NEW & YOU

I've been away - not so much physically, but more in the spirit of communicating with this journal. Not easy to explain why except I wasn't altogether sure why I was writing it. I admire those of you who are clear about your aims and are so very fluent in the entries that you offer, many of them so creatively illustrated as a counterpoint to your thoughts. It is one of the blessings of our cyber-age that you have this medium in which to share your ideas with us - to our lasting benefit. 

However I today unearthed a flimsy slip of paper on which my father - who during his lifetime spent a great deal of thought trying to work out his own sense of purpose - had copied a poem which expresses so well the ideas that I have tried to follow in New & You. There was no note of the title of the poem, nor any mention of who had penned it. In my original post, I asked if any of you recognised it. Kindly, Bea responded immediately. 

'New Every Morning' is the work of Susan Coolidge. It seems that my father did not copy it precisely word-for-word, but I will leave his version here as it reminds me of him and his never ending quest for an optimistic view of life.

Here it is:

Every morn is the world made new

You who are weary of sorrow and sinning,

Here is a beautiful hope for you,

A hope for me and a hope for you.

All the past things are past and over,

The tasks are done, the tears are shed,

Yesterday’s errors let yesterday cover;

Yesterday’s wounds which smarted and bled

Are healed with the healing which night has shed.

Let them go, since we cannot relive them,

Cannot undo and cannot atone,

God in his mercy receive, forgive them!

Only the new days are our own,

Today is ours and today alone.

Here are the skies all burnished brightly;

Here is the spent earth all reborn;

Here are the tired limbs springing lightly

To face the sun and share with the morn

In the chrism of dew and the cool of dawn.

Every day is a fresh beginning,

Listen, my soul, to the glad refrain,

And, spite of all sorrow and older sinning,

And puzzles forecasted, and possible pain,

Take heart with the day and begin again.

Perhaps these thoughts will provide me with the motivation to find a new relationship with this journal. Time will tell.

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Bea writes about the seven year-old who without emotion explained that both parents are dead - 'somebody killed them'. I must admit that, like Bea, my heart 'turned over' at the sheer enormity of the child's loss. We all imagine how we would feel in similar situations, and the pictures we have of losing loved ones and the ways in which we would react (or have already had to do so) are always personal and relate to the images we have of the loved ones and our relationships with them. A child abruptly without parents faces an emptiness that knows no equal. Except what about the parent/s who lose one or two children and with them all the images they have of the future, the hopes and ideals that they have held for the ultimate grown-up safety and successes of young ones, to say nothing of plans for the next school or birthday party? European news has been focussed for some weeks on the loss of a little girl. Those of us who are parents have all imagined the nightmare of agonising over one of our children being snatched from the security and happiness that we have enjoyed together. Of course it is impossible to know the real agony until it happens to you, and yet our imagination will get quite close. The outpouring of support over these last few weeks has shown how keenly that nightmare is felt as the media highlights more and more aspects of the story. And yet, the little girl in question is only one case in many that are tragically happening all over the world - without the same glare of publicity.

Child loses parents. Parents lose a child or children. A daily, even hourly event all over the world. Which is worse? Are they the same? Do the causes of the loss - accident, crime, natural disaster, war - make any difference to the impact, the grief, the regrets that go with it? No-one can grade grief. It is personal. After the terrible rawness begins to dull - as inevitably it does even though it may take a great deal of time (and sometimes never) - is it possible to grow beyond it, to take up a new level of living that does not deny the loss, but does allow us to get on with our lives? How do we do it? Going back to Astra's story about her father, the memories will always be there. But, no matter how precious or unpleasant they are, their priority in the way we live inevitably moves into a different level. The pressures of our daily round demand our attention, and with them come new experiences and new horizons. With every moment I am new now. That does not take away the hurt, does not fill the huge space that a terrible loss has left. But it does provide a signpost to the way I as an individual can view the life that I have, and must try to live, in the best way I can.

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Astra comments about experiencing guilt for no obvious reason.

She writes: This may sound silly... I've had a feeling of guilt come over me for no reason at all and when the feeling had subsided i had no idea why i felt that way... strange!!!  

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It hangs over us like a heavy, suffocating blanket. It bleeds the positives out of every other thought we have, gives us a gnawing sense of fear. On the plus side, it brings us down to earth, and makes us aware of our obligations – no bad thing.   

Guilt is a big BROODER, one of the vilest villains in our rogues’ gallery of negatives. In among our rabble of unruly thoughts, it is the sullen nasty in the corner. Destructive. And yet it may also help us to see new ways of handling future challenges.

