Don't allow your fears to imprison you..........

Fear.

Fear is a powerful emotion and although at times necessary for survival, if unbridled, it can overpower many other emotions.

Fear, "is an emotional response to a perceived threat" and for the purpose of this blog, I am going to focus on the word "perceived". Whether perceived or actual, our responses often tend to be the same.

Have you heard the saying: "better safe than sorry"? Often times when we feel fearful of something, we have a tendency to react/respond first and then find out whether our fears were legitimate or not. "Is that a poisonous snake? Dunno, but I'm definitely not gonna hang around to find out."

"Better safe than sorry" works well in many situations, especially involving creepy crawlers and hairy critters methinks, but there are also situations when the approach "better safe than sorry" can become a problem. As someone diagnosed with GAD, generalized anxiety disorder, I am quite familiar with perceiving threats all over the place. For someone suffering with GAD, potentially dangerous and threatening scenarios constantly play out in the mind, often beginning with the words "what if?"

"What if he/she doesn't show up, what if I fail, what if I am not good enough, what if I forgot to lock the doors, what if I make a mistake, what if I am wrong", and so on.

Anxiety, often has more to do with the perception of something fearful/scary/dangerous happening in the future rather than something happening right now. 

At this point it's probably a good idea to also talk about worry...is worrying the same as anxiety, for instance?

According to some, when we worry about something, worrying is the thought process that often leads to feelings of anxiety. In my opinion, (as an expert worrier) worrying at times can also be helpful in finding solutions to problems. Some examples: Worrying about being late for an important event, the worrier may give him/herself extra time to get to the event which would solve the "what if something comes up that may make me late for the event" problem. Worrying about running out of gas in the wrong "neighborhood", the worrier may make sure that the petrol tank is never below a quarter,.....and so on.

One person's worry may be another person's anxiety, one person's anxiety may be another person's fear. Regardless of what we call it, worry, anxiety or fear, most of us feel uncomfortable when we experience those emotions.

And regardless of the term we use, what is important in my view, is how we cope with it.

So let me suggest a few things that may be helpful:

*The thing that worries you, or is making you anxious, is it something you can solve?

*Is it something "real", something you know as a fact or is it something you are perceiving to be real?

*What can you learn about it, as in, is there information about it you can get your hands on?

 *Have you dealt with something similar before that you overcame? (Talking here about life-affirming methods such as mindfulness, counselling, etc...not mind altering drugs, booze, etc.)

*Is there someone you can talk to about it?

*Acknowledge your feelings without staying stuck in them; feelings come and go. Change your thoughts and your feelings change.

*Challenge your perceptions by introducing different ones. Are there other ways of looking at this?

*Try to focus on the here and now, when or if, the mind wanders back to the problem/concern/worry, bring it back into the now. Sometimes distracting oneself by doing a simple task of some sort can be helpful.

At times, avoidance may seem as an excellent coping strategy, and at times it may be: "Run Forest, run!" , but as an indiscriminate coping strategy, may I suggest that finding out the underlying reasons for our anxieties and worries is far more helpful. According to those in the know, we are born with only two innate fears: the fear of falling, and the fear of loud noises. All other fears are learned behaviours, and here is the good news, what we have learned we can unlearn.

"You can't always control what goes on outside, but you can always control what goes on inside." (Wayne  Dyer)

"You don't have to control your thoughts. You just have to stop letting them control you." 

 (Dan Millman)

(About the painting. Some people can become so overwhelmed and fearful of life and the world around them, that they create their own "prison cells" in order to feel safe.)

There is more than one way to solve a problem..........

(This painting is a re-interpretation of a poster for the 1957 Movie "House of Numbers". It is painted with acrylic on water colour paper, and I painted it to be part of an Exhibition titled "Cinefiend- a tribute to movie poster art".)

Some years ago, there was TV-show called "Numbers" that I used to enjoy watching. Speaking with my son about it, I told him that I was going to try to buy the whole series, but as I made enquiries, I discovered that it was no longer available for purchase.  As luck would have it, a few weeks later my son stumbled upon the whole series for sale at a bargain price in a pawnshop and he kindly bought it for me as a gift.

