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December 8, 2012

Workshop Review: Open Your Heart And Sing with Ida Kelarova

Filed under: UD:TANTRA — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — urbandeva @ 12:59 am

Ida Kelarova
Open Your Heart and Sing

By Thea Euryphaessa

I didn’t want to do this workshop.

Every time someone asked whether I was going, I answered with an emphatic NO ― no way, not interested. Singing? Pah. Besides, what’s singing got to do with Tantra? (The workshop was hosted and promoted by Shakti Tantra.)

Only thing was, my teacher (Hilly Spenceley) wasn’t having it. In fact, I’ve never known her peck my head so much: she mithered me to bloody death. But it was only when she asked the right question ― What’s really going on here, Thea? ― that I finally ‘fessed up.

Fear.

Ugh.

Then it all came out.

My ex-boyfriend had ripped the piss out of my singing. Admittedly, I’ve never been able to hold a note (not that that’s ever stopped me). But I couldn’t even hum without him saying something sarcastic about my apparent tunelessness. His tactless jibes had filled me with insecurities and, consequently, curbed my crooning. Now, singing made me feel stupid and fearful.

Prior to this, however, I’d always given singing a go. In primary school, I sang hymns every morning in assembly. I grew up next to a church which had a famous gospel choir and, as a teenager, could often be found in there singing, clapping, swaying to the rhythm. In secondary school, my English teacher, Jules Gibb, taught us the African National Anthem ― N’Kosi Sikeleli ― to celebrate the release of Nelson Mandela. I still know all the words off by heart. Jules also set me on the path to becoming a writer ― she freed my voice in more ways than one. And Michael Meade (storyteller, mythology teacher) had us singing tribal songs for hours on end, high up in the Santa Cruz Mountains, beneath the light of the moon at a retreat I did back in 2010.

It’s funny, but I remember saying at Ecstasy ― Shakti Tantra’s fifth and final workshop of the Women’s Training Programme ― that surely this had to be it? Surely we’d looked in all the dark corners, unearthed everything that needed unearthing? No stones left unturned and all that.

Oh, how I regret opening my big mouth. Because when I opened my big mouth and started singing at Ida Kelarova’s ‘Open Your Heart and Sing’ workshop, the penny dropped as to why I absolutely had to be there.

Part of my Tantra journey is about recovering those fragments of myself I’ve lost along the way ― a physical ‘re-membering’. At times I’ve felt like Humpty Dumpty, gathering up numb, broken, unloved body parts, putting myself back together again. But there was one area I’d completely overlooked: my voice.

After all, what’s the point of doing all this Tantric work, all these workshops, if you can’t access and express your True Voice? And before you even think about saying you have no problem expressing your authentic voice, think again.

As a writer, I spend all day, every day mouthing off (albeit via a keyboard). In fact, it’s one of the very clever reasons I gave as to why I didn’t need to do Ida’s workshop. I’m in touch with my ‘voice’, I said. No problems here. But Ida’s work isn’t just about singing ― it’s about accessing and expressing your True Voice. Not the up-in-your-head voice with its plethora of excuses, dexterous diction, and cleverly crafted comments.

That’s the place where, if I’m not careful, I can retreat into and hide out. Tantric work bypasses that (thank God), which is why I do it. But so does Ida’s.

You see, it’s not about making you a better singer (which is why it doesn’t matter if you can’t hold a note even if your life depended on it). Ida’s work ― from my perspective, anyway ― focuses on taking your breath, your voice, all the way down into the depths, down, down, down, all the way down into feeling and, further still, touching the void, hold it there… keep holding… (squirm baby, squirm)… and breathe. Cue coughing/tears.

Welcome to your True Voice.

As you journey down into the depths, down into discomfort, down into the rawness of your feelings ― anger, sadness, fear, pain, joy, love ― you’ll be stripped bare. Pathways will be cleared, old hurts will surface, but a more authentic you will emerge. And that’s one of the many things I liked about Ida ― that she doesn’t tolerate bullshit or falseness. And because English isn’t her first language, she has no time for incessant waffling, life stories, and talking round the houses. All she wants is a short, honest answer to the question she’s asked (“Why do people complicate everything? It’s simple!”).

