Stranger danger

She runs up to one of the dad's at the soft play and asks him to build her a house out of the soft shapes. She is enthusiastic, cheerful, full of energy and oh so sociable. While her mummy is entertaining her baby sister, she is entertained by the attention of another child's dad, or mum. Later on, she will wave goodbye before leaving and say "see you again another day!"

She loves people, she trusts them without reservations. She will say hello to everyone passing by her house. Whenever the phone rings, or the doorbell, she absolutely has to say hello, or she'll be engulfed by tearful sadness. She thrives on adult attention and interaction, and connects so easily and charmingly to anyone willing to look at her.

It has been noted that she has no awareness of stranger danger. We, her parents have been advised that they should make her aware of the danger of strangers.

Herein lies the conundrum.

We are asked to destroy her innocence, her unwaivering belief in the goodness of every person. We are asked to instill fear into her.

While I understand why this is a responsible thing to do, I also understand why this is equally an awful thing to do. I remember a teacher of mine who made us explore the meaning of fear. He then continued to ask us for the antithesis of fear. It was trust - and how essential it was that trust was to prevail over fear. It's a lesson I still remember because I saw a lot of truth in it. Like an epiphany I realised how trust conquered fear and made the world a better place to live in.

There is a whole life ahead of her where she will have to decide whom she can or cannot trust. For now, she is protected by us and can rest assured that whomever we trust, she can trust as well. It is a gift. Her innocence and trustworthiness is a reminder of what things could be like in a better world.

And we're meant to make this evaporate into thin air? I cannot, for now, bring myself to doing this.
There's still time isn't there? Can she not be innocent for a little while longer?
Then, how will we know that the time has come to tell her how cruel and evil this world can be?

I hope it's just a phase...

Today, on our way to Queens Park's glasshouse (which is more than that, it has a reptile zoo and a soft play area to offer and is a rather popular location to any southsider in Glasgow who has kids), there was much talk about THE LION. In fact, there are two. One on top of the monument that remembers the Battle of Langside (where Mary Queen of Scots lost, the site of the battle is a mere 200 metres from where I live). That's nice and very tall as Cubling would say, so we're cool. The second one is a different story. It's a massive plastic head of a lion, with teeth painted on it and all, just at the entrance of the beloved glasshouse.

There were tears today. Screams of fear. Cubling had said something about keeping her eyes shut as she'd walk past it (clever girl) and hiding behind mummy (good idea, I'll fight the lion should he dare to even move towards you an inch). All the plans went to shreds of course.

It took us three attempts to pass the lion. After that she was fine, and had just one more panic incident when she spotted an iguana rather closer to her than expected. After saying "I love Leguane!" - consistency is not her strong point.

My worry is that this phase has been going on for a bit and it's not getting much better. We cannot read the Gruffalo or watch the amazing BBC production. Well, I and Mr Cartside did because we love the Gruffalo, but that's after Cubling's bedtime because "I no want see him!!!! He eat me!!!!"

Sometimes, she wakes up screaming and tells me of a monster coming to eat her. During our holidays, the monster was hiding in volcanic rocks, in the gap between her bed and the wardrobe, or recently in the wall of the train station. Monsters everywhere. It's all about sharp teeth, being eaten and sometimes about diggers coming to get her or the whole car.

Then there was a dinosaur at her friend's house. Admittedly, it was big, and when a button was pressed, it moved its head rather realistically and flashed red lights across its back. But it's still not massive, doesn't move, and can be wrestled down by any toddler. However, I had to ask for it to be taken away, shame really because I'm rather partial to dinosaurs and would have loved to play with it.

Obviously we do all the reassuring you can imagine. The lion is not real, just painted. He is nice and not hungry at all. The teeth are ridiculously soft. The gruffalo is thick and the mouse is clever and doesn't get eaten - that's the point of the story, isn't it???? But no. My girl is scared of rather a lot.

So for now The Gruffalo remains unread. Even before having children, I was so looking forward to reading the Gruffalo to them, and now the book is sitting rejected on the shelf. I never thought it would come to this.

Breaking Through

Recently, I embarked on a residential with quite a few of the young people we're working with at the moment. As part of the fun activities with a bit of deeper meaning, we had enrolled Dragon Dynamics to run an afternoon session, which culminated in Board Breaking. You know what I'm talking about, the karate style chopping of a piece of wood? Right?

Oh, I was burning to do it. Very much unlike the Fire Walk, where I was reluctant and not at all sure if I wanted, should, could, would, ought to do it. Nonono, I've been waiting for this opportunity for a long long time. You may not know this about me, but I used to do kick boxing. And I loved it. In fact, I miss it, that mad outlet of energy, the opportunity to totally exert yourself, test your physical limits, feel the power of your own body, the total focus and presence of mind required (because otherwise you get hurt. Badly).

