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There is a gift that comes with pain, there’s medicine in surrendering to precisely the experience we don’t want.

I’ve been trying to stay calm and strong for six years now for my grown up daughter. She lost herself in dimensions of reality and a labyrinth of identities and worlds that I can only guess. By osmosis I feel some of her bewilderment and distress.

I have followed every trail of explanation and possible treatment I could find. Some have been dead ends. Worse. The “biomedical model” preached by conventional psychiatry prescribes locking her up for life in a chemical straight jacket of antipsychotics. The “spiritual emergency” possibility is seductive but hasn’t helped. How does one find the way out of the Dark Night of the Soul when identity is fragmented and agency has been hijacked by voices who shout profanities and order to do dangerous and disgusting things?

The most convincing thread, my current working hypothesis, is that hearing distressing voices is the body’s way to cope with overwhelming situations to protect itself from traumatic events or a distressing environment that are more than the nervous system can handle. Neurodivergence increases the likelihood of psychosis: for the most sensitive among us the world is just too much, if we haven’t learned strategies to navigate it safely. Think ultra sensitive and precise measuring instrument  that has been hit by a hammer. It takes a while for the parts to organically repair themselves.

I am lying awake in bed at 2am ago by my daughter’s side. She has been relentlessly woken up by the voices the previous nights and is exhausted and upset at what they are saying to her. She asks me to be with her, she says my presence soothes her. I can’t sleep, yet exhaustion is weighing heavily. I have no energy left to do anything else but lie by her side, as a sign I am with her, whatever her experience is. No energy to find meaning or solutions. Just a total acceptance that this is the reality at 2am: mother and daughter awake. Daughter bullied incessantly by voices in her head. Mother holding space, without any idea of what to do or what to say, so not doing or saying anything.

No energy to resist the pain of seeing my daughter suffer. No energy to pre-empt what the voices might order her to do. Completely unguarded, at the mercy of whatever might happen next. She might stand at the balcony of the hotel and shout back at the voices, waking up all the guests. She might not be able to resist their insistence that she gets up and walks naked in the streets, or maybe even swims in the glacial river we can hear.

No intellectual resources to list all the possible steps and actions I could follow to create safety or relief for her and resilience for me.

No energy to do anything but accept that is how it is and surrender to it. 

And at that very moment of “I give up” calm appeared. 

We spent the evening with old friends. I was tired but their cheer and natural inclusion of my daughter in spite of her acting different nourished me. And at 2am I let all their love touch me and cried. I was on my last knees and warmth had been given. I felt into the discomfort of being so vulnerable and in such desperate need of support. Maybe it was pride but it felt more like being naked and not knowing whether that nakedness and utter vulnerability would be taken advantage of or would meet support.

I felt as helpless and clueless as a newborn and as appreciative of the warmth as a newborn is for the mother’s milk.

It felt simple. I cried. I felt my heart breaking open and feeling into all the acts of kindness I had closed myself to to protect myself. All the beauty around me. I felt life wanted me to be alive and take in all the gifts it had for me, as one gulps water to quench the thirst after walking in the desert.

Cracks are where the light comes in.

I felt incredibly supported. Life sent me pain but also sent me infinite resources. It took me being pushed to my limits to be able to open up to every once of kindness, beauty, support that come my way.

Today the light has an extra sharpness. People look so much more beautiful.

Watching a torrent follow its course that morning I feel I can trust blindly life’s process. Pain, joy. Water hits rocks, rocks are polished after years of water flowing. The edges of obstacles are polished and rounded. Water flows around them.

It’s vulnerability that hurts us. But it’s also vulnerability that heals us and opens us up to Life’s abundance. 

May we become better at creating safe spaces for each other so we can show up naked and heal. 

As I flew over Bangladesh in July 1992, my 23 year old self was excited at the thought I was finally about to find my purpose in life. I had grown up in the French rural region of Normandy, with undulating hills and fields filled with cider apples, horses and dairy cows. I had gone to Paris to study and had landed in an elite French business school, much to everyone’s surprise, including my own. I was idealistic. Gandhi was my hero, India the country I most wanted to explore and I found it difficult to reconcile these longings with what was expected from me as a business student. On that summer evening I was on my way to Dhaka to do an internship at Grameen Bank, a rural bank that gave very small loans to poor women.  It had already made waves in the international debate on development as it shifted perceptions away from straight giving to empowering people to help themselves. I couldn’t have found anything closer geographically and in spirit to following in Gandhi’s footsteps. And I was desperately hoping that my newly acquired business skills might have some relevance and that I would finally find a place for myself in the world.

From the plane Bangladesh looked airily dark. People in the villages still used mainly oil lamps and it would have been easy to believe there was no-one there. Yet Bangladesh already had over one hundred million people on a surface a quarter that of France. How they could live on what is effectively the estuary of two mighty rivers, the Ganges and the Brahmaputra, whose tempers are notoriously unpredictable and change the land map regularly, was in itself a miracle. 

Stepping out of the aircraft I was embraced by warm tropical air, with whiffs of oil, rotting fruit and the sweet fragrance of frangipani flowers. The airport building itself was a large shed, officers in dishevelled khaki uniforms had all the time in the world to assert their power on arriving passengers. I was wearing the pink salwar trousers I had bought the year before in Pakistan and a blue tee-shirt. Bangladesh is a Muslim country and modesty of dress is required.

I was to spend first a couple of days with Ibrahim and his family. My mother had met him through work she did with an NGO in Bangladesh and he had become a family friend. I had visited them two years earlier during a trip around India, that stay had made me feel Bangladesh was vibrant with initiatives of all kinds to develop education, health, income, infrastructure, etc and filled me with enthusiasm.

During that visit Ibrahim’s wife Moni had prepared a chicken biryani I remembered with emotion, such was the refinement and subtlety of taste in spite of the simplicity of her kitchen and her self-effacing way. Their boy had fetched all the ingredients and she had spent the morning in the wet kitchen plucking the chicken, emptying it, preparing exotic vegetables and adding spices I couldn’t recognise. Their flat was simple and devoid of luxuries but the extensive collection of slightly mouldy National Geographic copies in Ibrahim’s office betrayed his worldliness. He regularly travelled abroad to discuss academic papers on solar energy, the subject he taught at Dhaka University. The NGO he had set up installed solar panels on the rooves of village houses to power light bulbs and small fridges, taught village people to grow vegetables outside their house to supplement their rice based diet and built deep tube wells and latrines. 

I had accompanied him on some of his rounds and had been struck by the effervescent joy, curiosity and hospitality of the people I had come across. Women in bright coloured sarees and children in school uniform would crowd around me, marvel at the colour of my skin and want to touch it, ask me my name, if I was married, why I wasn’t married, where my father was, they wanted to show me their house, introduce me to other family members. It was both overwhelming and touching. It was clear most were living practically from hand to mouth yet their houses were impeccably clean and tidy and they would insist on offering me hospitality with pride. They were proud I would want to meet them, and proud to share what little they had with me. It’s there I was offered the best rice crispies I ever ate, prepared by a woman who worked as a daily labourer in paddy fields, blown rice with milk that was still warm from the cow, as she unsuccessfully tried to keep the curious village children out of her one room house.

Ibrahim was waiting for me at the airport. We took a tuktuk to his home. Our excitement at meeting again was mutual. He still demonstrated a love for his country and an eagerness to show it to me that I witnessed over and over again with his country fellows. Yes, there was grief at the suffering of its people, from floods, hurricanes, and many other causes more complicated to explain, but also an absolute commitment to making this young country thrive. It was filled with this enthusiasm that I started my internship.

On the first day I haggled with the tuktuk as was customary to go from my guesthouse to the head office of Grameen Bank in the slightly ex-centred neighbourhood of Mirpur 2. Grameen Bank prided itself on not spending money lavishly as so many international aid agencies did. In the nineties international aid was THE business in town. It paid for expensive consultants, shiny 4 wheel drives and the affluent districts of Gulshan and Dhanmondi buzzed with foreigners busy drawing up development plans from the comfort of their air conditioned offices, or trying to clinch an infrastructure contract with the government, often paid for by their own government in the form of tied aid. All these people looked incredibly important and secretive, they probably didn’t want their ideas stolen then sold to the even more important people who held the purse strings.

In contrast the head office building of Grameen Bank was a simple brick building that only cost a fraction of the market rate because, said Muhammad Yunus with pride, the founder of the bank, no hands needed to be greased. 