Which brings me to another point: while you’re in the workshop, it might look like you’re ‘only’ doing some singing, a few breathing exercises, bit of group sharing ― no big deal. But don’t be fooled. A week later and several songs have got under my skin and are still going round and round in my head. Not just that, but something was stretched, expanded, something was purged and there’s no going back to how it was before Ida’s workshop. Yes, something I’d been (unconsciously) holding back was definitely let go of. Released.

I also liked the fact we didn’t know what we were singing about (all the songs were in Romani), because that would’ve pulled us out of genuine authenticity ― away from our True Voice ― and into performance mode. But Ida’s work isn’t about putting on a good show, a happy face, saying the ‘right thing’. It’s about getting real with yourself and feeling the vitality of the emotion, voicing the fullness of your power. It’s about clearing the blockages that hold you back, keep you small. It’s about having the courage to be vulnerable, the willingness to be exposed.

It’s about taking the breath of life and using is as a key to open your heart and sing.

***

Ida Kelarova’s next workshop will be 3-5 May in Cornwall, UK. Visit Shakti Tantra’s website for more details.

Visit Ida Kelarova’s website here.

July 14, 2011

Sacrifice of Innocence

Filed under: Archetypal Psychology,Personal Thoughts — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , — urbandeva @ 11:00 pm

Sacrifice of Innocence


“It’s not your job to like me — it’s mine.” — Byron Katie

This blog continues on from my previous post ‘The Rise of the Green-Eyed Monster’ which I wrote out ‘white hot’ so to speak. Thing with me, is, I like to get my thoughts and feelings out on paper (or on the screen) first, and then sit back and reflect on what I’ve said. It’s a process I call ‘seed sorting’.

What I’ve decided to do with this post, however, is share an excerpt from one of my favourite books ‘The Feminine in Fairy Tales’ by Marie-Louise von Franz. I was drawn to this book after writing my previous post and opened it at just the right place. I’ve already read it a couple of times, but it’s one of those books which is chock-full of wise insights and astute psychological observations.

I also found myself listening to one of Michael Meade’s lectures again and it was his words, too, that have also helped me make sense of the transition/growth I’m currently experiencing. I’ll speak more about what he had to say in my next blog but, suffice to say, it was his words ‘sacrifice of innocence’ which jumped out at me and helped me spot my own idealistic and often self-righteous nature (aka my shadow) regards certain issues.

For now though here’s the excerpt from ‘The Feminine in Fairytales’ which I’ll allow to stand on its own here, and comment on further in my next piece:

[This piece is a commentary of the fairytale ‘Vasilisa the Beautiful’ (similar archetypal motif to Cinderella and Psyche’s predicament in Apuleius’ tale, ‘Amor and Psyche’), the full version of which can be read here.]

The merchant then marries the witch with the two daughters, three jealous bitches who persecute the girl. This is an archetypal motif: where the pearl is, there is also the dragon, and vice versa. They are never separate. Frequently, just after the first intuitive realisation of the Self, the powers of desolation and darkness break in. A terrible slaughtering always take place at the same time as the birth of the hero, as for instance the killing of the innocents at Bethlehem when Christ was born. Some persecuting power starts at once to blot out the inner germ. Outwardly, it is often that the innermost kernel of the human being has an actually irritating effect upon outer surroundings. Realisation of the Self when in statu nascendi, when only a hunch, makes a person unadapted and difficult for those around, for it disturbs the unconscious instinctive order. Jung often said that it is as if a flock of sheep resented it bitterly that one sheep wanted to walk by itself.

