Self-reflecting...is not the same as posting selfies....

There's a saying: ''Time heals all wounds.''

It sounds good perhaps, but what does it mean?

 ''Time heals nothing!'' says a distraught mother when she

is interviewed about how to deal with the loss of a child.

''How is time supposed to heal anything when time does

not even exist in the mind? asks a soldier suffering with PTSD.

Good question, methinks. So I have been doing some serious thinking on it. 

Much as we may probably want our lives to be void of suffering

and pain, it seems suffering and pain still manages to find us.

As far as I can ascertain, there is no ''one-way fits all'' method

for dealing with ''troubles'', however, the good news is that there is

much literature available in print and on line that can help us

 come to terms and deal with ''troubles'' when they come our way.

So, back to time heals all wounds.

Does the mere passing of time heal anything?

In my view, not really. I mean, we can throw ourselves into 

working all hours, partying all hours, sleeping all hours, etc. etc.

but in my view that's just like putting a band-aid on an open wound.

(It may look better, but the wound is still there.)

Time may offer us the opportunity to bury our pain, but usually

the pain rather than disappearing, will manifest itself some other way.

There's another saying: ''Wherever you go, you take your troubles

with you.''

We can't out-run, out-eat, out-exercise, out-drink, out-drug,

out-work, etc. etc. our emotions. As far as I can ascertain, the

most helpful way to deal with our emotions is to acknowledge

them, own them, and find the core of their origin.

To do this we may need to do some self-reflection.

Self-reflection, as in: thinking about and reflecting on the way

we behave, think, feel, and act, as well as what motivates and

drives us.

I guess another way of putting it is to ask ourselves: why?

Why do I feel this way? Why do I behave this way?

Why do I think this way?...etc. etc.

Another way may be: Taking the time to think about things, to analyze

why we do the things we do.

Time can help heal our wounds if we take the time to

reflect and ponder on why we feel(/are) wounded.

Taking the time to ponder why we feel wounded offers us

the opportunity to examine and if needs be, re-evaluate our

perspective.

I know, it seems like a lot of hard work.

It is probably a lot harder than blaming all one's troubles on

circumstances and other people, but in my view, there are

some wonderful benefits to practicing self-reflection:

 a strong sense of knowing who You are, what Your core values are, 

understanding that You are in charge of what You feel, think, and do.

Not to be confused with self-centeredness however.

A self-centered person considers his or her views/opinions/perspectives only,

a self-reflective person reflects on his or her perspectives in order

to better understand others perspectives. 

(By examining ourselves we become better at appreciating

that other people have their own thoughts and feelings.)

''Self-reflection entails asking yourself questions about your values,

assessing your strengths and failures, thinking about

your perceptions and interactions with others,

and imagining where you want to take your life in the future.''

(Robert L. Rosen)

''Self-reflection is the gate-way to freedom.''

(Dzigar Kongtrul Rinpoche)

''Time can help heal our wounds if we take the time to

reflect and ponder why we feel that we are wounded.'' (Citizen Z)

about the image: ''self-reflection is not tweeting about yourself''

pencil and biro on paper edited in photoshop

Want to change your life? Try changing your perspective.....

 The first time it happened, my son had just turned one.

I suddenly woke up in the middle of the night, my heart racing

and with an awful feeling of dread.

Somehow I just knew that my son's life was in danger.

As I flung open the door to his room, I found him sitting up,

blue in the face and chipping for air.

He obviously couldn't breathe properly and I could see that his

condition was serious. I scooped him up, threw on some clothes,

ran down to the car, fastened him in his car seat, and then took off 

for the nearest hospital.

When we arrived at the emergency, my son's face was purple,

he was barely breathing and with his limp body in my arms

I just began yelling Help! at the top of my lungs.

Someone came (I can't remember who), my son was laid down on

gurney, an oxygen mask was placed over his face, and he was

whisked away behind flapping doors.

My arms were shaking, my heart furiously beating, and suddenly 

I had a flashback of the time when my brother had been rushed to the

emergency, blue in the face and unable to breathe.

I sat down on one of the very uncomfortable plastic chairs in the

emergency room and began waiting.

Something very strange happens to time when one is anxiously

waiting in an emergency room. Somehow time seems to manage

to stand still, slow down and speed up simultaneously.

So.....all I can say is that time passed and that eventually a nurse

appeared and asked me to follow her.