Inside there was a collegial atmosphere with a large cantine where everyone ate together.

I was introduced to a few other foreign students, also interns, and to my supervisor, a stern looking man whose role seemed to be to curate our experience so we could become ambassadors for the Grameen Bank cause. I was allocated a desk in a room with the other interns, with lots of reading material and research published on the bank. 

I was also given a programme to go to the villages and see the operations on the ground. I needed to learn enough Bengali to be able to converse at least a little bit with the women there, and I had intensive lessons for a couple of weeks. I discovered a melodious and poetic language, the language of Nobel laureate and poet Rabindranath Tagore. The boy in my guest house kept asking me if I could help him find a job in my country, yet he had tears in his dark soft eyes when he sung to me the national anthem of Bangladesh, written by Tagore, which is all about how the skies of Bengal make the heart sing like a flute. Quite a contrast from the French national anthem with its strident call to arms.

I had set myself two missions to test my possible contribution to development work. One was to offer my marketing skills to sell Grameen Check internationally, the thin striped cotton handwoven by village women that was so resistant and comfortable in hot climates, and I was going to write my third year thesis on the bank’s financial sustainability.

At business school I had thought that of all business areas marketing seemed to offer the most promise for me. Short of saving the world there was at least an element of needing to understand people of different countries and cultures and understanding how a service or a product could be useful or meaningful to them. In a practice interview with an older business school student I had said I wanted to work somewhere with soul and purpose. His reaction was so filled with incredulity at my naivety that I felt ashamed at not wanting to have a regular well-paying career in a regular company like everyone else. His message was clear: I needed to pretend to be what I thought a potential employer might want. I wondered how on earth I’d manage to not only blend in the business world but survive in it. Maybe through my experience at Grameen Bank I could discover how I could use business skills for a greater good. I hadn’t spent a few years at an elite French business school being told how great we were without being imprinted with the belief that we knew a thing or two about managing organisations that others would be grateful for.

A decisive moment was coming up: a one on one meeting with Yunus, the founder of the bank, every intern had a chance to meet him personally. He and the bank hadn’t received the Nobel Peace Prize yet, that would only come 2006, but there was no doubt he was a big deal. I had already met him two years earlier with Ibrahim, his brother, at a small family party. I was too awe struck to engage much in conversation. This time I felt I couldn’t let the opportunity slip, but also that I had more to contribute. 

Finally after a week the big day arrived. I was nervous when I entered his office but was met with sharp, direct and friendly eyes. The room was simply decorated. There was a frame on the wall with the PhD in economics he received in America. There were photos of him talking with Bangladeshi women borrowers of the bank and a photo of his family on his desk. He enquired about my mother, he remembered she was involved with work in Bangladesh.

He laid out the purpose of the internship programme and how Grameen bank was inspiring other micro credit projects around the world. He went to explain how in the absence of any government grants Grameen bank had to cover its own costs, just like the borrowers had to invest into productive assets to be able to reimburse their small loan with an interest, and how the bank had created businesses to fulfil the needs of its borrowers. It had recently started a nursing school funded by school fees paid by the students, mostly children of poor village women who had borrowed small sums from Grameen bank. Yunus explained he had a rule that a new business had to break even within the first two years or it would close. I couldn’t help but reflect on how the entrepreneurial spirit and courage shown by the borrowers and the Grameen businesses seemed much greater than what I had seen at business school. Most of my fellow students were destined to safe well-paid careers with large companies.

Eventually, I found an opening and enough confidence to present my projects: helping Grameen bank sell Grameen Check around the world and carrying out an audit on how financially self-sufficient the bank really was.

His face showed no expression and he didn’t respond right away. A niggling doubt appeared inside of me.

Eventually his response came crushing like a wave: “You are very welcome in our country, and very welcome to learn more about Grameen bank. You are invited to watch and ask questions. Your help is not needed.”

The tone had remained friendly but the message was clear. No foreign interference was tolerated, nor was any arrogant belief that I had the vaguest idea about what was needed or that indeed I had the power to do anything helpful. I felt acutely how young and ignorant I was, talking to a man in his fifties who had lived through wars and lifted mountains, and how even younger I looked. 

I don’t remember how I managed to extricate myself and my shame from his office, but I do remember following his advice to the letter: for the following weeks in Bangladesh and indeed for much of my life I tried to first watch and ask questions, long before wondering if I could be of any help and whether my help was welcome. It certainly cured me from thinking I could arrive with ready-made solutions to any new situation and taught me not to underestimate the resourcefulness of people, no matter how illiterate or poor they may seem.

It took me a few days to digest what he said, even though it was brief. It took me longer than that to fully appreciate where his response came from. To realise that from its birth Bangladesh had been threatened by foreign interference. In the bloody war of independence from Pakistan in 1971 when hundreds of thousands of Bangladeshi civilians died, America supported Pakistan. In the nineties the abundant foreign aid was more often than not allocated by foreigners to foreign companies carrying out consulting or building large infrastructure projects, with little consultation of people on the ground. Yunus had returned from America in the early seventies and found that nothing he had learned in his PhD in economics could help alleviate the suffering of his fellow country people during the terrible famine of 1974, when over a million people died, made worse by the American decision to withhold food aid because Bangladesh was exporting jute to Cuba. He and a few others found that small loans were lifesavers to poor people wanting to start a small business to feed their families. They were prey otherwise to loan sharks who expected a reimbursement of twice what they had borrowed, and banks didn’t lend to people without collateral. This flew in the face of conventional thinking in the world of international development, where “poor people” were considered to have so few resources that it was Western countries’ duty to give them what they needed, and more often than not tell them what they needed. That Grameen Bank went as far as charge 18% interest on loans to the poorest of the poor to pay for its high administration cost of having officers in every village where it operated – that was shocking and many people protested in international aid agencies.

My visits in the villages around Tangail and Jamalpur gave me the opportunity to hear the stories of many women, their personal tragedies, how floods had swallowed their land, how disease had taken away family members. And yet they kept going, they had dreams, children kept laughing. I was struck by how the loans given out by Grameen bank and other local institutions relied on the strong sense of community: borrowers were bound together. If one defaulted, the others wouldn’t be able to borrow any more. That feeling of community could be felt everywhere, in a village everyone knew each other and looked out for each other. One day I was alarmed when I heard the shouts of a man being beaten up by several others. A Grameen bank officer explained that he had stolen some chickens and the villagers were punishing him for it: even local justice was dealt with by the village. I particularly remember one woman, over the years she had built a prosperous shop thanks to several Grameen bank loans, she commanded respect. I found her a bit scary but also felt she was a great role model for the women who were new to running their own business.

I had come to Bangladesh unconsciously fancying myself as a saviour and had been wrong footed and humbled. I hadn’t expected the sheer vitality of some people who had nothing and for whom every day was a question of survival. Instead of falling into deep depression and inaction, they seemed intensely alive, keenly attuned to their environment, like a wild animal who needs to secure its next meal to survive. I remember in particular a young teenage boy called Salim who used to hang around the Sonargon, one of the two top hotels in Dhaka. He would invariably appear and ask guests “change money?”, “taxi?” with such twinkling dark eyes and a disarming smile that it was difficult not to like him and give him the occasional order, which he always delivered with prompt alacrity as if his life depended on it. And it probably did.

When I returned to Paris I was struck by the morosity and the resignation of people in the underground and the streets. I missed the huge skies of Bangladesh, the clouds reflected in the paddy fields, the aliveness, the colour. I still didn’t really know what my path was, but I knew that if I kept observing and asking questions something would turn up.

Note: Yunus has been convicted in 2023 to 6 months in jail for violating labour laws. The sentence has been decried by supporters around the world as politically motivated. He is currently on bail pending appeal.

This piece was written as part of a writing workshop entitled “Parables of Change”, run by David Alder. Feedback is very welcome, on jennydawatt@gmail.com.

True Prosperity


(Transcribed from a talk by Vivian Dittmar at the Global Ecovillage Network conference in July 2023.)

There are five elements to prosperity.

The first is Prosperity of time. Yet what could be more sacrilege in our current system than waste time? Whenever you feel like rebelling, stop.