It continuously surprises me (though it probably shouldn't by now) just how different things can seem when re-viewing events, memories, situations, interpretations, movies, TV-series, docos, etc. after some time has passed. 

"Numbers", is heavily focused on the premise of solving crimes with the assistance of mathematical equations performed by a talented mathematician.

Now, many years and life-experiences later, and with a different view on the discipline of mathematics, I suddenly found myself wanting to view the TV-series again, but this time, I wanted to try to understand the maths side of the show rather than the drama aspect of it.

It quickly became apparent to me that in order to do so, I had to expand my vocabulary and to familiarize myself with a great number of concepts and terms unknown to me, like for instance: what on earth is an algorithm? Everytime a new problem appeared, it seemed a new algorithm had to be constructed: "Algorithm, a mathematical formula that maps a set of steps for solving problems,"

I decided to turn on the sub-titles to help me catch all the new and un-familiar terms that whizzed by. My thinking was that at least that way, I would hopefully have the correct spelling of the words.

As I watched one episode of "Numbers" after the other, I began to understand more and more of the maths  "language", and the more I understood, the more interested and fascinated I became.

Was it possible that algorithms could be applied to everyday life and its many problems?

Could an algorithm be used as a tool in decision making for instance?

Decision making requires both intuition and logic, and for Brian Christian, author of the book "Algorithms To Live By", the answer is yes, the use of algorithms in decision making can be very useful.

Some of us can find some decisions harder to make than other decisions: "should I quit my job and look for another, should I change my lifestyle, should I buy a "new" car,  should I move to another place", and so on. Decisions that involves a firm commitment with major changes of some kind as a result, often lend themselves more favourably to an "algorithmic" decision making process rather than a purely intuitive process. But, according to those in the know, we still often follow our "gut instinct" (intuition) in preference to logic. Our gut instinct can be very convincing, regardless of any evidence to support our positions. So, what is intuition/gut instinct and where does it come from?

Bruce Henderson: "Intuition is the subconscious integration of all experiences, conditioning, and knowledge of a lifetime, including the cultural and emotional biases of a lifetime." 

If Bruce is correct, then our gut instinct will commonly favour a view that supports our biases and life experiences instinctively so even if the logic tells us something different.

"Would you like to taste one of these Swedish meatballs?"

"No, thank you." 

"Why not, they are delicious. Have you ever tried one?"

"No, but I just know I won't like it. 

"If you have never tried one, how do you know you won't like it?"

 "I just know instinctively, because my intuition tells me I won't like it."

"But if you haven't tried one, is it not just as possible that you may like it just as much as that you won't?"

"I don't care. I trust my gut."

 "Numbers", in my view is an interesting show not only due to the stories/cases, but also due to the complex interplay between a "gut and life-experienced" FBI agent, a brilliant and methodical maths genius, a pragmatic and life-wise father, and a physics /astronomy professor with an open mind toward the "mysteries" of existence.
They all speak their very "own" language, each at times having to "translate" their language to one another, but through the exchange of ideas and ways of seeing, each of them continuously learn new ways of viewing problems, events, situations, and problem solving.
I can't help but wonder if perhaps the creators who conjured up the concept for this TV-series may not perhaps have ever so subtly been trying to suggest an alternate model for problem solving that sees creative thinking, co-operation, and open-mindedness at its core.
The mind boggles.......
Is it not possible that society on a whole could benefit if when faced with a problem we would ask for assistance from a multitude of differently skilled people, from all walks of life?
I believe society would, what about you?

"If people work together in an open way and with porous boundaries - that is, if they listen to each other and really talk to each other - then they are bound to trade ideas that are mutual to each other and to be influenced by each other. That mutual influence and open system of working creates collaboration." (Richard Thomas)

Saying sorry, a bullet or a bridge?........

(The words are to be taken as a sarcastic comment)

Compared to the size of a human, bullets are small, but the size of the devastation they can cause when fired from a gun into a human body (or any other living creature).........is often enormous.