In Germany, group psychology experiments have been made with hens and other birds. Hens and crows, for instance, observe a certain pecking order. There is the rooster, and his first wife, who has her first rights. The others have special rank in the order in which they may eat and build their nests. Most animals, and also apes, have an order which one calls the alpha, beta, gamma order. Some psychologists say that in a human group, or in a crowd, people also try to peck each other. The alpha hen is generally the most disgusting and pushy person, and the best in I.Q. are the gamma and delta hens. Clearly, wherever people form a group, there is this interplay of unconscious balance; however, if any one person gets just an idea of the Self, he falls out of the group, and the balance has to be re-established. Now that one factor is out, the others feel the gap and are naturally angry and try and force the miscreant to the former unconscious level. If you analyse one member of the family, usually the whole family begins to wobble and get upset. Insofar as we are herd animals, we have within ourselves that essential conflict between the inertia which wants to remain in the flock, and the disturbing factor, the possibility of individuation. A woman who gets the first hunch of the Self is immediately attacked, not only by the stepmother outside, but from within, by the inner stepmother, that is, the inertia of the old collective pattern of femininity, that regressive inertia which always pulls one back to do the thing in the least painful way. As in many other Cinderella stories, the stepsisters are characterised as lazy, and the heroine has to do tremendously hard work, such as separating grains, which entails a superhuman effort. There is the conflict between that which calls upon you to make the superhuman effort and the desire to follow the old pattern.

(My next blog will most likely be on my return from my holiday, week commencing 1 August: I’m going off-grid to an eco retreat beneath starry skies in deepest, darkest Spain. Hasta luego!)

:::

To buy a copy of Running into Myself, visit Amazon UK, Amazon US or, better still, order a limited edition signed copy direct from her publisher here (also ships worldwide). Also available to download on Kindle.

“Thea’s personal journey is utterly compelling. I couldn’t put her book down. Thea manages to make Greek mythology not only understandable, interesting, and relevant to our lives today, but shows how it can be utilised as a tool for self development. She introduces ideas and ways of thinking that broaden your mind, and lights the way for others to follow.”

— Melinda Messenger (TV Presenter)

“This is a story that truly reveals its author. You’ll discover her beliefs, her flaws, her loves, her fears, her mistakes, her drive and her compassion.

And you’ll like her.”

— Rowena Forbes (Journalist)

July 9, 2011

The Rise of the Green-Eyed Monster

Filed under: Personal Thoughts — Tags: , , , , , — urbandeva @ 4:23 pm

Please make sure to read ‘Sacrifice of Innocence‘ next, as it follows on from this post.

The Rise of the Green-Eyed Monster

“We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” — Marianne Williamson

I’ve just spent the past couple of hours going back through old emails, deleting, organising. It’s been cathartic. But it’s also been sad and painful. It can be a strange experience seeing the past few years of your life laid out in email format. It’s like the story of your life arranged by date. I started doing it as I feel, on some level, I’m preparing for the next phase of my life. What that phase looks like or what’s in store, I’ve no idea. All I know is ‘something’s’ coming. And so, I’m clearing the decks in preparation.

I think one of the saddest aspects of my email clearout is seeing messages from old friendships that have withered up, died off. There have been times I’ve had to end friendships — never easy. Those who’ve read my book will know I’m one for taking responsibility for my actions. I try to avoid pointing Big Fingers saying it’s all her/his/their fault — that’s infantile and immature. But experience has also taught me that it’s not always healthy to flagellate oneself for all mistakes made either. Yes, there have been times when I’ve ballsed up, unwittingly upset or hurt others. But there’ve also been times when others have been underhand, envious, and jealous towards me and I’ve felt like I’ve had to apologise for that too; like their envy or jealousy is also my fault.

I’m an excitable, enthusiastic person. Although not immune to it, I’m rarely envious of others’ success. I want people to get on in life, do well for themselves in whatever areas make them happy. I reckon this is down to me feeling happy in myself, the person I’ve grown into over the past few years, and am becoming more of with each passing day. On those occasions I do feel a twinge of envy in the pit of my stomach, however, I turn and home in on it immediately as I know there’s something there for me to explore and examine — in myself.