The more I slow down, the bigger my impact. Rushing doesn’t work. What works is slowing down and connecting, then we’re attuned to what the ancient Greeks call Kairos, the God of the opportune moment. “Now is the moment to do this, now the moment to do that”. You will reconnect to the natural rhythms. You will become part of the change you wish to see in the world.
We are taught that to have an impact you have to work hard, not sleep.
Give thanks to prosperity of time in your life.
Acknowledge the courage it takes to appreciate it.
Take a moment to acknowledge the miracle that this moment is always available to us. 

The second dimension to prosperity is prosperity of relationships.
It has decreased in our societies, especially with great economic disparity.
We have become increasingly lonely. Powerful dynamics create this loneliness. It’s important to re-awaken relationships, community. We created a system that says we don’t need each other, a system that says it takes care of everything – medical issues, unemployment, retirement, insurances. It created an illusion that we don’t need each other. This is a myth. We can’t soothe our need for support, community, for being held by each other with an anonymous system. We need to learn again how to connect with each other in a profound way.
Our independence has given us the freedom to leave relationships that are toxic. That’s fantastic. But it becomes very easy to just kick people out. So we show less and less of ourselves, we show less and less vulnerability.
Prosperity relationships goes way beyond being popular or knowing lots of people. How many people will be there for you in your life? For how many people will you be that person?

The third dimension is prosperity of creativity
It means you spend a lot of your life in a state of flow. You develop your talents regardless of their monetary value, and you share them with the world. It is continuously crushed in our society because we always evaluate how it can be converted to money. We have a culture where millions of people listen to one person. We created this illusion that we don’t need other people’s talent. Hitting a button and hearing an artist is a completely different process from me singing or listening to someone else singing. We need all creativity and everyone’s talent.

Acknowledge the courage it takes to show up.

Feel gratitude for when you do things in a state of flow, whatever it is.

Time, relationship and creativity are connected. We need relationship and creativity to enjoy time. We need time to enjoy relationship and creativity.

Inside the triangle: there’s prosperity of spirituality. It is one of the most challenging to put words to. Yet in every traditional culture it will be in the centre and cultivated actively. Inner connection to the Mystery, the miracle, the wonder of this life. We need Ritual and Practice to cultivate this Wow connection. We need to cultivate it to return to sanity. Without it we lose our sanity.

The final one is ecological prosperity. You might ask “could that be the economy?” It is a complete illusion. Like all other species, we are contained within the ecosystem. It is an illusion that the economy is a mysterious magical thing that is separate from the ecosystem.
Everything is about re-connecting: to ourselves, to our talents, to others. We also need to re-connect to all beings on the planet, build relationships that are respectful, sustainable, and acknowledge the needs of everything.
It is one of the most painful dimensions for me. It has been so violated by us. Joanna Macy’s Work That Reconnects acknowledges that pain. Some laugh at it, dismiss it as “Weltschmerz” and ask “do you have nothing better to do than wallow in pain?”

What is challenging is that we’re all born in the industrial age. We don’t know how to live outside of the bubble of the industrial system. There are limits to changing the system on our own. Ecovillages are places to explore this, they are laboratories, innovative hubs, at the cutting edge of research. But even with an ecovillage there are limits to what can be done.

These five elements of Prosperity give a language to talk with people who don’t understand what this is all about.

I remember the first time I was invited to recite a mantra. It was at a yoga class in Hong Kong, I was in my early twenties and thought the yoga teacher was out of her mind, as if she had asked us to say “abracadabra” and expect to see bunny rabbits pop out of a hat.

So it is rather ironical that thirty years later I find myself chanting a healing mantra for 11 minutes every evening, and invite a few others to join me every month. 

I got to mantra very gradually. After my first daughter arrived I was on the look out for anything that could give me more energy. I learned Reiki, level 1 (sending healing energy to oneself or to someone who is present in the room) and level 2 (sending healing energy at a distance). We learned symbols and mantras associated with every symbol. My rational mind had failed to give me the back-up I needed and I was willing to venture into more unconventional practices. It worked. In particular, I remember performing reiki on myself after we arrived in Canada from Malaysia, a 16 hour time difference, and feeling hardly any jetlag. I don’t have a formal reiki practice now, but I regularly practice it on myself when I lie down and I used to practice on my daughters when they were small enough to cuddle in bed with me.

I must have felt the need for a practice that could help me find peace of mind, I soon after learned Transcendental Meditation (TM). I was given a mantra that was mine only, that I chanted in my head for 20 minutes and that I wasn’t allowed to repeat to anyone. It seemed quite reasonable to me to focus on a word, in a way it could be any word, but I had no objection to be given a secret word. Some meditations focus on a candle, others on the breath, why not on a word. I never tried with another word, a bit in the same way I don’t deviate too much when given a recipe. Other steps might work too, but if something has been tried and tested I am happy following other people’s foot steps to get the desired results – in the case of meditation a calm mind-. It worked too. I practised TM once or twice a day and encouraged some of my friends to try it too.

Life got faster paced, I lost my centre and finally had a break down in my early 40ies. My life made no sense, I had been living for others and had completely lost touch with who I was. I looked for a modality that could help me. When I tried a kundalini yoga class I felt such love I wanted more of it and decided to explore it further. I have been practising if every day since, we’re in 2023 so it’s been twelve years now, training to be a teacher in the process. It is a lifeline, part of my daily routine in the same way as brushing my teeth, a way to keep a secure connection to myself and the universe.

The practice of kundalini yoga includes LOTS of mantras. Some like Wahee Guru about expressing awe and wonder at the beauty and mystery of the universe. Others like Humee Hum Brum Hum about feeling at one with everything, even though we are in separate bodies. Yet others like Gobinday, Mukanday, Udare, Apare, Harian, Karian, Nirnamee, Akame about bowing to the cycle of Life and Death and surrendering to it in trust without any expectation. It is about devotion to something so much bigger than us we will never comprehend it in our minds, we can just have an intuition of it in moments of grace. I love it. Mantras have supported me for the past few years through moments of deep grief, anger and insecurities. I chanted the Sodarshan Chakra Kriya mantra “Wahe Guru” for 11 minutes twice for a period of 1,000 days, it was said it would “increase my vitality and intuition, and purify my subconscious mind from negative patterns”. My fourth daughter was small when I first started chanting it every morning, she would lie down against me when I sung it, she liked to ask me to put on the music whenever we were in the car with her friends.

It could have been time wasted, but that was a calculated risk on my part. Transcendental Meditation had already shown me that repeating a word over and over again helps still the mind. Associating a word, or a series of words, with an intention, a mudra and a particular breath pattern was just adding a few things to something that I knew by experience helped still the mind. I was curious to see what the effect would be. 

I might be open to trying weird things, I also keep a dose of healthy skepticism: I am prepared to try things out – if they work, I explore further, if they don’t, I explore in other directions. My father was an engineer and modelled great integrity in his thinking. Everything had to be tested and make sense to him, regardless of what anyone else thought, before he accepted it as a working hypothesis. 

The shifts in my life in the past ten years have been dramatic. I feel empowered and aligned with who I am in a way I wouldn’t have dreamed was possible. It doesn’t mean my life is easy, it just means that what I say and do is more and more aligned with what I feel is right. My intuition is much stronger and I feel I can rely on it a lot more. I know to always strive to be calm and serene inside, as that is indispensable for me to feel into what is needed for me and others at any given time. I often have little understanding of what is what and why, but I trust that by being as still as possible, a little voice will talk to me and tell me what is needed at any given time. The more I get out of the way, the clearer that voice is.

So I feel that the Mantra Experiment has been encouraging, certainly positive enough to justify further experimenting. I started the evening Healing meditation in February this year after a kundalini yoga workshop, I was inspired by one of the participants who said she was doing it every day for her father who was unwell. One of my family members has been unwell for a while, it is a cause of worry and sometimes stops me from sleeping.  I decided to do the healing meditation every evening for that person, but also for other people who suffer from the same thing, and sometimes for other people, it depends on the day. The meditation includes a specific mudra, and chanting the mantra RaMaDaSa SaSeiHoHung, which in very broad terms calls on the purifying energy of the sun, the deep inward processing energy of the moon, the grounding of Earth and the surrender to Life’s energy of creation and destruction, with an intention of Healing. The immediate effect is that I get to visualise that person in her shining light, her essence and beauty, and that is a delicious experience. Everyone has a specific and beautiful essence, and it is a heart-warming experience to concentrate on it, feel it and feel it expand in the heart centre. The second effect is that I sleep better. Somehow by repeating a mantra for 11 minutes the brain goes into a different brainwave and the circular thoughts and worries that appear at night and that serve no purpose just get stopped in their track. 