Such small objects, yet so deadly and destructive, well not on their own, but when loaded into a gun of some sort.

Early one morning, 5:30 am, I awoke to a loud banging on my front door. I ran downstairs with my heart pounding, wondering what fresh new hell had arrived at my doorstep.

I opened the door and there before me stood two uniformed, big, and serious looking police officers.

(I knew they were serious because they were both armed with guns, their car had the "juicer" on, and I could hear a voice talking on their radio.)

Without much ado, they burst into my living-room. "Name and address, please" one of them said.

This close-up to an armed police officer was a first for me, and I have to admit, I was quite frazzled.

"What is happening, why are you here?" I asked.  As far as I could ascertain, they were chasing someone who was dealing in drugs and weapons, but they had obviously been given the wrong address. 

Looking around my small apartment, I think they quickly realized their error and just as suddenly as they had shown up, they disappeared. That, I am fortunate to say, is the closest I have ever been to a loaded, or unloaded, gun.

Sometimes I wonder if "words" can perhaps be likened to bullets, perhaps even as "weapons of mass-destruction"?

We say something in the heat of a moment, we know that the words will hurt and possibly damage a relationship, but we "fire" them nonetheless. Whether we feel that we are protecting ourselves or not, once we have fired those bullets (=words we know will hurt), the damage is done, and at times the consequences can have long lasting and devastating effects.

A bullet lodged in a body must be removed for healing to take place, and in my view, this also applies to hurtful words. Although, it may perhaps at times be easier to physically remove a bullet than hurtful words....

In heated discussions, misunderstandings and confrontations we can often "fire away" words like bullets that we later regret: "oh yeah, and you are fat! or "oh yeah, but you are an idiot!" or "oh yeah, but you are a liar!"....etc. etc.

And just like real bullets, the words hurt and cause damage, sadly, sometimes irreparably so. 

"I am sorry" according to Elton John, are the hardest words to say, but I believe they go a long way in assisting healing after harsh words have been exchanged. 

So, why is it so hard for some of us to say "sorry"?

Well, we want to be "right"....saying sorry means acknowledging that we did/said something wrong.

It can be hard to apologize if we feel uncertain of how the apology will be received: "what if he/she/they reject my apology?"

Some of us may hold the view that saying sorry is a sign of weakness, and to apologize may alter one's status.

In a world of "winners" and "losers", apologizing for some of us may be viewed as reversing the roles: giving an apology makes you a "loser", and the person receiving the apology becomes a "winner".

We all have an ego, and saying sorry can be hard for the ego to take, so pride often gets in the way.

But here's the thing, when we take ownership and responsibility for our own words and actions, apologize if we have said or done something that hurt someone, we show others that we care.

Chances are, that just as much as we appreciate when someone apologizes to us, others appreciate when we apologize to them. 

Bullets, in difference to words, are often final, words however, can be stretched, re-defined, explained, exchanged, elaborated on, translated, interpreted, and so on, .....words,... are malleable.

Bullets?...not so much.

Perhaps it may prove prudent to find a "safety catch" that will assist us in not accidentally firing off "bullets" even in ever so heated situations? Actually, I do believe there may be one: "think before you speak."

In the event of the safety catch failing, how wonderful is it not that we have words that can bring healing: "I am so sorry that I hurt you".

"Sorry is a bridge, not a bullet."  (Citizen Z)

Ever had a "falling down" moment?............

Chapter 6:         Defiance

"-There's something wrong with you, you're not normal" Lina, the school bully said as she pushed Lisa to the ground. Lina, was a big and bossy girl that nobody even attempted to stand up to, not even the boys. Lina, was the boss of the school ground.

"-Get up idiot, don't just lay there!" shouted Lina as she started to kick Lisa. Lisa covered her head with her hands and tried to make herself as small as possible. "I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry" Lisa thought to herself as one after the other kick hit her body. Egged on by other children shouting: "Fight! Fight! Fight!" Lina started to laugh. "No fight here, this idiot doesn't even know how to fight" Lina said and with those words, it was over. They all walked away leaving Lisa curled up in a fetal position on the ground.