The thing is, though, the more of yourself you become — the more beautiful, successful, intelligent, ambitious, sexy — the more likely you’ll become the target of others’ envy. And the thing with envy is it’s a damaging, penetrative energy. In fact, it’s bloody noxious. What’s worse is, many people avoid their own issues of envy and jealousy like the plague and refuse to ‘name it and claim it’ as an ex-boyfriend used to say to me. It’s shadow material, you see, and there are more than a fair few folk out there who don’t like to think of themselves as having shadows — particularly those who prefer to think of themselves as ‘nice’.

As a child, my exuberance and enthusiasm for life and for celebrating myself was, well, how it should be for any child who feels cherished and loved by their parents or caregivers. But when I look back on childhood events, I’m increasingly remembering moments when, after celebrating myself or my achievements etc, I was shot down by the scathing remarks of other children; children who weren’t happy about my shining. “Who do you think you are?” they’d say. Soon, they didn’t need to say it as I’d internalised the words myself in the form of my inner critic.

And so, little by little, I put various aspects of myself ‘in the bag’, got increasingly smaller, celebrated myself less, and apologised more for any success I did achieve. In fact, it got so bad, I began to unconsciously sabotage myself, believing myself unworthy of anything good, positive, or beautiful in life. My underlying belief was ‘I don’t deserve it’. And so it’s been for years.

Until now.

I was so relieved when I heard one of my mentors, Michael Meade, give a talk explaining how, when you begin to transform your life, pursue your dreams, celebrate yourself, and achieve success, you must then watch for the penetrative, damaging, and envious energy of others — and that includes some friends. He goes on to say that, no matter how good your friends may be, you must protect yourself if their energy becomes pervasive and corrosive and withdraw and retreat if necessary. Your emerging self is fragile, delicate — and you have to protect that, guard it from others, until it’s strong enough to stand and face the world and its criticisms. Those words stuck to me like superglue.

I recently shared a small success I’d achieved with someone. I was garbling on animatedly about it, sharing in my happiness, when I felt the energy change. It was barely perceptible but, nevertheless, I felt it. My sharing was then met with words in the form of ‘practical advice’. Not ‘well done’, ‘congratulations’, or anything remotely positive. Looking back on what happened I wondered whether I should’ve said anything about it (my achievement) as I knew they were going through a difficult time. But what do you do when someone asks you what you’re up to, how things are with you? Lie? Play it down and put it ‘in the bag’? I remember thinking, ‘Shit me, it’s not like I haven’t struggled for years and worked my arse off for this.’ Because I damn well have. And even when things have been going shit for me, I’ve still celebrated in my friends’ success and wanted the best for them.

In my experience, envy shows up as reluctance and resistance in relationships with others. It shows up as incongruous words that just don’t fit the situation or conversation. It manifests as dirty looks that could strike you down with one fell swoop by people who don’t even know they’re doing it. However it shows up, one way or another it goes back to ‘Who do you think you are?’

Interestingly though, on recent occasions where envy or jealousy has reared its green-eyed head, I’ve heard a small voice within say, ‘You’re on the right track, Thea. You just keep doing what you’re doing.’ Because, it’s like Michael Meade says, we only meet resistance when we’re overcoming obstacles, growing, becoming more of the person we already are — and resistance usually means we’re on the right track. Your blossoming, your very growth will often elicit envy in others whether you like it or not. The trick is, to catch it when you feel it’s happening and not apologise for it (your shining). At least that’s how it’s been for me.

Those who are miserable, stuck-in-a-rut, or refuse to take responsibility for the situation they find themselves in and transform their own unsatisfactory lives, won’t want those around them to grow and blossom. Your growth threatens the status quo. And not everyone likes change. Change means The Unknown. Change means upheaval. Change means break-downs and break-ups. Change, transformation, it’s all a pain in the arse — and it usually arrives at the most inconvenient time turning everything on its head and leaving chaos and carnage in its wake.