Whether the person gets better or not is yet to be seen, but one thing is certain: every person at any one time has a potential of becoming many different things. If I hold an intention of vibrant health, see the person healthy and joyful, I am feeding into the potential of that happening, actually in a way it has already happened, or the train of events leading to it has already started unfolding. It might be very small changes to start with, shifts so small no one notices, but just like a seed grows without anyone seeing it grow minute by minute, the potential for vibrant health is at work. 

If we’re not careful it is easy to let our worries permeate all our thoughts and focus on the worse possible outcomes. A pinch of that is useful as it mobilises all our resources to stop it from happening, but the mind thrives on drama and it’s important not to let it get away with more than is useful. Anyone who has put a question “out there” has probably experienced that eventually there is an answer. The field/ source/ God has ways of communicating with us through synchronicities, serendipity, signs that could be dismissed as random and not consequential, or embraced as answers. Certainly any sign that comes in response to a question should at least be tested as a possible answer, felt into, played with, until we know if it is a valid answer or not. Similarly, a healing meditation is a communication with the field/ Source/ God, a petition. There may be a reason we don’t yet know about the current challenge, but considering there may be a reason makes it easier to accept and to surrender to the process, trusting it will all come well in the end, if we can just hold present the beauty and essence of everyone involved.

There is clearly an element of trust into what is unfolding. The intention is for vibrant health, but also for everyone to be at peace with whatever unfolds. When someone is unwell, it necessarily creates shifts for the person and everyone around them, it’s a rite of passage for everyone involved. Old perceptions have to be let go of, just like a storm breaks old wood, new elements appear that weren’t there before, just like fresh buds appear at sometimes unexpected places. 

Note: How and why we can set intentions and manifest certain outcomes is a topic in itself, alternative scientists , thinkers and healers such as Bruce Lipton, Rupert Sheldrake, Lynne McTaggart, Caroline Myss have spoken and written about it extensively, I may be brave and synthetise my understanding of them one day. What is certain is that yoga and Taoism have used mantra and mudra for millenia, so something about them must work, even though science is still struggling to make sense of it.

If you wish to join the monthly Healing Meditation (it lasts 20-30 mns in total), please e-mail me here. You can send healing to a particular person, or a group of people, or a place of your choice. 

The documentary was produced in 2022 and is available here: https://vimeo.com/ondemand/drunkontoomuchlife

Watching the 77 minutes documentary “Drunk on Too Much Life” is like watching a volcano erupt and trying to understand why and how to contain it.

Corrina is a young Canadian woman who has been experiencing intense altered states and emotions high and low since the age of 21. She has successively been diagnosed with psychosis, depression, Bipolar 1 among other things, and has checked herself into hospital eleven times to feel safer during these experiences. As her parents tried to make sense of what was happening to their daughter, they made a film about their journey for the benefit of everyone on the same journey and of society as a whole. Corrina’s mother, Michelle Melles, is a professional documentary and media director and producer and made the film as “a complete labour of love” in the hope that it will widen the debate about understanding and treating serious mental health illnesses.  Corrina’s dad, Pedro Orrego, is a seasoned TV writer and producer. As a family they present a lively, deeply engaging and hopeful picture of their on-going discoveries as they explore explanations other than the biomedical model of mental health, which states that mental health disturbances are due to a chemical imbalance in the brain and therefore that the cure is to take chemical drugs to “rectify” the imbalance.

The film itself is beautifully produced, with a sound track and animations interwoven with some of Corrina’s music, poetry and paintings. We are taken on Corrina’s journey from the slow building up of low self-esteem through years of bullying as a child and a teenager that culminated in a psychotic episode while at summer camp, to stays at hospital, through interviews of Corrina with her parents, her grandmother (she encourages Corrina to write poetry), with people who have had similar experiences and now offer peer support, with a martial arts artist, with the doctor and writer Gabor Mate. As her parents quickly realise doctors are not sure about the diagnosis, they notice what seems to help Corrina: writing poetry, being close to trees and touching them, standing in cold water in the lake, being connected to people around her. Corrina tells of the heavy, overwhelming feelings, but also in the same measure of feeling connected to something so much bigger than her. She talks of “a thin line between delusions and insights”. Various peer support people contribute their own understanding of their experiences. Dave Pendenque says that as human beings we are meant to function at different levels of consciousness, and we are meant to be informed by dreams. He notices that in a shamanistic culture there isn’t such a fear of altered states. 

Kevin Healy has heard voices for years and is an active member of Hearing Voices, he uses a puppet called Dave to represent a particular voice. More than any of the other speakers he communicates well the seduction and danger of altered states: “you feel really really alive, you feel all the good parts of life all at once – then you go bloodf”. He points out how the critical voices are the ones that need particular attention, they indicate what the person feels particularly insecure about. We see Healy at the hospital with Corrina as she had a psychotic episode while trying to reduce her dose of medication, he observes that he saw many people trying to get off various drugs, and that the anti-psychotic drug Risperidone seemed the most difficult drug to get off, more so than cocaine and heroin. Corina says her aim is to get off her drugs, except for anti-depressants that she feels are necessary for her stability, he reassures her she will get there, but she needs to go very slowly.

He explains how he uses now “a thousand things” to remain stable instead of drugs. He doesn’t elaborate, but Donna Green, the founder Stella’s Place, gives the answer: sleep, exercise, good food, connection….

The writer Sascha DuBrul stayed many times in locked psychiatric wards, he points out how he has found IFS (Internal Family Systems) therapy useful. IFS considers that every part in a person has a message that needs to be heard, and a role to play, even if this role may need to change. IFS also says that everyone has a Self who is caring and compassionate, and who must be encouraged to play the role of parent to all the parts. He considers altered states as dangerous gifts, that he manages with medication (“now I take drugs to control my super powers”) and just like Green says that to remain stable “is all about the grounding”.

A shift happens in the film when it appears that Corrina “saw” her father’s lung cancer even before he did an x-ray. From being a victim of a cruel disease that plays with her brain, she now appears to be the holder of a gift indeed, which feeds her with creativity as well as psychic abilities. Doctor and writer Gabor Mate validates this: “you’re psychic, you see things”, an unusual departure from conventional medicine which has no place for psychic abilities in their manuals! Gabor Mate’s work revolves around trauma, and his take on Corrina’s experiences are that she is “downloading all the family trauma and pain”, he refers to a period of family life when her parents would fight a lot, and she unconsciously felt responsible. He points out that some people are hyper-sensitive and are hurt by events that wouldn’t touch others in the same way, just like burned skin feels pain where normal skin just feels a gentle touch. He then says one sentence that probably sums up the findings of the film: “my problem with the biomedical model is not that they give medication, it’s that it’s ALL they do”.

The film ends on a positive note with Corrina’s poetry, she writes “recovery is a crooked and bumpy journey, and a series of awakenings”. Her mother Michelle also talks of people being like trees and only as strong as the forest around them. Corrina clearly has a strong resilient forest of supporters around her, and the viewer is left with joy and hope.

Musings on Thomas Hübl’s invitation to consider how we can recognise the systemic trauma symptoms in society and where they show up?”

“How can you recognise the systemic trauma symptoms in society and where they show up?” This is a question we were asked to meditate on after a module of Thomas Hübl’s online course “Healing Ancestor Trauma”. As someone who has wondered why so many people put up with toxic situations, don’t seem to see them and even perpetuate them, I find the subject fertile for thought.

Symptoms of trauma include numbing, dissociation (when we feel disconnected from ourselves and the world around us), chronic stress and irritability, hyper reactivity, addictions (to avoid feeling the pain), feeling unsafe and isolated, struggling to enjoy down time. It is not difficult to recognise several of these traits in a typical “successful” executive. This person is more likely than not to be a workaholic, in an addictive relationship with e-mails and other messages, feeling he or she is in a tough competitive world where only the strongest do well.

