Please be gentle, I’m still learning

”Please be gentle, I’m still learning” Robbie Williams sings in the song Advertising Space. Imagine living approximately forty years before getting that. Forty years before understanding that if I’m not gentle with myself, much less learning takes place. 

If I associate learning with pain, with being chastised, told off, ”I should have known”:ed, do you think my system would be promoting and encouraging learning? 

No. It (I) will run the other way. Shut down, slowly, insights will be fewer and farther apart… or at least, they will be significantly more quiet, almost unaudible. The inner voice of wisdom, of universal mind, will be barricaded, by myself, by my self-preserving ego. The innervoice will be unwanted. Out of fear. Fear of the pain that comes with learning, which I’ve associated with pain, harshness. 

And that will only change once I begin to be gentle with myself. And I speak from personal experience when I say that being gentle with me, is a very off concept for one accustomed to being harsh. Realizing my internal harshness was one of the greatest aha-moments of my life, and what I saw was that it’s not mandatory to be my own harshest judge. Kindness, gentleness, is an option. Also for me. 

This insight has been with me since 2006-2007 sometime, and took place during a therapy session. Since then I’ve practiced being gentle with myself, och it’s something which comes more and more natural to me nowadays. And that’s be reverting back to being more fully me, because I I think it is our natural state. We’re born and created to be gentle with ourselves, otherwise we wouldn’t be the learning creatures that we are, from the very get go. 

Imagine a small child being harsh with herself for not immediately knowing how to walk, run, ride a bicycle. A child is naturally gentle with themselves, trying, failing, falling down, trying again, failing, falling down, trying again…. over and over until suddenly, one step is managed, then two, then all of a sudden, the child can walk, can run, ride a bike. 

What happens to us? Why do we – at least I – stop being gentle with ourselves, and rather start to be hard on ourselves? Is that why children are the greatest learners there is? Not because adults don’t have the capacity to learn, but because we’ve stopped being gentle with ourselves, we expect to get things right away, and we are afraid to try and fail. Because we’ve put another meaning on what it means to fail, than the child trying to learn how to walk, run, rida a bike. We believe it means we are bad, not good enough. While the child simply knows it means that the learning process is still unfolding, there’s more to learn, more to master, before the learning process has manifested into yet another skill. And somehow, adults impose their faulty understanding upon children, creating yet another harsh un-learner. What if we adults instead learned from children what it is we are born to be? Life long learners, where the only prerequisite is being gentle to ourselves.

Please be gentle, I’m still learning. Are you?

Podcast 12/52 – why we are here!

Yesterday I had another one of those ”Wow, this podcast is so good, I want to listen to it again, as soon as I’m done listening to it the first time around”-moments, and the podcast that made me all excited was the One You feed-episode with Glennon Doyle Melton.

I found a lot of really significant passages in the conversation in this podcast, and a few of them went straight to my heart. One of them centers on the habit we have of not sharing our vulnerability with each other. Glennon tells a story of when she wrote a post on Facebook, sharing her vulnerability in 25 bullets. The response was amazing and supportive, but also, people dared to show their vulnerability with her, after she had shown her. And she was struck by the fact that people she knew, she only really thought she knew, because there was so much pain and hard experiences in their life, that they had never shared with her. She shares her reaction to this, in the podcast:

I was pissed! Because what are we doing? Why are we even calling each other friends? We sit together and we’re talking about things that do not matter, and you’re in so much pain, and I have the same pain. This just gotta be what we’re here for: to talk about this stuff! 

hold backNow, why is it like that? Why do we barely go skin-deep? Why is it so hard to be vulnerable? Why do we hold back, from sharing our pains, losses, grievances, but also our joys, tender moments and highest wishes and dreams? And why do we believe the mind-made monsters about what will happen if we are wholehearted and vulnerable, when  in my experience, usually it’s the opposite. Yes, there will be haters, but haters will be haters, to quote Taylor Swift, and why should we (or I) let that stop me? And what I have received in love and connection on account of opening up and being vulnerable, far surpasses the ”hate-responses”.

And still. I hold back. I shy away. I hold my tongue, for fear of the reaction, even though I know that if someone came to me with what I am dying to share, I would open my arms and heart and just hold a space for whomever it was who shared their vulnerability. Why don’t I think others would do the same for me? Isn’t that why we are here?