Slowly, Lisa stood up. With every one gone, she allowed one single tear to escape down her cheek before she started to walk back to the classroom. As she hang her brand new red parka on the hook outside the classroom, she muttered to herself: "I am not an idiot, they are."

Three hours later, the "end-of-day" school-bell rang. Lisa stayed back in the classroom until everyone had left, then she grabbed her trumpet case off the floor, her schoolbag, and walked across the schoolyard to the music room in the new school building, where she was to have her trumpet lesson. The hallway outside the music room stunk of stale cigar smoke and over-brewed coffee.

 Lisa opened the door to the music room, and there, behind a cloud of smoke and with his clarinet in his hand, stood Mr. Pearson, her music teacher. Although she had never said anything, she always wondered why Mr. Pearson never used a trumpet but always a clarinet to her teach how to play the trumpet.

Usually, he would just tell her to play scales and arpeggios and then duck back into the teachers lounge until the lesson was over, "but not this time", Lisa thought, I want to play something else.

"Mr. Pearson" she begun, "I want to play something else, I want to play either a Louis Armstrong tune, or the slow movement of Haydn's trumpet Concerto in D Major, and I have the sheet music with me for both." Mr. Pearson looked over the rim of his glasses at the little girl standing in front of him, let out sigh, and then said: "Lisa, you are ten years old, you can not play those pieces, to play those pieces you have to have played the trumpet for years, they are far too difficult for you."

"But Mr. Pearson, I have the music on records and I play along with them already, I just want you to help me with some of the notes" Lisa responded and then carried on: "I know that scales are important, but so are songs, aren't they? Isn't that why I have to learn how to play scales and arpeggios?" 

Lisa surprised herself with her outspokenness, she had never before asked Mr. Pearson a single question, not even if he could give her a lift, although he always passed her in his car on his way home after the lessons. Even though it was often dark when she walked home alone from her lessons, or poured with rain, or blew a gale that froze her to the bone, or snow fell that made visibility virtually nil, or other children harassed and taunted her, he had never asked if she needed or wanted a lift.

Mr. Pearson let out a "huh" and then answered: "What do you know about music, you are way too young, stop this nonsense, and start playing your scales" and with those words he left the room, with the door slamming shut behind him.

Lisa looked at the closed door, thought for a second, then grabbed her things and walked out the door.

Filled with anger and frustration she started the long walk home. She was angry with school, she was angry with Lina, she was angry with Mr. Pearson, she was angry with her teacher who never helped her with the bullies, she was angry with herself for not fighting back, she was angry that nobody seemed to understand how important music was to her and how music was her best friend.

Half way home, still full of anger, she suddenly remembered that she had seen a look-out tower once when she was walking home. "That's it, I'm going to climb that tower" she said to herself. She started to look for it and before long, there it was. To get to it, she had to climb a very steep hill, through a forest of trees, over unfriendly rock formations, but she was still so angry that she barely noticed any of the obstacles. Finally she stood beneath the look-out tower. She left her schoolbag on the ground, grabbed the trumpet case, then with much effort she climbed the tower. Not until she finally stood on the platform of the tower, did she realize just how high the tower was. Standing close to the guardrail on the tower, she looked down on the ground, lifted her trumpet case, and then with an angry scream, she hurled the trumpet case to the ground. Sparkles of metal glimmered like little start bursts as the trumpet broke apart and pieces scattered every which way. Finally the anger that Lisa had felt dissipated. She climbed down. Back on the ground, she collect the pieces, put them in the broken case, pulled the cord out of the hood on her red parka, and tied it all together, then found her way back to the road.

  With her schoolbag over her shoulder, the haphazardly held together trumpet case under one arm, she continued her walk home, and although she knew that there would be dire consequences as a result of her behaviour, she no longer felt angry. She felt as if she had found a kind of inner strength that she never knew she had. At home, waiting for her, was her best friend, and its name was Music.

Music; "it hears your heart, it hears your thoughts, it hears your fears, it hears your hopes," Lisa thought to herself as she saw the warm and inviting lights flowing out into the evening through the windows of her home.