So I guess what I’m trying to say in my rambling, think-out-loud way is I’m done apologising for who I am. I like who I am, who I’m becoming. I’m proud of my intelligence, my intellect. Tantra is helping me reclaim my beauty, my sensuality, my sexuality. I’m taking small, steady steps every day to realise my dreams, become all I can be. And so, from now on, if anyone has a problem with that, well, that’s for them to deal with.

“If you ask me what I came into this life to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud.” — Émile Zola

:::

To buy a copy of Running into Myself, visit Amazon UK, Amazon US or, better still, order a limited edition signed copy direct from her publisher here (also ships worldwide). Also available to download on Kindle.

“Thea’s personal journey is utterly compelling. I couldn’t put her book down. Thea manages to make Greek mythology not only understandable, interesting, and relevant to our lives today, but shows how it can be utilised as a tool for self development. She introduces ideas and ways of thinking that broaden your mind, and lights the way for others to follow.”

— Melinda Messenger (TV Presenter)

“This is a story that truly reveals its author. You’ll discover her beliefs, her flaws, her loves, her fears, her mistakes, her drive and her compassion.

And you’ll like her.”

— Rowena Forbes (Journalist)

February 23, 2011

Little Voice

Filed under: Personal Thoughts — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , — urbandeva @ 6:43 pm

Little Voice

The inspiration for this blog comes from one of my favourite and perhaps most influential mentors, American mythologist, Michael Meade. I was first introduced to Meade’s work in spring 2007. My then boyfriend, who lived in Santa Fe (NM), had been to one of his presentations and was so bowled over by him he bought two of his CD recordings on the spot. I still remember him waxing lyrical via a Skype video call about this talk he’d attended, telling me how much I’d love him too. He was right about that.

Later that year I finally got the chance to hear him, in person, when he came back to Santa Fe while I was there. For the two-and-a-half hours he spoke he didn’t waste one single word. I was rapt. The guy was mesmerising. You can keep your Deepak Chopras and your Wayne Dyers — this guy is a truly sublime teacher. And the best of it was his talk was free. In fact, most all of his talks are free. All he asks is you consider making a donation to the not-for-profit organisation he runs called Mosaic Voices. He also encourages folk to buy his talks and books with all profits going to the Mosaic Multicultural Foundation.

Anyway, I went on to buy every single talk/CD he’s ever recorded and now own them all. If I’ve listened to them once, I must’ve listened to them hundreds of times such is the depth, breadth, and richness of information contained within each talk. Although not available to buy in the UK, they are available to order online direct from Mosaic in the US. Postage is very reasonable. One of his most recent releases is a CD entitled ‘The Soul of Change’ in which Meade outlines, well, the Soul of Change.

I do warn you, however, that this isn’t New Age airy-fairy guff. His work is like nothing you’ll have heard before (unless you’re already familiar with the mythopoetic realm). It has depth and beauty and soul. He veers into tribal cultures and storytelling. He plays the drums while recounting traditional folk tales. He shares exquisite poems and breaks down dense, complex psychological concepts, making them more accessible for lay folk.

Late last spring, I had the privilege of attending one of his residential workshops in Santa Cruz, CA. Money very, very well spent. What an incredibly inspiring and nourishing experience. But enough of my enthusing — I’d like to share one of the poems he tells and subsequently explains, at length, on the abovementioned CD The Soul of Change. The poem is entitled ‘Someone, Somewhere’ by William Stafford.

I have an anthology of Williams Stafford’s poems called ‘The Way It Is.’ I’ve bookmarked almost every single poem in the book, such is its sublimity. Unfortunately, however, I can’t seem to track this particular poem down (Someone, Somewhere), so will have to recount it based on Meade’s telling of it on the CD:

Someone, Somewhere

Not you, standing with your host by a window talking,

And not you poised where the light enters and falls to admire what it finds.

We are looking for something different from any of us,

And from those we have always prized.

~

It isn’t accomplishment, not that.

And it isn’t how you look, or sound.

It may be a helpless lock, on a certain way, that no party outside you can change,

And no authority can dictate outside the room of your mind.

~

Maybe you choose, and then time begins to deny.