But of course, it's not just about the board breaking. The board is a metaphor for what hold you back in life, holds you back from doing things you know you should be doing, from making changes, from getting off your backside, from realising your dreams, getting out of a situation that doesn't work for you. It represents the fear that's holding you back, the barriers that you need to push through to make things happen.

Part of the preparation for the board breaking is about identifying these barriers and physically writing them on the board. As you attempt to break the board, you are most literally breaking through your own very personal barrier that's between yourself and realising your goal.

My barrier appeared in a lightbulb moment in the fullest clarity you could hope. And mine was not the only lightbulb moment. There were many, realisations of how communication works and how to take ownership, how to face one's own demons, and the realisation how the metaphor of breaking boards applies to each individual's life, and the importance it place on the breaking of one's very own board. I don't want to go into details - confidentiality and the respect for the young people and their extremely moving realisations tell me this is not the right place for elaborating any further on their realisations.

My very own barrier was significant enough: There was no question about what it would be, it presented itself with all it's impact. There is a fear that is holding me back, and which, so often makes me withdraw in intertia or choose to remain silent when I burn to speak out. It is the fear of not being taken seriously. Maybe this is partly why I blog - my semi-anonymous little bubble is a safe space where it's not about being taken seriously. However, this has changed because my blog is no longer as anonymous as it use to be, I've sort of come out and yes, I'm starting to feel ever so slightly uncomfortable.

I've been thinking about this barrier ever since, and still believe I've truly pinpointed something. It fits, I can find endless examples. While as a younger person, there was lack of confidence holding me back, this has now changed to the fear of not being taken seriously.

So, when I decided it was my turn, I was determined. There was no way it would take me two attempts to break through. This board had to go with a bang.

And a bruise.

I happy now!

(photo by D3 San Francisco via flickr.com)

We are driving home from the childminder. The short 10 minute drive is filled with relentless whining and whinging. Cubling is tired from a night filled with nightmares, where cuddly bears turned to vicious monsters, and a long day.

"I want go Spielplatz". "Nein, das geht nicht, es ist schon dunkel und viel zu spaet!" (I want to go to the swing park - no we can't, it's dark already and too late) "I want see George!" (she must fancy him. Every single day she wants to visit George. When she does visit, she doesn't play with him, doesn't even look at him. True love...) "I want go einkaufen!" When my third "nay" ensues, she starts bawling. And I feel for her. Three fun ideas, and no success. Frustration exasperated by a wound up state of tiredness.

10 minutes aren't long but they turn to eternity after a long and busy day at work, which followed a very broken night's sleep due to toddler nightmares. Almost at home, I plead, with an attempt at authority in my voice "Please stop crying now." She stops. I breathe. Space to think. An idea. "How about, we go to the shop to buy a pumpkin?" A smile, growing. Eyes lighting up and glowing with anticipation. "Yeah!"

We drive off to the shop. Cubling announces: "I happy now!"

toddler fear

photocredit: oddsocks via flickr
It all started with a combine harvester. Now there's no end to it. "I Angst!" she exclaims, "I no want see xyz!" is added while she puts her clenched fists in front of her eyes. "XYZ scary!" is added in case we are a bit slow in getting the point.

My courageous, dare-devillish, derwish of a girl has discovered fear.

It is in fact scaring me.

There are night terrors, the worst of it when her beloved Spencer bear, the one that follows her on every trip, is cuddled snugly to her body every night, the one she feeds, cooks for, changes his bum for, shares her milk with, when this cuddly Spencer teddy, two nights ago, caused her major distress. "I no want Spencer in mein Bett! Spencer scary!" At 2am, I had to remove him from her bed. If Spencer bear can turn on her in a dream, nothing is sacred.

Books she enjoyed are now filled with fear inducing characters. She's scared of bears, lions, crocodiles, spiders, bees, flies, ants. Excitement and even joy now easily turn into heart wrenching panic. Every time we pass the fields where she saw a combine harvester a few weeks ago, she will elaborate on her fear of the "funny" yet "scary" vehicle that washes grass and makes it into Strohballen, a vehicle that may be lurking in the bushes to jump out at her. I remember the eye opening (or rather closing) incident when I spotted her then beloved combine harvester in a field next to the road. To do her a favour and share her excitement, I stopped the car right beside it. Her excitement, in a split second, turned to panic. Her eyes covered, tears streaming down her face, screams of anguish, "mummy drive!!!" leaving me in no doubt that mummy had had a bad idea.

From that day on, we've had regular night terrors, and irrational fears sprinkled through each day.

