This could have been called ‘Following the Shards of Light’. I deliberated over this for a long time. Shard implies sharp, a fragment, brittle, broken, dangerous (maybe), a weapon. Remnants of demolition – or war – or a bar fight. It is also a building in London of course. Not really the angle I was going for, but in the background nonetheless. How fortunate to have violence or war in the background rather than on the doorstep. Yet it affects us deeply, whether we want it to or not.
And what does shaft mean anyway? An NYPD detective from 1989? (Bear with me). It depends in what context, I realise.
The shaft of a feather, for example; ‘The long, slender central part of the feather that holds the vanes. It’s like the mast that holds the sails.’ (1)
Or, ‘a long, narrow, typically vertical hole that gives access to a mine, accommodates a lift in a building, or provides ventilation.’ (2) This reminds me of my brother doing a very convincing imitation of “What’s that Skip, the kids have fallen down the old mine shaft?” (3)
Quite a jumpy and haltering start to this season’s post. Fleetingly this came to mind – shaft, as in, male genitals. Again, not the direction I was intending to take. Finally, I resisted the distractions and focused in on this; a ‘beam’ or ‘ray’ of light, which is more what I was getting at. So in this case, shaft has to accompany sunshine for its meaning to work in the context of what I am writing about – attempting to anyway.
Now the procrastination is out the way…
In early January, I enjoyed walking in the sunshine, with my dog of course. It didn’t take long for the options of sun on the ground to diminish and become sparse – much to my disappointment after our predominantly grey and rainy December in the UK. Stripy shards of light appeared between the trees and I was compelled to walk along as many of them as I could, to stay in the sun (and out of the shadow) for as long as possible, even if it meant clambering through a holly bush. Ouch! Nomar was oblivious to my quest, effortlessly weaving around the trees and bushes, in and out of light and shadow; his tail taking on a rapid figure of eight motion, as if it might propel him into the sky.
This Christmas just passed, relationships with relations felt fractured beyond my imagining. Shards of family. Or have we all simply stopped trying so hard to patch up the cracks? A façade of togetherness on both sides of my divorced childhood ‘family’, has existed for longer, further back, than I was able to acknowledge until mid-adulthood. Yet the attempts at unity persisted. Two separate togethernesses (I know, it’s not even a word!). Year after year after year.
Now that these attempts feel sluggishly irresolute, due to protracted terminal illness, infidelity, mental illness, neurodiversity and other barriers to effective communication – the threads wearing thinner and thinner and more frayed – I wonder what purpose and value they had before, and why they felt so important. I am in new territory, new tracks to be trodden – attempting to find my own way. I am an adult, have been for a while now, with my own small family unit; desperate for this to feel enough. And for me to feel ‘good enough’ (e.g. Winnicott; 4) for it.
I wrote about making new tracks many years ago when I first started ‘Psychodography’. An analogy to consciously working on new neural pathways in the brain… new habits, new conversations with Self and others, uncovering and acknowledging. I was referring to clients I worked with as a trainee Counsellor; people who were deep into major transitions in their lives – finally getting support for addiction, and by default, for the traumas which had led to the addictions and the further traumas caused by them. This struck me as immensely brave and worthy of the utmost respect. Digging into and exposing their hidden traumas and losses without the soothing, masking substance(s) or compulsion which had kept them going, and harmed them and their relationships of course, for most of their lives thus far.
‘We can hardly bear to look. The shadow may carry the best of the life we have not lived. Go into the basement, the attic, the refuse bin. Find gold there. Find an animal who has not been fed or watered. It is you!! This neglected, exiled animal, hungry for attention, is a part of your self.’
(Marion Woodman; 5)
There have been big endings and losses for me this month – the old painter I mentioned last time – and others. New beginnings and transitions too… and the usual things remaining the same; piles of laundry, running late for the school run, not knowing what to make for dinner. The combinations of usual and unusual, predictable and surprising; bringing both comfort and trepidation; mundanity and solace; nostalgia and giddy excitement.
These esoteric contrasts reflect in the magical qualities of winter, which are always there if you look for them. The long nights speckled with flurries of soft snow. Shimmering… in the moonlight. Frost and moss. A pair of pigeons snuggling into the ivy clad tree, while pale clouds race overhead. Eerie bright light framed by a moody grey sky, the very tips of the budding trees almost glowing luminescently.
The mystery feather which appears in the most unlikely place.
A single golden leaf yet to depart from its familiar branch.
Procrastination, as mentioned earlier, can be considered a reaction to grief and trauma. There’s so much on the internet about this, I managed to go down several worm holes and crawl out having not been able to make decision about which one to include here. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to find what I need there. What I need is in the woods, the meadows, the streets, the friendly hellos with fellow dog walkers, sensations in my body, images in the mind’s eye, the childrens’ laughs, the people I meet through my work whom I would otherwise never meet, the space between us in the therapy room, the candle before bed.
I keep searching and keep finding the gold.
“You follow this caper, of finding lost souls
and trying to bring them back”
(RC, 2023 – Rest In Peace)
© 2024 Psychodography Blog
REFERENCES
- https://www.birdsoutsidemywindow.org/2010/07/02/anatomy-parts-of-a-feather/
- https://wordle.guide/dictionary/SHAFT
- https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0060025/
- Winnicott, D. (1960). The theory of the parent-child relationship, Int. J. Psychoanal., 41:585-595.
- Van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps The Score: Mind, Brain and Body in the Transformation of Trauma. Penguin. Random House UK.
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