But far away, what is yours, will begin to come,

And nothing, then, nothing can stop it, between.

For you have turned a corner and become the Self that chooses its own prize.

~

What must you give, people ask, to serve the Divine?

And you don’t have to say, but you do have to know — everything.

:::

I hold this poem close to my heart; particularly in light of recent personal events. Regular readers of this blog may’ve already picked up on my penchant for discussing personal transformation. The reason I ramble on about it so much is because a) I tipped my old 9-5, square-shaped life upside down and walked away from it and b) remain committed to transformation (my own and that of others). I’m also fiercely committed to walking a soul-oriented path. And it’s my ongoing commitment to that path that often makes things difficult, which is why the last stanza of the poem particularly resonates:

“What must you give, people ask, to serve the Divine?

And you don’t have to say, but you do have to know — everything.”

You see, following my inner gradient (talents, passions, interests) is what drives me, compels me, keeps me centred, calm (sometimes), and focused. Although I don’t adhere to any religious dogma or doctrine, neither do I follow any particular spiritual or cultural tradition, I do feel there is something mysterious and ineffable, both immanent and transcendent in which we are ensouled and also contain within us. I don’t care if you call that Nature/God/Divine/Allah/Universe/Deep Mind/Deep Self/Brahman/Yahweh — that’s all finger-pointing-to-the-moon stuff as far as I’m concerned.

This following your heart malarkey, though — damn, some days it can be difficult. When someone you love or respect, for example, whose opinion you value, is trying to get you to see things their way; but all the while a barely perceptible, little voice in the pit of your stomach’s saying, “No. I’m sorry, I can’t do that; No. I’m sorry, I can’t be the person you want me to be; No. I’m sorry, I have to stay committed to what feels right in my Heart of hearts.”

I remember clearly my Reiki teacher asking me before my initial Reiki attunement (August 2004) if I really was serious about what I was about to do, the path I was about to embark on. Let me just say I was very, very naive back then. Because if I had known what would unfold over the coming years, to borrow a line from the movie The Matrix, I’d have told my Reiki teacher to “shove that red pill right up your ass.”

Thing is, though, I wanted change — desperately. My life, back then, was pretty bleak. Put it this way: if I hadn’t changed things and changed them drastically, I doubt I’d be alive today. That little voice, however, gave me something to cling to, kept me afloat, while I drifted through very dark, very ambiguous waters.

Today, that little voice continues to direct me, not unlike Vasilisa’s doll in the fairytale (I recommend Clarissa Pinkola Estés’ brilliant telling and subsequent interpretation of it). That little voice pipes up, tells me to speak up and speak out, even when I’m afraid and don’t want to. That little voice stomps its feet and demands I get bigger, put myself out there, puff out my chest, and fake it ‘til I make it. That little voice tells me to ‘go this way, not that’ even when every fibre of my being is screaming otherwise.

But that little voice also tells me it’s going to be okay. It tells me I’m already sweet enough and don’t need to mindlessly unwrap and scoff another chocolate. It tells me I’m loveable and worth loving. It tells me to hold on and trust. It tells me that, even when the Winds of Change threaten to capsize what oftentimes feels like a rudderless rowing boat in the middle of a storm-ravaged ocean, so long as I keep listening in, keep serving my Heart of hearts (or the Divine as Stafford puts it), I’ll stay on course and, eventually, reach safe harbour.

For as Stafford also says, time does initially deny us — perhaps for weeks, months, or even years — but eventually what is ours begins to come, begins to move towards us. And it does. So long as we stay true to ourselves, nothing can stop it. But, and here’s the kicker, only if we hold fast and listen to the little voice.

This following your heart malarkey — damn, some days it can be difficult.

:::

Thea is author of the inspiring memoir Running into Myself. Buy a copy from Amazon UK, Amazon US or, better still, order a limited edition signed copy direct from her publisher here (also ships worldwide).