What is guilt? At its worst, it is fear of consequences – fearing the damage we have caused: to ourselves, or others as a result of what we have done or failed to do. And, just as negatively, it holds us back with conditioning and memories, making us hesitate each time we feel inclined to follow our free-will. Dare we?  Can we, without upsetting anybody? 

If we feel guilty, we either believe that we are already in the wrong, or we will be. That’s what makes it hard. Guilt’s secret weapon is the cold-blooded way it attacks our self-respect. There is no leniency. It is not swayed by our apologies or excuses. It focuses exclusively on causing an exceptionally nasty kind of anxiety that feeds our most pessimistic fears and grows like a malignant weed. It is very difficult for me to respect me, if I am the villain in the plot.  

It should be possible to handle guilt like any other negative thought – by replacing it with a positive thought, a BOOSTER. Sometimes this will do the trick. But there are other times when, no matter how upbeat we are determined to be, real deep guilt keeps coming back like a bad meal repeating itself. No amount of regret on our part is going to put the clock back. We can’t re-do or undo whatever it was we did. And if it’s about something we didn’t do, we probably know that it’s too late to make up for it now. Yet we won’t change anything by allowing that acid to go on burning inside us. Our guilty feeling is all a dreadful waste of emotional time and energy, isn’t it?  So what can we do?

The most important first step is to think in a new way about the situation that has caused us to feel guilty. We must face the bad memory squarely. Is it really so terrible? Are we helping ourselves in any way by feeling guilty about it? This is always better than allowing its nasty presence to lurk in the background.

Nothing goes on forever. I am new now. As long as I can believe this, I will see that I am different from when my guilt started. And that’s when I will see that I am permitted to forgive myself. Forgiving me is the most important step in getting rid of guilt. In many ways it is more important than hoping for forgiveness from someone else. It means feeling and thinking free from the past. When I forgive me I automatically make a fresh start. I can use my new thinking to put guilt on the back burner and starve it of fuel.

copyright John Marshall Mills 2007 all rights reserved

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Where do we start?  Can we really do it? Can we break out of the vicious circle that keeps up the pressure? How can we liberate our thoughts to be fresh and original? How can we think confidently enough to see everyone and everything is constantly changing and that chance can be not a threat but a friend?

We focus on what is new now.

Nothing can more radically transform our whole mindset than those four simple words. What they say is obvious enough, on the surface. But their power goes to the heart of our existence.

Look around you now, wherever you are. Can you appreciate that everyone and everything is new? Familiar, maybe, like they were yesterday and the day before. But can you accept that, with each moment, they are changing, and so are you?

View everything with new eyes. Treat it as a game. See people, places, familiar belongings as though this is the very first time you have met them. And the more familiar they are, the more interesting it is to find something new, no matter how small. It’s an enormously exciting dimension. In its simplest form it means that nothing from the past can tie you down. Nor can you be upset by unwelcome twists of chance. You can constantly refresh your enthusiasm and your energy by recognising new possibilities.

The beauty of new is its freshness. If we can be confident that nothing is fixed, that chance is forever placing us in new situations, and our world is endlessly changing, then we can question every instinct we have, every experience, every individual we know. A good way to begin is with family, and close friends, teaching ourselves to see each one of them with fresh eyes, as though we come to them with no pre-knowledge or any feelings based on familiarity. 

Can you imagine meeting your closest blood relative for the first time and seeing them as they are today? Of course it’s impossible to clear your mind of everything you already know about them. They generate too many instinctive feelings in you. And, if they have been a big part of your formative years, you have been conditioned by your own emotions and by their attitude to the relationships you have shared with them. Very difficult to have a totally fresh view of them. But they are new, and so are you. So try asking yourself these questions:

·          What kind of a person am I meeting?   

·          Where do they fit into the life I have made for myself? 

·          How do I feel about the lifestyle that they have? 

·          How many of their beliefs and opinions really chime with mine?

See this person as a complete stranger. Treat it as a bit of a puzzle, a game. It’s an interesting challenge. Why are we doing this? Simply to take the first step in working out how to see every moment in its true light, free from the ideas and prejudices of the past.   

Making sure that we look for what is new now is even more important with people we don’t know. With someone whose race, culture, politics or religion is different from our own, we too often make an ‘instinctive’ pre-judgement. And because that prejudice is often partnered by suspicion or fear, our feelings are infected in a way that can damage the relationship before it gets off the ground. Even if we don’t have any instinctive prejudice, our getting-to-know-you routine can cause problems. It usually includes a number of personal questions designed to see how much we have in common. But information about our background can so easily put us in pigeonholes that are difficult, if not impossible, to escape. Pigeonholing is prejudice at its worst. We do it to others and they do it to us.  