I was taken to an operating room and on the table was

my little boy. Helplessly I watched as the doctor tried to

find a vein to insert a cannula in my son's tiny arm.

After a very long two hours, he was finally successful.

I was told to go and wait in the emergency room again,

still clueless as to what was wrong with my boy.

Eventually the doctor told me that my son had had a

severe asthma attack but that he was responding well to the

medication. When I was allowed to bring my boy home a week later,

I was given a bunch of pamphlets on what medication he was going

to need from then on, where to buy a ventilation machine, and how

to be able to read signs of an oncoming attack.

Suddenly, and without any warning, everything had changed.

From then on, once a month, in spite of all the medication,

my son would have to be rushed to the hospital.

What made it worse was that I was never allowed to stay

with him, hold him while they inserted needles and cannulas,

or when he was coughing and vomiting hours on end.

For a child just a bit over one years old, that must have been

absolutely terrifying.

I certainly was for me.

Fast forward six months.

We have moved to the UK in order for my spouse's elderly parents

to be able to spend some time with their grandson, but also

because we have been advised that the climate here could

potentially improve my son's condition.

But alas, only two weeks upon arriving in the UK, another 

severe attack. Driving like a maniac, I drive to the nearest

hospital.

Entering the emergency a soft-spoken, gentle nurse, greets me.

She leads me to a a cosy chair, tells me that everything will

be taken care of and that the doctor will be with me pronto.

''You just keep holding on to your son and try to stay calm,

that's the ticket'', she tells me and then walks away. 

Barely a minute later the doctor arrives, sits down on his

haunches next to my boy, gently strokes his hair and says:

''Let's make it easier for you to breathe son, shall we?''

In a few minutes the doctor has listened to my son's chest,

given him an injection of Prednisone, strapped a mask

with Ventolin vapor to his mouth, and then put

him in a bed in a softly lit room.

''Let's have a chat and a cup of tea, shall we'', he says

and with my son safely tucked up in bed, I follow him

as he gently ushers me out of the room.

For half an hour he talks to me about Asthma,

about a new kind of medication that may make

a big difference, about what to do and what not to,

about what foods may trigger an attack, 

and also that as an asthma sufferer himself, he is

very familiar with the disease and anxieties that 

full blown attacks can cause. In both the sufferer and

the loved ones.

 For the first time since my son's diagnosis,

I can breathe a little.

''Can I sleep in the bed with my son, please doctor?''

''Of course you can, and don't worry, I will look in on you and

your son all through the night'', he says and then walks away.

I climb in next to my boy and gently hug him.

But I can't sleep. I am still too anxious.

In the corner of my eye I suddenly notice a woman with a child

in her arms sitting in the room across the hallway.

I get out of the bed carefully and walk across to the room.

''Hello.''

''Hello.''

''Do you mind if I sit down?''

''Please do.''

''I see that you child is hooked up on drips as well.

Is your child an asthmatic too?''

The woman remains silent for a minute, then

looks me straight in the eyes and says: ''No, my

son has leukemia. This is his forth time on a chemo drip.''

Once again, everything changed.

Well, at least my perspective.

Compared to leukemia, asthma(although a very serious illness)

 seemed like a breeze.

We spent about two years in the UK but we only went back to

the hospital once, because with the help of new medication and 

armed with a new understanding on how to best deal with asthma, 

my son started to get better.

''I cried because I had no shoes,

then I met a man who had no feet.''

(Mahatma Gandhi)

about the image: acrylic on canvas

There's more than one way to live a life.........

 I don't know about you, but sometimes I feel as if we(mankind) are

''progressing''(which ever way you interpret that word) faster than

we perhaps may be able to process ''properly''. (Properly as in

understanding the width and breath of it.)

Sometimes our progress has even had dire and down right

catastrophic consequences which we most probably had not anticipated.

Springing to mind is splitting the atom, plastics, dynamite, 

combustion engines, the internet, chemical and biological weapons,

etc. etc. etc.

Some of us may have found the speed and width of mankind's ''progress'' 

too much to bear so we have headed for the mountains, wide open

spaces, small towns, and far away places.

In search perhaps for more intimate and 

tightknit communities, communities where ''everybody

knows your name''.

Perhaps also desiring a more ''organic and earth-friendly'' way of living 

rather than what some of us may view as a

 ''synthetic, hectic, and technology driven'' lifestyle.