“Thea’s personal journey is utterly compelling. I couldn’t put her book down. Thea manages to make Greek mythology not only understandable, interesting, and relevant to our lives today, but shows how it can be utilised as a tool for self development. She introduces ideas and ways of thinking that broaden your mind, and lights the way for others to follow.”

— Melinda Messenger (TV Presenter)

February 21, 2011

The Miseducation of Thea E

Filed under: Personal Thoughts,Psychology — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — urbandeva @ 4:34 pm

The Miseducation of Thea E


“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.” — E.E. Cummings

(This interview with Jamie Oliver is what set me off with today’s blog.)

The word ‘education’ stems from the Latin root educere which means to elicit, to bring out, to lead forth. This, however, was not the impression school left me with (the point being exactly that — I felt impressed upon). I felt frustrated — repressed, even — at being forced to study double science, maths, a language (French), a humanity-oriented subject, and two English GCSEs (although, admittedly, I did enjoy English). Sports and the arts were asides and deemed less important. I won’t blame my teachers for this, though, as their hands were equally bound by the System.

Thing was, I was artistically-inclined and loved sports. If those kinds of subjects, however, were considered less important than the aforementioned others (and they were and still are), then what I interpreted the System to be saying — from my adolescent perspective — was my hopes and dreams, the very essence of my being, were also less important. Didn’t matter I began self-studying body language at twelve years old, asked to learn Italian, had an intrigue with philosophy and how the mind worked. Didn’t matter I loved drama, public speaking, building and assembling things (I excelled in Craft, Design, and Technology). No. Because those subjects were considered peripheral, cast in ancillary roles. (Funny, CDT comes in very handy nowadays when I singlehandedly assemble flat-pack furniture.)

The System, you see, decided it’d be a better use of my time to study something ‘proper,’ something more academically-oriented such as science and maths. Thing is, I abhor maths; loathe it. Science too (well, human biology was OK). Whichever way you try and teach me, I’m just not psychically shaped for those subjects. Just as I’m 5’ 8” with an athletic ‘Amazonian’ physique, I will never be a petite 5’ 1” with the derrière of Kylie. I’m shaped the way I am and there ain’t nothing I can do about it.

Yes, I can make adjustments — slim down, bulk up — but the bottom line is (if you’ll forgive the unintended pun) I was dealt a specific set of genetic cards. To deny my fated physical stock and spend the rest of my life railing against and complaining about it would be a tragic and ultimately fruitless waste of time. Better to accept my physical limitations, play the hand I’ve been dealt as creatively as I can, and release the numerous other potentialities inherent within. As mythologist Michael Meade says, “When fully accepted, the destiny will be released from within the limitations of the fate.”

Equally, my psyche is shaped in a particular way. Just because we can’t ‘see’ the psyche, doesn’t mean it isn’t there. We each have unique twists of fate, unique ‘bents’ so to speak: innate, inborn talents, qualities, gifts. So for the System (parents and caregivers too, for that matter) to attempt to contort, standardise, and impress upon me subjects it deemed more ‘fitting’ — subjects it thought would better help me ‘get on’ in this world — was as ludicrous and as much a waste of time as it would be to attempt to change my height from 5’ 8” to 5’ 1”.

At no point did anyone ever ask me throughout my entire time in education, ‘What do you love doing? What do you enjoy doing/reading/watching when you’re not in school?’ Instead, I was given boxes of potential careers to tick, a limited list of subject ‘options’ in third-year secondary school and told to make my choices. Yeah, like I even knew what I wanted for tea that night, let-alone how I’d spend the rest of my life.

All this leaves me wondering where and when the System stopped eliciting/drawing out children’s innate, inborn talents (i.e. educating them) and started trying to standardise them? I mean, what society wants ‘standardised’ children for crying out loud? Thing is, we’re now seeing the ramifications of this all around us: people drifting from job to job looking for somewhere to ‘fit in’ — individuals endowed with endless talents seeking banal, mundane square-shaped existences within which to fit their uniquely-shaped lives; utterly heartbreaking and a woeful waste of talents that our culture ultimately loses out on.