Gabor Mate specifies that trauma isn’t an event itself, it is the way that a person reacts to an event, and it may be different for everyone, more sensitive people are more likely to experience trauma, just like burned skin might feel even gentle touch as excruciating. Trauma is the psychic wound that leaves a scar. “It leaves an imprint in your nervous system, in your body, in your psyche, and then shows up in multiple ways that are not helpful to you later on.” (https://drgabormate.com/the-wisdom-of-trauma/)

We can get more specific. Natural rhythms are largely ignored in our society. We are all Yang, with little regard for Yin. When our body wants to slow down, we don’t notice it, and if we do there is social pressure to ignore it and push through. This blind spot probably results from numbing – our own rhythms were denied when we were young, therefore we silenced our need for rest and care and are unaware of it.  My daughters’ busiest times at school were in the middle of winter, with sports commitments, choir rehearsals and performances, school plays on top of the usual academic requirements. More often than not they got sick and struggled through their schedule the best they could. An environment attuned to their needs would not schedule such a programme at a time of year where everything inside and outside of us calls for slowing down. Only if adults were themselves denied attention to their own needs as children could they impose the same treatment on others. In some countries children sit behind a desk up to ten hours a day because of classes then homework. Some thrive on it, and some who don’t develop conditions such as ADHD. 

If seasonal rhythms are not integrated in our lives, it is the case also for life rhythms. Menstrual cycles are largely ignored and PMS considered a curse instead of being seen as the source of deep intuition that it is when we allow ourselves to slow down. A woman who just gave birth is under pressure (internal as much as external) to go back to work as soon as possible, she receives more social status from her work than from her mothering. Not honouring the full gifts of womanhood is a sign of a trauma-induced blind spot. Equally, elders, in some societies the higher ranking people because of their wisdom and the quality of their presence, are often considered as third class citizens, their role as centres of a community often downplayed. Considering a human being’s worth mainly related to his/her economically productive and capacity is to me a sign of trauma: we are blind to people’s intrinsic worth, of who they are regardless of what they do, because we have always been told implicitly by our institutions that our own worth was directly related to our school grades and extra-curricular achievements, then to our salary and titles. The part of us that yearns to be seen for who we are was silenced, and the wound creates a blind spot and stops us from seeing the intrinsic worth in others.

All the aspects of our institutions that treat humans as cogs in a machine are signs of trauma. There is no reason to deny our full humanity other than not knowing we are each exquisitely unique, creative individuals, worthy of being embraced purely for being who we are, because we were never treated as such.

Machine-like behaviour is rampant. This includes workplace practices that are dull, repetitive and soul destroying and that only value workers for their capacity to obediently repeat the same task. Or workplaces or institutions that by default assume lack of authentic engagement and spend lots of resources on control and compliance. Or medical environments where patients become an anonymous number the moment they walk in and a body to be fixed in the same way as a broken machine needs its parts repaired.

Another sign of trauma is how we have allowed corporations yield great power over our lives, as providers of key goods such as food or medicine for instance, or as providers of livelihoods, without questioning their intentions. The irony is that they usually don’t have any, neither good intentions (which could be for instance to supply wholesome food at accessible prices, or provide medicine that helps improve people’s lives), nor bad intentions. The articles of association of a company are supposed to include the company’s purpose, but it is often as perfunctory as “management”, or “producing goods or services”, while including pages and pages on who owns and who controls the company. By default ownership and control become the company’s purpose, giving great power to shareholders over other stakeholders. 

A quick look at Unilever’s Articles of Association reveals 149 pages on who can own what shares and has which voting rights, and nothing on purpose. Yet Unilever employs 127,000 people, had a turnover of €60bn in 2022 and claims that 3.4bn people use its products every day. Its annual report certainly talks of sustainability and other good things, but my concern is what drives the people with power within the company? Is the purpose explicitly to improve the lives of the customers, or to increase sales? Reading the chairman’s report suggests that increasing sales is the priority, and the rest will be accommodated around it and secondary to it, including the maximisation of customers’ well-being, and that feels unsafe to me as a customer.

When organisations hold such power over our lives and the lives of our loved ones, intention seems central and it is a blatant blind spot that should be the subject of a lot more debate. If a person went about their life publicly saying their purpose is to maximise their profit and control and that their only concern for others is purely not to break the law, they would be considered as narcissist, as the film “The Corporation” suggests. Yet a company has the same legal status as a person, and often effectively states publicly that its purpose is to maximise shareholder value. This creates obvious conflicts of interest between the interests of the shareholders and the interests of the consumers, and explains the anger felt by many against capitalism. It is possible though that defining a clear purpose would remedy this, and B Corps attempt just that. Danone turned 60% of its businesses into “Entreprises à Mission” (enterprises with a mission), it will be interesting to see how aligned management has become with their purpose.

The unexamined imperative to increase sales and GDP might be itself a symptom of trauma. Diné elder Pat McCabe often says “You Were Born Into Beauty as Beauty for Joyful Life, and That’s the Truth”. How far removed from Thomas Hobbes’ famous quote that life is “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short”. The first is full of trust in the abundance of life, the second is full of fear of the rapacity of others and of an unpredictable and reliable natural environment. Indigenous people who have lived sustainably for thousands of years rely on a deep connection with their natural environment and a foundational trust in it. Our modern society is rooted in a deep mistrust of others (hence the need for strong laws and legal enforcement) and unquestioned fear of not having enough to live. These are feelings and assumptions that would warrant scrutiny.

Sexism and racism are known areas of trauma in our society. Women have integrated generations of being treated as inferiors (two facts among many: in the UK women only had the right to own property in 1926, in Switzerland women were only given the right to vote in 1971) and often unconsciously perceive themselves as inferior. Studies show that the mention of gender difference before a test at school triggered stereotype threat among girls, even though they didn’t realise it, and suppressed their otherwise strong performance (Damour L., 2016, Untangled, p183). It is tempting for many women to act as men in order to feel accepted and respected, silencing their feminine qualities. It is a sign of a traumatised world that the qualities of vulnerability, sensitivity, intuition, creativity, deep knowing and insight cannot be safely expressed. The #MeToo movement is a sign that women are becoming aware of what constitutes bad treatment and are taking a stand against it, setting healthy boundaries, and sharing collective healing as victims of abuse share their stories and feel heard.

Racism is another area of trauma, well expressed in The Black Lives Matter movement. Further trauma is easily perpetuated every time we treat someone as “other”, and, in the polarised world we live in, renewed hostility towards people we perceive as different and threatening (the rich, the poor, the Russians, the Americans, the whites, the blacks, the “normal”, the “abnormal”, the old, the young…) breads further trauma.

Another symptom of systemic trauma is our culture of addiction. Addictions are a strategy to avoid feeling unprocessed painful feelings. Some addictions are glorified such as addictions to work. When someone is constantly in fight or flight mode and cannot allow their parasympathetic system to engage and bring restoration, they find themselves in a constant state of hyperactivity, whether it be work or sport or socialising. The cost of it is a lack of true connection to people around them, burnout and cardiovascular diseases.

Social media can enable addictions as well, as people feed themselves on stimulation and an illusion of connection to lessen the pain of disconnection and of not feeling seen or accepted as who they are. Other addictions such as substance abuse are well established and fulfil the same purposes as the addictions mentioned above.

Having listed some of the symptoms of trauma in our society it would be tempting to conclude we live in a deeply traumatised society. This begs the question of what would a non traumatised society look like and how can we process injuries to prevent further trauma? My feeling is we are equipped as humans with tools to attend to our trauma, it’s just that we currently don’t realise how important these are and we don’t use them. For one, we have a large untapped capacity to create communities that are safe containers for individuals to feel heard and held, and to perform ceremonies that can heal trauma. Instead of treating every wounded individual as a broken part, situations where that individual feels deeply heard by one or several others are often healing in themselves. A community where people can share freely without fear of being judged is a functional community. A community where all the parts can be heard is a healthy community that promotes the well-being of every individual. There is resilience in such a community. This can be a couple, a family, a village, a nation even. A larger group may use a tool such as a citizens’ assembly, such as the one that enabled Ireland to brainstorm the thorny issue of abortion and reach a legal decision in favour of abortion that was accepted by the whole population because all the points of views and emotions have been heard.

Many thinkers realise now that our machine model of our world has its limitations, our wonderous world has a complexity far greater than any model can grasp. Seeing our reality as a complex system seems much more adapted as a way to relate to it. Complex systems theory sees every moment and situation as different from every other. Our role as actors in this complex system is to sense the system and all its parts to enable emergence, or an outcome that benefits the whole, without any pre-established agenda. Sensing requires deep listening.