The above image is depicting two women belonging to 

the Mennonites, a Protestant religious sect related to the Amish,

running for shelter during a dust storm.

The Mennonites, much like the Amish, live their lives according 

to their religious beliefs rather than the trends and ever evolving

changes in todays societies.

(Although, some Mennonites have adopted electricity and 

the use of automobiles.)

Somewhere I read (forget where) ''there's more than

one way to live a life.''

Whether we are aware of it or not, may I suggest that most

of us live our lives much in line with a sort

of ''blue print'' buried deep within us.

Something along the lines of: get an education, get

a job, get married, buy a house/unit/property, have children,

raise children, retire, enjoy the grand-children.

Not that there is anything wrong with that, but that blue-print does

not take into consideration losses such as: health, jobs, positions, 

partners, properties, money, loved ones, etc. etc.

Nor does it take into consideration that external and unpredictable

events may actually rip up the blue-print into small little pieces.

''Inevitably, hardships and challenges will be part of life's lessons;

however, what differentiates people is how they react, respond,

recover and revise their blue-print when in a situation

where their power of adaptability will be tested.''

(Dr. Samineh I. Shaheem)

Let's call that blue-print ''What my life should be like''.

As I view it, from a very young age our

perceptions of what our lives should be like is

heavily influenced by expectations from our families,

our friends, siblings, teachers, traditions, cultural

background, people we admire, and people we usually

hang out with.

If we deviate from the blue-print, more often

than not... in my experience, we will be asked to

provide an explanation for our deviation.

''You're gonna do what??"

Quit school and travel the world.

Become a monk.

Become an artist.

Join the Navy.

Give away all my stuff and go live in a collective.

Become a deep-sea diver.

Become an Opal hunter.... and so on.

Although a blue-print can be helpful, failing to live up

 to it we may feel dismayed, confused, and or even

depressed.

We may battle with thoughts like: I should have (insert here

your expectations) by now, I ought to have.....,

I've let my folks down by not having achieved.........

But here's the thing, life has a way of getting in the way

of ''blue-prints''.

Things happen, unexpected things happen, and we may have

to revise and or adapt our blue-prints accordingly.

We are the choices we make, so if our original blue-print

no longer ''fits'', it may be time to design a new one.

One that includes what we are truly passionate about,

 is important to us, and that which fulfills in us

a sense of meaning and purpose.

''There is more than one way to live a life.''

about the image: charcoal on rice paper

To Be or to Have, that is the question........

 What is the difference between ''to be'' or ''to have''?

If I am what I have, then what am I if I lose what I have?

According to Erich Fromm there are two modes of existence:

To have or to be, having or being.

If we state that ''I have a very nice home'', that is very different 

to stating that ''I am very happy in my home'' as it refers to

two fundamental different modes of existence.

''Two different kinds of orientation toward self and the world,

two different kinds of character structure the respective

predominance of which determines the totality

of a person's thinking, feeling, and acting.''

Put differently: ''to have'' is commonly about possession,

ownership, and or something that is required.

''To be'' is commonly about existence/state/condition,

to be, as in: I am, You are, they are, something is.....

Perhaps one could say: 

Being is about ''animate'' things, having is about ''inanimate'' things.

In Erich Fromm's publication ''The Art of Living'' he

writes: ''That we want to live, that we like to live, are facts

that require no explanation. But if we ask how we want to live -

what we seek from life, what makes life meaningful to us -

then indeed we deal with questions to which people will

give many different answers.''

Most of us have probably said things like ''when I have this, that, 

and the other, then I will be happy.''

Most of us have probably also discovered that when we did have

this, that, and the other, we found new things that we thought 

we had to have in order to be happy.

However, the excitement that we often experience when we acquire

materialistic things usually doesn't last.

Having stuff, it seems, can only offer us a momentary sense of satisfaction

and fulfillment.(Happiness)

We can even become so ''addicted'' to the possessing of stuff that

we ignore our inner selves cravings for meaningful interactions

with others. Instead of spending time with our loved ones,

we spend our time working in order to amass more money,

in order to amass more possessions.

(I am not talking about those of us who work endless hours in

order to meet basic physiological needs for food, shelter and

clothing.)

According to some statistics(forget where I read them) that I came

across, there was an indication that most people who say that they are

unhappy because they believe that they don't have enough money,

may perhaps not be unhappy due to a lack of money, but perhaps

more so due to a lack of self-fulfillment.

