Been hoping he would get round to talk about these things in a nuanced way.
And for the millionth time I am thinking to myself: “What a mad world we humans have created for ourselves. What is the point of all this madness?” And what keeps me sane and alive are the relationships I am blessed to have – relationships where I experience connection and meaning. Having those helps me accept that there may not be any point to all of this and even if there is I will probably never know.
The past couple of months my obsession with dance has crawled up on me – slowly but surely.
I keep wondering what it is about dance that makes me feel this indescribable feeling inside. I love technique and am fascinated with body control. But dance is nothing without intent, without something pouring from the dancing body – something more than the body, more than the person, more than the movements…
Here are some of the things I have been inspired by recently
Music by Hozier
Butoh dancer Maki Watanabe
Glorious mix of 66 dance scenes. Old school stuff
Sia – bird set free
Dancer Ricky Ubeda
Sia – elastic heart
Dancers Shia LeBeuof and Maddie Ziegler
Choreography by Ryan Heffington
Destigmatising and demystifying the experience of hearing voices is something I feel very passionate about. I myself have always heard voices and I was lucky enough to have a family that did not think it was unusual or problematic. My mother is avid about not correcting children’s experiences or imposing ‘reality’ on them, so I was allowed to enjoy my invisible friends and talk to spirits of nature, gnomes, elves, fairies and trolls.
But eventually I was confronted with ideas of normalcy and what kind of experiences are acceptable to talk about – and what not to talk about. I was around 8 years old when I started realising that not everybody has these experiences. And as I tried to fit in more, be more normal and push away the things that seemed to set me apart from others – my sensitivity and the voices and beings I could sense – I began to loose the sense of meaning and magic.
My life with voices is a long story that I won’t share here and now. A short version is in the book “Living with Voices: 50 Stories of Recovery” by Romme&Escher. But the essence of my journey has been the realisation that I need meaning and magic to counterbalance the pain and overwhelm of being in this world. Being sensitive and sensing things that others don’t, are both parts of what makes life worthwhile. And I need people who not only accept my experiences but actually are curious about them and help me find ways to express my inner world.
It was through relationships with other people that I began to find a language for my emotions, my fears and shame. I found out what it means, how it really feels, to feel safe. I found out what belonging tastes, smells and sounds like. And I started looking for and creating spaces, where I could experience safety and belonging.
One of the people who has walked along side me on my journey is Trevor Eyles. For more than 10 years he has worked to promote the Hearing Voices approach in Denmark and the rest of the world. He has supported both mental health workers and people who hear voices (and voices) to find ways to work together and change people’s relationship with the voices. He cares deeply about this work and he has helped set up numerous Hearing Voices groups. He has been a great mentor for me and many of my values around collaborative approaches to mental health are founded in working with him.