I’ve much more to say on this (my thoughts are vast, rambling, disjointed), but it’s at this point I wish to provide a little inspiration and quote from one of my favourite books by psychologist James Hillman entitled, The Soul’s Code — In Search of Character and Calling:

School failures are common; is this because the child fails school or because school fails the child? Either way, the gap widens between the innate intuitive ability of the child and the formalised tuition of school. As the writer William Saroyan put it: “I resented school, but I never resented learning.” All the while he had trouble learning in school he was reading on his own “nearly every book in the Fresno, California, public library.”

General George S. Patton was dyslexic and was kept back; Winston Churchill, at Harrow, ‘refused to study mathematics, Greek, or Latin and was placed in the lowest form — in what today would be termed the remedial reading class, where slow boys were taught English. His English, however, was not poor; his knowledge of Shakespeare was unusual and self-motivated.’

The composer Edvard Grieg said: “School developed in me nothing but what was evil and left the good untouched.” Thomas Edison said, “I was always at the foot of the class.” Stephen Crane, Eugene O’Neill, William Faulkner, and F. Scott Fitzgerald all failed courses in college. For Ellen Glasgow, author of On Barren Ground and a Pulitzer Prize-winning writer, school was “intolerable.” Willa Cather, Pearl Buck, Isadora Duncan, and Susan B. Anthony also disliked school. Paul Cézanne was rejected by the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris. Marcel Proust’s teacher considered his compositions disorganised, and Emile Zola got a zero in literature, also failing in German language and in rhetoric. Albert Einstein wrote of his middle school (which he attended from age nine and a half): “I preferred to endure all sorts of punishments rather than to learn gabble by rote.” Earlier, at primary school, he was not especially noticeable and was called Biedermeier, meaning a little dull, a little simpler, a little ‘unclever.’ His sister wrote that “he wasn’t even good at arithmetic in the sense of being quick and accurate, though he was reliable and persevering.” Some of these characteristics were due to his slowness of speech.

(I’d just like to interject here by adding that I, too, suffered with a slight stutter during my younger years and was told my writing was particularly infantile and below the acceptable standard for my age. Didn’t stop me going on to win every public speaking competition I entered; become a writer, published author, and student of depth psychology though, eh? And all with no more than two grade Bs in GCSE English literature and language.)

The gap between what is seen by the school and what is felt by the child can work in two ways. Mostly, the child following his or her invisible track is perceived as ‘out of it,’ unteachable, obstinately difficult, even stupid. But pressure can build the other way as well. Diane Arbus, the quirky and extraordinary photographer, said: “The teachers always used to think I was smart and it would torment me because I knew that I was really terribly dumb.” Whether the child is perceived as ‘dumb,’ like Einstein, or ‘smart’ like Arbus, the gap in perception between child and school remains unbridged.

Examinations especially can be a trial. The master bacteriologist Paul Ehrlich had to be excused from school compositions because of his ‘complete ineptness.’ Giacomo Puccini consistently failed exams. Gertrude Stein would not take her final in a class in Harvard. Anton Chekhov refused to study classics, and failed his school exam twice. These failures at school gave him nightmares. “All his life he was to be haunted by dreams of teachers trying to ‘catch him out.’” Pablo Picasso, ‘who could never remember the sequence of the alphabet,’ left at ten ‘because he stubbornly refused to do anything but paint’; even his private tutor gave up on him because Picasso could not learn arithmetic.

Seems I’m in good company then.

:::

Thea is author of the inspiring memoir Running into Myself. Buy a copy from Amazon UK, Amazon US or, better still, order a limited edition signed copy direct from her publisher here (also ships worldwide).

“Thea’s personal journey is utterly compelling. I couldn’t put her book down. Thea manages to make Greek mythology not only understandable, interesting, and relevant to our lives today, but shows how it can be utilised as a tool for self development. She introduces ideas and ways of thinking that broaden your mind, and lights the way for others to follow.”

— Melinda Messenger (TV Presenter)

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