Let's hope it's just a phase. She's a confident, energetic girl and these sudden outbursts of fear seem at odds with her personality. Or maybe they aren't - maybe they too are a sign of the intensity of her emotions, whichever they are.

On Saturday, I Walked the Fire

Yes, you heard right. I walked the fire. Whenever I mention that I did a fire walk, people look at me blankly, not quite understanding. So it takes a bit of explaining. You know that thing some mad people do (me), chopping down wood with an axe, building a pyre , then lighting it, before walking across the ambers of the fire with their bare feet? Yeah? Well, I walked across those ambers with my bare feet.

Why oh why would I do such a stupid thing?
Reasons there are many. The occasion was the loss of another three amazing colleagues to redundancy. After a massive restructure, a lot of my colleagues have lost their jobs. Fortunately, most of them found really great new challenges so it's not all as bad as it sounds. Yet there had to be a proper seeing them off. So, inspired by a glass walk once done with a group of young people, a fire walk was arranged at a colleagues farm, with camping night to round it all off.

We started off at 4pm with workshops that set the scene. This fire walk was not about imagining a wet mossy carpet, nonono, it was about being very aware of the heat, the risk, the danger, the madness of it all. Apparently the fire is about 1600 Fahrenheit hot. Just as well that mean absolutely nothing to me as I don't do Fahrenheit. I believe it's rather hot though. Like, it melted a stocking, and even moving the ambers into place with a rake made my face burn. The workshops were all about exploring fear and the effect it has on each person's life, how it keeps us from reaching our full potential, how fear can be real and necessary to protect us but also a barrier, and a fear of something that is not actually dangerous. Knowing the difference is the key.

So the firewalk became a symbol for overcoming fear, for taking charge and making a decision, for reaching out for the impossible and going for it. More than that the idea is also to make a personal decision, and to take responsibility for all our actions, thoughts and words from here on forward.

This is all very empowering stuff. The firewalk thus was meant to be a very personal, individual achievement. It was a right of passage, a ritual, in our lives where such ritual, sacred or not, has lost meaning. There was to be no peer group pressure, the decision to walk the fire was to be personal, with a right for the decision to be not to walk the fire.

As the moment drew nearer, my fear increased. There was no doubt in my mind that that fire was hot and my feet were just made of skin. This is what the fire looked like:


And these are the ambers just before I walked over them:
HOT.
I looked. I thought, this is impossible. I was sure I was not going to do it.

But remember, there was a group of us, and as we started walking around the fire in a circle, clapping rhythmically, with bodhrans and other percussion sounds, and as one by one people walked across the fire, my desire to do it too became stronger. I felt supported, not pressured to do it. I was still very ok with deciding not to cross the fire. I observed the ambers. Plotted a path that didn't look quite so hot. Calculated the number of steps needed (4). Focussed on the path, the ambers, gathered my fear, and took it across the ambers with me.

The question that keeps nagging at me is this: Would I have done it without the groups support? Was it really just my personal choice to walk it, did it really empower me, or did I succumb to peer group pressure that I had rationalised into group support to help me achieve what I wanted? How about the way we shouted at each other "I'm going to walk the fire and so are you" in the workshop? Does that sound like taking responsibility of your own actions? Or did we push each other?

Above all, as soon as the question was put up "what keeps you from reaching your full potential?" all I could think was, what is my full potential? Why do I have to reach it? At which expense? You see, I have talents that I chose not to pursue because I don't see the values of them beyond my own little niche. I'm a good researcher, I could have had an academic career. That was my potential, a potential I don't care much for any longer. Instead I'm doing something that I find harder, that stretches me very often, that makes me at times insecure. Looked at it from another perspective, if all a person aspires is to reach their full potential, this will clearly be at the expense of those around them. It's selfish, unsocial.

There's a balance to be addressed, those of one's own ambitions and those of the people affected by these ambitions. We don't live in a vacuum. While I see the benefit of the firewalk for those who live in fear and who have disempowered lives (and I'm told it works wonders to liberate in this context), I didn't quite buy it.

So, while my colleagues are all full of new energy and feel transformed, I enjoyed the experience but do not feel that my life has changed as a consequence. I'm glad I did it, I'm amazed I did it, and it made me realise that if I set my mind to something, I can overcome fear and I can, to use the German phrase, step over my shadow: overcome my demons. It also showed me how a supportive group, a team, can help people reach higher.

Yet I still don't by into the reaching my potential business. Maybe I choose not to reach my potential and seek the wisdom within me, as the angel card I picked suggested. What I do buy into are the notions of respect and responsibility for my own actions, thoughts and words and I shall endeavour to try and take that responsibility more seriously.

Oh, and the fire didn't hurt in case you were wondering. No blister, no nothing. And I still rationalise this, rather than believing in the power of my mind to do it.