I therefore believe that technologies that promote deep listening are the technologies of the future, whether it be Otto Scharmer’s “sensing”, or Hübl’s “presencing”, or Way of Council, Non Violent Communication or the Hakomi method of loving presence, or the Buddhist capacity to be a compassionate observer to one’s own or other’s states of mind and emotions. Deep listening enables us to regulate ourselves and through resonance helps others regulate. As we do so trauma has a chance to dissolve, and we operate no longer from a place of wounding, and of parts managing our life to avoid touching that wound, but from a strong place of Self.

Scrutinising symptoms of systemic trauma in our society is a fruitful exercise in that it brings to light tacit and unexamined assumptions that are more an expression of trauma than conscious intentions that promote life. A culture that promotes work for the sake of work, profit for the sake of profit, hyper activity for the sake of hyper activity might stem more from trying to avoid feeling empty or disconnected, and might benefit from working at feeling its wounds and longings, and remembering its true purpose.

In 2022 I completed a masters in Regenerative Economics at Schumacher College, Devon, UK. It was a one year programme with the possibility to do it all online, or partially online with a two week residential at the Dartington Estate for every one of the four modules. I did it all online as I needed to be present for the family, but I did manage to spend five days in Totnes in March and attend three days of lessons, meet the twenty other students and the teachers, catch up with friends and briefly with Satish Kumar, the founder of the college. The decision to follow the masters was an impulsive one: I read about it at the end of August 2021 in Resurgence magazine and decided within half an hour I was up for it, just in time for the September start.
I am still digesting all the material, but I want to share some of it here, partly to consolidate it in my mind, partly because it feels important to share it. This is the material that most struck me and that I processed the most, there is a lot left out, some I haven’t quite digested yet, it’s possible another student would highlight different things.

The first module was on Economy and Ecology. Coming back to the roots of the word “economy” [from the Greek Oikos: house and Nemein: to manage], how do we manage our household if we don’t know what our household is. As Satish loves to remind us, the science of the household is ecology [Greek: Oikos: house and Logos: learning about]. We need to understand our ecology in order to manage it properly. In “the Economics” Aristotle distinguished between economics (management of the household) and the much less noble chrematistics (the accumulation of wealth for its own sake). Our current understanding of economics has lost this distinction: economics has been reduced to exchanges of money and wealth accumulation, with no consideration for the household – people, trees, natural cycles…-.
The Norwegian philosopher Arne Naess came up with the expression of “deep ecology” in the second half of the 20th century: the notion that humans are part of an intricate web of life, that they’re not at the centre of it but part of it. His ideas inspired the businessman Douglas Tompkins, founder of the North Face and co-founder of Esprit, to buy 2.2mn acres of land in Argentina and Chili and donate them to the governments to be run as national parks.
Many of the sources we studied referred back to phenomenology, a branch of philosophy that originated with Goethe, where lived experience is the foundation of philosophical enquiry. Husserl, Hegel, Heidegger, Sartre, Merleau-Ponty were phenomenologists. Half of David Abram’s brilliant book “The spell of the sensuous”, on our deep connection with nature, is about phenomenology. To be honest, I switch off with phenomenology, much to my supervisor’s despair. I have a resistance to being intellectual about an experience whose purpose is to be embodied. I believe coming back to the heart and the body is what our current way of functioning lacks. I appreciate Schumacher College’s emphasis on experiential learning, such as the deep time walk, or systems constellations, or the social presencing exercises, or the daily minute of silence and check in. But I resonate with the practice a lot more than I do with a theoretical underpinning of such practices. Maybe I missed something?!

A revelation for me in this module was Otto Schamer’s “Theory U”, used in organisation management. Schamer is a German professor at MIT who analysed the capacity of 150 of organisations to react to change. He noticed that the most able ones were those where the leadership was able to listen deeply to everyone’s needs, grievances, longings, and was most able to allow change to happen organically as opposed to using a top down approach. He developed “Theory U” as the practice of “sensing” or “presencing”, ie being deeply aware of everyone’s perception of a situation, without censoring anything even if it feels uncomfortable (the downward line in the “U”), then in “presencing” what calls to happen to answer everyone’s expressed longings, anxieties, etc (the lower line in the “U”, or “going through the eye of the needle”), and then “emerging” with an outcome and enacting it (the second line of the “U”). This practice requires people to be in their hearts as much as their brains, to use emotional intelligence as much as processing analytical intelligence.

The biggest take-away from the masters was systems thinking and complexity theory. For the past three hundred years we have revelled in our capacity to perceive the world as a machine. We see our bodies as a machine, our economies as machines: we believe that if we act on one thing, we get a predictable effect and with lots of specialists in different parts of the various machine-like things in our lives, we can create a perfect life for all of us. The obvious and sad reality is that we haven’t created the perfect life for all of us, far from it.
Systems thinking takes us away from linear, reductive thinking, and into the wondrous world of complexity theory. It assumes we live in an incredibly complex world, that we cannot possibly wholly fathom, and cannot control. If a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil can set off a tornado in Texas (as mathematician Edward Lorentz posited), then reliably predicting and controlling anything with our actions is impossible. Ouch. That seriously undermines all the principles of medicine, economics, management that tell us that if we can just perfect our understanding of the different parts of our body, of the economy, etc, and learn to micromanage them, we will eventually tweak our bodies, our countries, etc into being perfect, healthy, fully functional.

Operating in complex systems require very different skills from what we learn at school. It requires to be able to observe attentively, keep an open mind, look beyond the models we learned, and constantly be creative about what every situation calls for. It means that every situation is different and constantly evolving. In Dancing with Systems environmental scientist Donella Meadows gives pointers to operate in a complex world. She and the co-authors of the “Limits to growth” report presented at the 1971 Club of Rome were the first to look beyond GDP growth figures and ask whether constant growth in production and consumption made sense in a world of finite resources. She points to the importance of feedback loops so that operators know when an imbalance needs correcting. Following that line of thought, systems thinker and Buddhism scholar Joanna Macy was among the first to talk about the importance of making space for the grief and anger we feel at the destruction of species, the pollution, the desecrating of beautiful natural sites, as it is precisely this grief and anger that create the feedback loop necessary to prompt us into action to reverse it. She created “The Work That Reconnects” network in the 1970s, it now has branches around the world and facilitates workshops to empower people to bring about “the Great Turning”, the shift from the Industrial Growth Society to a life-sustaining civilization.

I have since come across Australian Aborigine academic Tyson Yunkaporta, his book, writings and podcasts offer much wisdom on complex systems and how to incorporate that wisdom in our lives.

American First Nation activist Pat Mccabe spoke with us for a couple of hours on zoom on an indigenous way of understanding how to be human. This is one that recognises the sovereignty of all beings, that asks how best to promote life and add beauty (as opposed to how to maximise profit).

We saw how American economist Elinor Ostrom received the Nobel prize in economics in 2009 for showing that groups of humans have successfully managed common resources without private ownership. She carried out her research in reaction to a piece called “the tragedy of the commons” that argued that man is essentially selfish, and is incapable of looking after common land harmoniously. She documented many examples where people managed natural resources in a sustainable way, without anyone particular opening them. An example is the Swiss irrigation canals in the Valais, called les bisses, they still exist and are great walking paths. She explains that 8 rules need to be followed for such common management to succeed, such as a clear defining of the boundaries, a mechanism to resolve disputes, etc.

We have commons in cyberspace, such open source software, or the Creative Commons.

In the same vein and in contradiction with the “survival of the fittest” paradigm we learn at school, Rutger Bregman writes about how humans are naturally kind to each other, as is shown in times of crises.

Schumacher alumni Daniel Christian Wahl was very generous with his time, also on zoom. His book “Designing Regenerative Cultures” encapsulates an idea that kept recurring throughout the masters: that any action necessarily needs to be embedded in individual communities, as opposed to macro changes imposed from the outside. We saw how globalisation brings efficiency, but localisation brings resilience, and the key is to re-establish a balance between the two.