Self-fulfillment is not about having, it's about being.

Being, in my view, is knowing who you are and also what you are not, 

it's knowing what your core values and principles are 

and adhering to them. 

''If well-being - [defined as] functioning well as a person,

not as an instrument - is the supreme goal of ones efforts',

two specific ways stand out that lead to the attainment of

this goal: Breaking through one's narcissism and breaking

through the property structure of one's existence.''

(Erich Fromm)

(My understanding of ''property structure'' used in the quote above

is: ''having, owning, possessing structure''.)

So perhaps the quote can be interpreted as:

If well-being is one's goal as a human, then attaining such

one must must let go of the narcissism of having in

preference of being.

Instead of viewing oneself as: I am what I have, rather...

I am what I do, I am what I am.

''Life is problems. 

Living is solving problems.''

(Raymond E. Feist)

about the image: Hamlet pondering whether to Be or to Have

ink on paper

Some wounds take longer to heal......

 In those days it was called ''shell shock''.

A term for something that many

soldiers who returned home from the Great War (WW I)

suffered with.

Though the war was over, for many of the returning

soldiers the war never ended. 

It still raged in their minds, their souls, and in their memories.

Sadly, soldiers who suffered with shell shock were often

looked down upon. Even viewed as if it was a lack of moral

stamina and backbone that was the cause of their illness

rather than their experiences as soldiers.

According to Wikipedia ''some men suffering with shell shock

were put on trial, and even executed, for military crimes

including desertion and cowardice.''

The treatment of shell shock was often brutal, including

electric shock treatment in the hope of ''shocking'' the

sufferers back into their pre-war ''heroic'' selves.

Ten years after the end of WW I, there were over

65.000 war veterans still receiving treatment in Britain.

Though we no longer use the term shell shock, it is the forerunner

to PTSD. (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

Shell shock, some say, was specific to combat experiences whereas

the concept of PTSD has developed to be more

wide ranging.

PTSD is a disorder characterized by a difficulty in 

recovering after having experienced or witnessed a traumatic,

and or terrifying event.

Such as for instance: combat exposure, physical and or 

emotional abuse, any kind of violence, any kind of

a serious accident, serious illness, loss of someone

important, loss of home, experiencing some form

of natural disaster, etc. etc.....

PTSD is a complex condition and it does not

fit into a ''one-size-fits-all'' definition.

Having said that, may I suggest that all of us who

suffers with it have one thing in common:

it interferes with our lives.

My beloved son suffers with mental health issues.

Due to his illness I have had to face many heart wrenching,

dangerous, and absolutely terrifying situations.

( I will not go in to detail as even writing this is making

my heart pound and my hands shake.)

Although today he is much better, every time he leaves 

the house I become hyper vigilant, and 

I have to fight off flashbacks and a racing mind.

Although PTSD is commonly (often) linked with war veterans,

unfortunately that does not mean the rest of us are ''immune''.

Here in Australia, 25% of people who are exposed to traumatic

events experience PTSD.

Sadly, there are a number of myths around PTSD.

Myth 1: Time heals all wounds.

Myth 2: People with PTSD are weak

Myth 3: Only soldiers get PTSD

Myth 4: Everyone with PTSD has faced some kind of dangerous

event.

This is how ''those in the know'' view it:

PTSD can take years to develop, it is an illness and not a

weakness, it can affect anybody who has experienced a traumatic event,

 even the loss of a loved one can lead to PTSD.

''Everyone has a different capacity for trauma, which is 

informed by a combination of risk factors including

neurobiology, past experiences and genetics.''

(SANE AUSTRALIA)

Considering the state of our planet right now,

with its COVID, wars, poverty, natural disasters,

homelessness, famines, refugee crisis's, etc. etc.

will mankind's paramount question become: 

Will it be possible in 20 years for a human to live on earth

and not suffer with PTSD?

I reckon the time has come for us to be kinder and 

more compassionate and understanding toward each other.

''Kindness is choosing to acknowledge and celebrate

the beauty in others, regardless of whether or not they

can find it in themselves.''

(RAKtivist)

about the image: ''Three colours, red, white and blue.''

Acrylic on large canvas. This is an ANZAC soldier

clinging to an Australian flag to help him stand up.

I donated this painting to a branch of RSL (Returned and

Service League of Australia) in Queensland, Australia.