Whatever our past experience, and no matter what conditioning is in us, they deserve to be welcomed with a completely open mind, not only the first time but also every time. And yet, what about the familiarity and trust that already exists between us? Simple. It’s history. They and we are new now. Even though it may be hard to see how we both have changed, we will have moved on from the experiences that shaped our relationship originally. So the way we are thinking and feeling now will be different, however slightly, and our original feelings and thoughts will no longer be completely relevant. Hopefully the changes will be positive and will add to the relationship. And if we can see what is new now, we will automatically feel a new interest, even excitement, in being with them.

Breaking out does not mean turning your back on the past. It does not devalue what you and your world were then. They are the foundation from which you notice what is new now, and discover how it is changing you. Breaking out simply frees you to recognise every choice that comes your way, so that you can make the best of it.

copyright John Marshall Mills 2007all rights reserved

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She took her time. Opened the passenger door of her small, silver-grey car; placed a not very full carrier bag on the front seat. Then, almost reluctantly she closed the door and went slowly round to the driver's side. It was as though she wanted each moment to stretch so that she wouldn't have to think of the next one, wouldn't have to remember the empty apartment waiting for her. This shopping trip was probably the single most important item on the agenda of her entire day. Of course there could be reading, maybe a short walk and even a cup of coffee sipped solo as she watched the families busying themselves with their own purposes, the other elderly folk using time in their own private ways, before she went back to arrange a modest meal for one to be taken on a tray in front of the tv screen. Sometimes, as she walked alone, she would watch the familiar stooped shoulders and painful steps of old looking men - all of them probably younger than her 71 years - paying the price of a life of manual labour. And yet, as they eased themselves onto a bench beside the equally stooped, white-haired friends with whom they shared the same bit of shade at roughly the same time each day, she might have wished that in her life there could be the same easy opportunties to share the long hours.

She was alone. For her it seemed that a shady bench could never be possible. The company she had shared for a few blissful years in this warming sunshine was no longer there. They had always known one of them would go first. They had both of them thought about it, but not deeply, not enough. And now it was doubly hard to think, or plan because when your whole life has been a double act how can you suddenly go solo?

She closed the car door very deliberately. The brake lights lit up as she switched on the ignition. The engine idled quietly and waited for her to make the next move which she was in no hurry to do, hesitating to take the next step that would bring to an end this one highlight of her day.

How could she do 'I am new now'? How could she risk trying to turn her back on memories no matter how painful when they are all she has left? How could she even imagine that a new way ofthinking might lead her to a new way of life? Why should she bother? Could it possibly be worth it? And yet, wouldn't it be worth a try? Wouldn't anything be better than keeping her foot on the brake in an attempt to hold back from yet another short journey back to those reminders of an empty life?

Yes, of course it would be worth it. But how to start? Where to get the spark? How can we do 'I am new now' when we are totally solo? When there is no sounding board, no response from someone we trust to share our progress and judge the results. Of course we can imagine solo, and yet everyone who arrives there says you can't possibly know until it happens to you. It's empty. The gap is too wide, too deep to fill with a quick-fix. Empty. We need some kind of connection - even if it is only someone we hardly know, for a few minutes chat on a bench in the shade.  Without connection, where do we start? How?We need opportunity and a spark to get us going.

Can we find the answer in faith? Many of us do. It is the rock which offers certainties and comfort,  companionship which takes the raw edge off emptiness; and above all it gives us purpose that we know we can share.

It can also offer powerful possibilities to those of us who do not have it, a beacon that beckons brightly enough to encourage us to take our foot off the brake and make a new journey.

Yet, either way it cannot be the much loved voice, shared delights and worries, the touch of a hand, the presence that we know will be there when we open the front door. They cannot be replaced, nor should we try. 'I am new now' means that we can't go back. But we can try to go forward to discover new things about ourselves that we didn't know before, strengths and ideas that may help to fill that gap. It's worth looking and worth trusting ourselves enough to try.

The silver-grey car left slowly. The silver-haired figure hunched over the steering wheel, peering ahead into a future for one. One among many who every day live with the realities of being solo.

copyright John Marshall Mills 2007 all rights reserved

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All experiences are pages in the book of life. Reaching the end of one brings us to the beginning of the next. At the end of a night’s sleep, our new day begins.  For most of us, life itself begins at the end of an experience between two individuals who become our parents. There’s no magic. The constantly turning pages of life, all of them new in so many different ways, move us forward automatically. Without any special effort, we become new. We don’t need any extra courage or imagination. No need to hesitate or worry that we are deserting the page that is ending. We don’t lose anything by going forward.  

Yet often we try to stay on the same page longer than we should. With a book, do we re-read the same words repeatedly? Yes, if they are beautifully written and especially moving. Yes, if we want to commit them to memory. In the same way we may want some experiences to go on forever. But with other books and other experiences, we are eager to find out what’s going to happen next and we move on. The choice is ours, but we should be careful not to linger past the point where we should admit an experience has ended. Why are we sometimes so reluctant to move on? Are we afraid to let go in case we lose a precious part of ourselves? Or do we have a problem with trying to face what's new? Will it damage what we already have? Unlikely. Of course it is easier to follow a familiar path, takes less imagination to keep going as we are. But do we notice how that blinds us to new thinking? We need to be sure we can recognise when a page is ending so that we don't miss the next one beginning.

How do we do that? By learning to look for endings. Many of them are obvious: death, breaking a relationship, re-locating a home or a job, completing a project, winning or losing a game, arriving at the end of a journey, recovering from an accident or illness, reaching the last words of a book or the end credits of a movie.

Less obvious, but every bit as important, are the endings of everyday activities: shopping, cleaning, putting fuel in the car, making and eating meals, packing a bag, answering e-mails. If they are chores, we are unlikely to want to prolong them. On the other hand, an interesting exchange of gossip with a friend, or a few extra relaxing moments when a meal is finished will tempt us to linger. But there is always an ending. It is usually easy to see where to draw the line.  Every event, no matter how fleeting, is a separate page. At the end of each we will always begin something new.   

The more we practise looking for endings, the easier it becomes to see new beginnings that show us a reason to let go. The clinging circle of old thoughts can be broken. Beginnings are always more fun than endings. By remembering that the end is where we find the beginning, we can take control of the pages of our life and make them turn in the way that is right for us.

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We each have a lot to offer – our dreams, our experiences, our frailties and our strengths. As individuals, we can give an original twist to any idea, add extra value to everything we are involved in, just by being ourselves. This is why it is so important to fight against control freaks whose unrelenting mission is to dominate the way we think. Never before has it been more difficult to do so. They make mischief in our minds. Their weapon of choice is usually anxiety, using dire warnings about the threats we face. Truth is, they can’t see into the future with any more certainty than we can. And yet, their predictions persuade us to compromise, and the more they do so, the more they cheat us out of the special differences we can make as free thinking individuals.

To guard our personal freedom we need to be more aware of the way we think. Thoughts can be respected and valued individually. Like people, some are good for us, others give us problems. Recognising which they are is a big step towards getting better at handling them. Our freedom depends on how well we recognise how much we are being invaded by ideas that are not our own. We also need to free ourselves from the dead weight of the past.

Habits and routines are repetitious. And they fence us in. Same stuff, same old bits of grey matter. Tired thinking? Of course we can’t do without them. They’re comforting. And they help us make sense of our lives. But we cannot enjoy any real freedom as long as we are being badgered by negative old thoughts. They play totally random games, often surfacing unpredictably at the most awkward times. Like a bunch of chaotic, excited kids, their impact on us can be distracting, and sometimes distressing,. They must never be allowed to get in the way of our freedom to notice and explore what is new now. We need to be quite ruthless about putting them in their place. Been there, done that.

Most damaging are old unhappy thoughts about ourselves. They generate a negative self-image about who we are and how we relate to other people. We must recognise that, because they always belong to the past, it is quite wrong for them to be given the chance to drag down our feelings now. Dark memories about unpleasant events, mistakes we’ve made, regrets they have caused get in the way of our freedom. Why is it that they seem to come more easily than happy ones? Half-empty is always so quick to catch our attention. We should work hard to stop this happening. Freedom needs us to think half-full  –  or better.

With new thoughts we can we defend ourselves very effectively against all the outsider ideas that seek to take away our freedom. They allow us to shake off the old thoughts that are holding us back. They help us to make a fresh start. Whenever we look for what is new now, we automatically think positively and, more often than not, we find that new thoughts lift us out of our half empty mood. By flexing our mental muscles, we can explore new routes to connect with all our spare thinking power; the billions of brain cells that have never been used. And the best way to get into them is by remembering, all the time, that, ‘I am new now.’

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Life is an onion with layers that peel away. Nothing is ever what it seems to be. Think you know someone? How well? How often are you surprised, even shocked to discover something unexpected? The way people look and behave is never the same from day to day, hour to hour. Their thoughts and attitudes are also changing. And even when we think we have identified their hidden depths we are likely to be wrong because the layers themselves never stay exactly the same.  

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