The second module was on economic theory, it asked the question of whether green growth was sustainable and desirable, and suggested alternatives to neoliberal policies. Economic anthropologist Jackson Hickel (author of “Less Is More: How Degrowth Will Save the World”) spoke to us from Barcelona, he argued that though Western economies were cleaner and there has been a decoupling between economic growth and CO2 emissions in the global north, this has been made possible because industries that are polluting and required cheap labour have been outsourced to the Global South. Also, cumulative CO2 is still substantially greater in the Global North, so though China is now the biggest emitter of CO2, America and Europe have contributed more the accumulation of CO2 in the atmosphere over time than China. Tim Jackson (author of “Prosperity without growth”) considers the social causes and implications of our consumerist societies and writes wryly that “People are persuaded to spend money we don’t have, on things we don’t need, to create impressions that won’t last, on people we don’t care about.” “The Spirit Level” by Wilkinson and Pickett uses thirty years of research to show that past a certain threshold of wealth, the more unequal a society, the more it is likely to display ill health, lack of community life, violence, drugs, obesity, mental illness, long working hours, big prison populations. This goes against the generally accepted idea that economic growth per se benefits everyone.

We had a debate on the validity of GDP growth as the main indicator of well being a country and considered alternatives such as the Human Development Index or Bhutan’s Gross national Happiness index, or the Sustainable Development index. We saw every indicator has its limits and is mainly useful as a way to compare different countries, which begged the question of whether comparisons were that relevant, and whether every country or community shouldn’t develop their own indicators to help monitor whatever matters to each of them. The inventor of GDP growth himself, Simon Kuznets (he came up with it during the American Great Depression), said it was a poor tool for policymaking. British economist Kate Raworth preconises to be growth agnostic, ie to focus on other things than GDP growth. She suggests the doughnut model, which enables us to see in a very concrete way how human needs are met such as education, access to clean water, safety, community, while also keeping track of the natural environment and areas of stress as result of human consumption, such as biodiversity loss, ocean acidification, air pollution… We spoke with someone who was working with the town of Amsterdam to apply the doughnut model to the town.
It is worth noting that the widely accepted Sustainable Development Goals proposed by the UN include in Goal number 8 “sustainable growth”: the idea that growth is indispensable is difficult to shake off.

A Basel-based economist spoke of “eco-feminism”, highlighting how the hours of care provided to look after children, the household, the sick, the aging relatives go unnoticed in the economy because they are unpaid, in spite of being as important in number of hours worked, and in the benefits provided.

In a world in flux the 3horizons framework helps with discerning what paradigms and ways of thinking and working are obsolete and dwindling, and which ones need to emerge and be given support to. For instance some argue that one H1 – a paradigm on the way out – is a patriarchal, mechanical, driven by the mind, top down, based on a story of separation and scarcity, power over others way of doing things, while the H3 – a new paradigm emerging- is one of complex systems, driven by the heart and intuition, of power with others rather than power over, based on a story of connection and abundance. We can still see elements of the old paradigm in many places, but elements of the new one are becoming more frequent and are gradually gaining acceptance and traction.

We can’t speak of economic theory without speaking of the role of the government and we looked at Mariana Mazzucato’s ideas on how government has and still can invest in science and innovation, and promote an economy for the common good.
We had a zoom call with Ann Pettifor, a feisty political economist who wrote “The case for a Green New Deal”, she explained how It derives its name from the “New deal” run by Roosevelt during the Great Depression, and proposes that governments takes the lead in investing in green technologies and decarbonisation, and promoting social equality.

We looked at currencies, and a few experiments of creating local currencies such as the Bristol Pound to encourage people to buy local products and services and to insulate the community using it from inflation and currency fluctuations (a local currency was successfully run in Wörgl, Austria during the years of hyperinflation, and some Swiss companies have been using the Wir for nearly one hundred years).

We looked at solidarity economy, with ownership structures such as cooperatives (Juliet Schor argued they didn’t bring about the radical change instigators could have wished for), managing land or resources as commons, sharing platforms (such as time share), the gift economy, as well as B corps, or organisations with a social and environmental purpose as well as making profit.
We came across Frederic Laloux’ book “Reinventing Organisations”, where he argues that self-actualised leaders, ie leaders with a higher consciousness, or a deep sense of service and purpose, can successfully steer their organisation to be in service to all their stake holders, and he gives several practical examples. The one that struck me the most is the Dutch Buurtzorg, now one of the largest healthcare organisation in Holland, it is completely decentralised and empowers the nurses to be health coaches to their patients. KPMG also found its costs were overall 40% lower than those of traditional organisations thanks to the reduced bureaucracy.

In Module 3, “regenerative Enterprises”, we looked at particular sectors and how they can be run according to regenerative principles.
We visited Marina Brown-O’Connell’s Apricot Centre near Totnes. She recently published “Designing Regenerative Food Systems”. The FAO recently wrote that smallholders (less than two acres of land) produce a third of the total world food, in spite of representing only 12% of all agricultural land. At the same time 80% of global agricultural land is taken up by livestock (grazing and growing fodder such as soya and corn), while meat only supplies 20% of our overall calories.
Regenerative farms are a land efficient way of producing food. One I’ve been following is la ferme biologique du Bec Hellouin in Normandy. I had hoped I could go WWOOFing there one day, but they are so successful they stopped their WWOFing programme and concentrate on research and training.
Duncan Law gave us a brilliant presentation on energy and convinced me that whatever house we next own need to be a passive house. I’m also driving a different car that consumes less petrol, and have cut down dramatically on flights!

Charmian Love of the Oxford University’s Saïd Business School looked at the potential for companies to be a force for good and how to accelerate the transition. She talked about “intrapreneurs”, or those people in companies who strive to bring change from within the system, often swimming against the tide. She spoke of Paul Polan, ex CEO of Unilever and his mission to be “Net Positive”, of Emmanuel Faber who facilitated the transition of 60% of Danone’s businesses to be B Corp certified, Yvon Chouinard’s Patagonia which gives 1% of its sales to the preservation and restoration of the natural environment and recently became owned 100% by a trust whose purpose is the preservation of the environment. Charmian suggested a first step for a company to amend its articles to state its allegiance to all stakeholders, not just shareholders,

We looked at participatory democracy and budget planning: citizens’ assemblies (such as Ireland’s decision to legalise abortion, and Taiwan’s gOv and vTaiwan), participatory budgeting and citizens’ reviews (where a small group of citizens discuss a project of law and submit their findings to the population before it votes).

We saw how Nature is increasingly being recognised as a sentient being, with agency and whose rights must be protected. In Ecuador and Bolivia the rights of Pachamama are enshrined in the constitution as much as the rights of any person. In New Zealand the Whanganui River was made a legal person who could defend its rights with human representatives.

In the same line of thought, future generations are also being given legal representation. In Wales the Future Generations Act protects the rights of our children, and their children, etc. Some infrastructure projects have been cancelled because the future generations commissioner successfully objected to them. Other countries with future generations commissioners include Israel, Hungary (though he/she was so efficient it scared other vested interests and the position was cancelled) and NZ.

The fourth module was on “changing the frame”
Anasuya Sengupta draw our attention to our blind spots, and how information comes predominantly from a small number of sources from a small number of countries, ignoring valid information from elsewhere. She urged us to always ask “who is missing” in any conversation.
Felipe Viveros described how an expansion of Mexico City airport was aborted after activists staged a campaign called “I prefer the lake”.
The Common Cause Handbook highlights how emphasising intrinsic values (such as the need for community, freedom, closeness to nature) are stronger warrants of environmental and social balance than promoting extrinsic values (such as wealth, status, power). We considered George Lakoff’s writings on how frames are the mental structure that allow humans to understand reality, and are sometimes taken to be reality. They structure our ideas and concepts, they shape how we reason, they even impact how we perceive and how we act.
We came across Edward Bernays, Sigmund Freud’s nephew, who is called the “father of public relations” because he perfected the skill of manipulating public opinion, calling cigarettes “torches of freedom” for instance to encourage women to feel emancipated when they bought and smoked cigarettes.
In the same line of thought, Joseph Nye wrote in 1990 about “soft power”, about how the US could save itself expensive wars if it can win the war of the hearts and manipulate public opinion in the countries where it wants to have influence.
Rob Hopkins, the founder of the Transition Network and local to Totnes gave us a brilliant one day workshop. His emphasis was on the power and the need to imagine what we want. I personally experienced tears as I literally opened the door on the future I imagined – it was so beautiful-. We had learned (remembered?) how to live in tune with all the cycles of life – circadian, infradian, moon and sun cycles, breath cycles, following a yin and yang pendulum-, plants were part of our environments, whether in towns or not, we knew about rites of passage to accompany every phase of our lives and keep us connected to ourselves and our purpose, to each other and to our natural environment.
Ruth Potts, the course leader, spoke of her involvement in “acts of civil disobedience”, such as when she and colleagues stopped a plane repatriating illegal immigrants, or did a night long sit in at the Tate Modern to protest sponsorship from oil companies.

