them. I went through one of these low ebbs recently, a protracted period of feeling useless and unable to do much of anything. Faced with a regularly scheduled therapy session, I made the decision that, instead of cancelling or donning an affable mask of objective distance from my true feelings, I would try to speak honestly from this hopeless place.
It was scary as hell. My capitalist-patriarchical conditioning and trauma-wired brain/body are primed to expect rejection when I have needs of my own, when I can’t be of service to others or “productive” in the world. My mind goes blank, my throat closes, involuntarily responses to the prospect of sharing vulnerably.
But staying in that fear, finding the words, sharing the struggles, was ultimately deeply healing.
Turns out, maybe I didn’t want to be seen but I sure wanted to be found. No matter how many times I learn this particular lesson, it still sometimes comes as a surprise that showing up just as I am, messy parts and all, can actually strengthen connections with others. That shared vulnerability can be a gift and not a burden.
There’s a lot to hide from these days. The sense of hopelessness in witnessing climate catastrophe, helplessness in the face of war, injustice, and the erosion of multiple rights and freedoms can be overwhelming. The urge to turtle into the comfort of our own safe harbours of distraction or like-minded ideological bubbles is completely understandable.
But to address these giant crises and their systemic roots, we’re going to have to come out of our hidey holes eventually. Truth is we need each other, and not just those in our comfortable circles. Our existence as a species, our survival and safety, is absolutely tied to one another. We live in relationship, to everyone and everything.
How can we shore up our internal resources, be brave enough to speak our minds and take on the potential conflict and rejection that comes with that? And then stand in our own truth and while holding space for the experience and beliefs of others ? And ultimately find common ground, shared humanity, and ways forward through these troubled times to a better future?
“Being human takes practice”, we like to say at CEC. This week I’m teaching a meditation retreat for teenaged humans with Inward Bound Mindfulness. The practices I’m leaning into right now, and sharing with the teens this week, are made for these times. We’re practicing sitting with uncertainty and “don’t know mind”, softening to other ways of thinking and being. We’re trying to notice our present experience with clarity and equanimity, accepting the reality of now so we can more skillfully shape a future in need of changing. We’re cultivating compassion, for ourselves and others and all beings, so we can communicate from a kind and truthful place, holding each other and ourselves gently while also holding ourselves accountable for harmful behaviours.
At the beginning of these retreats, we ask the young participants to take “mindfulness trainings”, adapted from the traditional Buddhist precepts. They all begin the same way, “Knowing how deeply our lives intertwine…”
“Knowing how deeply our lives intertwine, I undertake the commitment…
…to protect life
…to take only what is offered to me
…to use sexuality wisely
…to speak truthfully and kindly
…to not harm myself or others with substance use.”
In that spirit, our deepest practice has been tuning into interconnection. We’re paying attention to inner and outer nature, and realizing it’s all made up of the same matter. And if you look back far enough, we’re all descending from common ancestry.
These meditating youth give me hope. They have language and skills and self-awareness levels that I didn’t even know existed until I was twice their age. Phew. Because we’ll need them to get this big beautiful wounded space rock that we call home back on track. We need all of us. All-y all-y oxen free. Come out of those hiding spots when you’re ready. We’ve got good work to do.
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