Many speakers advised us to follow a permaculture course – and not just to learn how to garden, to apply it in all areas of our lives-. A few of the permaculture principles mentioned by various speakers that have made me want to learn more: follow the energy – wherever you get the most traction, whether it’s a place that produces the healthiest plants, or a group of people who are the most responsive, or an idea that gets particularly positive feedback, that’s where our energy should go. Before doing anything, observe: whether a new piece of land we want to work on, or a new situation. When starting something, allow 80% of your energy to the design, and 20% to running it – if it’s well designed, the running should happen nearly effortlessly.

I enrolled in an MIT online course on u-lab with Otto Scharmer but didn’t get round to follow it yet.

What I want to explore next is awareness-based systems change.

Interesting how quantum physicists speak about consciousness.


Erwin Schrödinger is an Austrian Nobel prize winner who research quantum mechanics and had a keen interest in mind and consciousness. He wrote “The total number of minds in the universe is one. In fact, consciousness is a singularity phasing within all beings.”

More contemporary is the mathematician and physicist Roger Penrose, a frequent speaker at the Hay Festival, he taught Stephen Hawking at Cambridge and worked with him on quantum theories. He received the Nobel prize in 2020 together with two astronomers “for the discovery that black hole formation is a robust prediction of the general theory of relativity”.He published papers and is researching the possibility that consciousness is a quantum process, and that the brain’s microtubules experience quantum vibrations.


And of course the Swiss naturalised Albert Einstein was quoted to say a few deep words on consciousness:”A human being is a part of the whole, called by us ‘Universe,’ a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separate from the rest – a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.””No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it.”
“The world we have created is a product of our thinking; it cannot be changed without changing our thinking. If we want to change the world we have to change our thinking…no problem can be solved from the same consciousness that created it. We must learn to see the world anew.””The intellect has little to do on the road to discovery. There comes a leap in consciousness, call it Intuition or what you will, the solution comes to you and you don’t know how or why.”


Spiritual teacher and writer Eckardt Tolle says it in a very similar way.”Your life has an inner purpose and an outer purpose. Inner purpose concerns Being and is primary. Outer purpose concern doing and is secondary.The true or primary purpose of your life cannot be found on the outer level. It does not concern what you do but who you are – that is to say, your state of consciousness.Action, although necessary, is only a secondary factor in manifesting our external reality. The primary factor in creation is consciousness. No matter how active we are, how much effort we make, our state of consciousness creates our world, and if there is no change on that inner level, no amount of action will make any difference. We would only re-create modified versions of the same world again and again, a world that is an external reflection of the ego.”

I like to read the Week-End Financial Times, one of the pleasures of a Sunday with a bit of time. I find the art pages just about keep me informed of the world of arts and ideas, and the main pages give me a whiff of the general and business news, just enough to feel I have an idea of what’s going on.

There’s always a glossy supplement called “How to spend it”, on all the luxuries money can buy you. I like skimming through it, sometimes picking up an idea of a destination that looks enticing, or a fragrance I might want to try, but it always leaves me feeling grateful for all the luxuries that don’t cost much.

There are so many of them. I actually caught myself listing them this morning, because they are so simple, so immediate, so accessible.

Opening the shutters in the morning and smelling in the fresh air, watching the sky and assessing the mood of the day.

Lying in bed on a Sunday morning, drifting in and out of sleep, catching on to fragments of dreams and wondering what they mean.

An unctuous and slightly sweet and fruity porridge for breakfast, accompanied by a strong black tea.

A chance conversation with one of the girls, in an off guard moment when there is no protest, no complaint, just the sheer joy of sharing something.

Otto our German shepherd puppy lying down next me during yoga and making me feel protected.

The brightness of a blue sky and the vibrant green of the grass.

The melancholy of a grey sky and the permission it gives for difficult-to-define feelings of sadness and longing.

A perfectly ripe pear, juicy yet still crunchy and definitely not squishy

A hot bath at night when the body feels all it can do at the end of a long day is collapse and dissolve in it.

The big oak I go past in my runs, and where I stop every time, standing close by, listening intently for any wisdom it can impart.

A conversation with a friend, all masks off, where we blend into each other’s world.

The audiobook of Max Frisch’s “Home Faber” I listen to when I drive – to perfect my German, but the truth is I am completely hooked onto it, and I catch myself driving slower in order to get more of it.

The series “Sex Education”, recommended by Kathy. I love all the characters, and am learning from all of them. And it makes me laugh.

Closing the shutters at night, smelling in the fresh air, taking in one last time all the beauty out there before going to sleep.

Cf kundalini yoga online resources below.

Last Sunday my daughter Tatiana asked me if I wanted to do some ashtanga yoga with her. My memories of ashtanga yoga are of super athletic and competitive yogis and finding it difficult to keep up with the pace. Last Sunday however I felt mainly joy and pleasure at doing exercises I hadn’t done in years, and this inspired me to try and do a different yoga set every day if possible.

For the past few months I’ve stuck to a 20 mns warm up which I know helps me go through the day with more strength and flexibility (not just physical) and a more open and trusting heart. The warm up consists of 2 mns of stretch pose, 3 msn of spinal flex with my hands facing up, 2 mns of spinal twists, 2 mns of life nerve stretch and 52 frog squats to transform sexual energy into healing and creative energy. Then I do either 11 or 31 mns of meditation for addictions (I’m doing that meditation daily for 120 days), and 11 mns of sodarshan chakra kriya (this meditation is my sacred trusted companion for 1,000 days).

The warm ups serve me well, but it is the meditations I have been stretching out whenever I have extra time. The meditation for addictions I did for the first time a few years ago, for 40 days. It helped lift me out from needing people’s approval, and falling into a funk whenever I did’t get that approval. I had broken down not listening to what I wanted for myself, instead working myself to the bone doing what I thought others wanted me to do for them. It was urgent I changed my programming, and this meditation helped me do just that. It’s not that I had become more selfish, on the contrary. More that I remembered to look after myself, which meant I had more resources within me to give to others.

This time round, I am revisiting the same issue – the journey to knowing oneself is like a spiral where every circle goes a bit deeper-. Bundled with the need for approval there are the food cravings. I got over the craving for sugars a few years ago, that took me at least three months of dramatically cutting down on fruit, with cold sweats and feelings of restlessness as I resisted the urge to eat that banana or apple, that I had thought was so healthy but actually was filling an emotional emptiness rather than true hunger.

I am now testing going without coffee, and its extra mid day kick, and without a glass of wine in the evening, and its soothing effect on end of day weariness. I feel the breathlessness and slight panic that comes with not being able to have an addictive substance, but it is bearable. And some days I sail through without as much as a thought for the coffee or the wine. Success is looming! Once the craving has gone, I’ll be able to enjoy the odd coffee or glass of wine and really savour them as a special treat.

The meditation for addiction is interesting. Even when I do it for 31 mns, I never get bored.  Sometimes I find it nearly impossible to keep the mantra in my mind – it’s as if my mind is refusing the re-programming. I find then trying to repeat it very fast helps, as if I was revving up the engine and increasing the speed of the wheels turning. Sometimes I find myself thinking about what we’ll eat for lunch, or an extra item for my to-do list. Sometimes I get caught up in some rumination about people, then remind myself to come back to the mantra. Other times I take off and feel very light, and am rewarded with some insight about Life, or someone, or what I need to do in a certain situation. These insights are gold and in themselves justify the time meditating.

 

I’ve been looking for online resources for kundalini yoga.

Kundalini yoga is a very precise tool, and though most sets work on many different levels, many focus on one or two particular aspects. You could effectively do a different one every day.

The meditations are good at working on specific issues – if followed daily, even for 3 mns every day, I can say from experience that they make a difference, ie you can be your own therapist-.

For written descriptions of kundalini yoga sets, those are the top ones I found. The advantage of a written description is that you can adapt the times to suit how much time you have.

 

I only found a few free good online videos.

For meditations and working on specific issues, I’d recommend Catalyst Yogi .

For actual kundalini yoga sets, here a few people I know, they have some videos available for free: