Yoga assists & attachment theory ...

Following from my last entry I've been reflecting further on my recent experiences of "assists" in yoga classes ...

It seems that for me, they've helped me connect to some early attachment experiences. "Attachment" is a psychological concept which explores how people develop emotional bonds & ways of relating to others; and I would also say of relating to oneself, one's body & one's life.  Babies learn how to attach and relate to others (and self, body and life) through their early relational experiences with their caregivers.

From the infant's pre-verbal development stage, much of that relating and experiencing is situated in the body.  Mother (or other caregiver) responds to her baby's bodily needs for food and attention and the baby begins to form ideas about itself and its self-efficacy through these responses.  How well attuned mother is to her baby and its needs can have a significant impact on how that baby's sense of itself and confidence in the world develops.

Over the last year or so I've read quite a bit about attachment theory for my research; looking at how those early relating experiences contribute to an individual's sense of self, to their relationships with food, eating and their body, and to their way of being in the world.  And this is why I guess the concept has been (unconsciously) on my mind in my yoga practice.

From this place I've experienced many yoga assists as extremely nurturing and holding. Trusting the teachers / assistants and feeling safe in their hands has enabled me to relax into my body and allow them to manoeuvre my body wherever they could see it needed to go.

My first recognition of the connection between these assists and attachment ideas (and embodied memory) happened during Savanasa one evening.  Having my head and neck held and massaged felt hugely comforting and nurturing, and brought to mind an embodied memory of being held as a baby; feeling safe, held and nurtured by my original caregivers.  Being able to let go and be free of all adult responsibilities, thoughts and tensions, and reconnect with the innocence and "just being-ness" of infancy.

Since then, I've re-connected to that infant experience in other assists; especially those where my teacher / assistant has their body wrapped around mine in some way in order to manipulate my body.  And again, I've experienced a sense of absolute trust and safety.  I've been able to step out of my head with all of its adult / learned responsibilities, beliefs and tensions and fully immerse myself in my body and its experiencing; knowing that the assistant has hold of me and I'm safe.

It's very rare in western culture to have such close, intimate bodily contact with anyone outside a sexual context; we're taught that it's somehow "wrong" or inappropriate.  And yet with body psychotherapy and other body based therapies, touch is key to their effectiveness.  And in terms of enabling me to reconnect with the embodied memories of early attachment experiences, it no longer surprises me that such close bodily contact can trigger those memories.  Most relating and caring in infancy occurs at the bodily level; the body contact in the yoga assists are symbolically reminiscent of that time.

This connection between yoga assists and attachment interests me as I begin to explore more deeply how yoga might be helpful for people with eating disorders and other troubled relationships with food and their body.  I feel it's important to find ways of enabling people to re-establish a comfortable, enjoyable, safe and self-nurturing connection with, and way of being in, their body.

I've been fortunate to have experienced safe holding in infancy, so I do wonder, for those people who maybe weren't held so securely, what the experience would be like.  But I guess that to be getting in touch with one's early attachment experiences, an individual would have had to have done a lot of Self exploration to peel back the layers to that extent.  Or the enabling of that connection would need to be done in a very safe and trusting environment.

I appreciate that for many people, the assist will be experienced purely as a helpful physical manipulation; and from that perspective they're hugely beneficial too.  It can be amazing to experience what my body is capable of and to experience it move more fully into a pose.  But from my current place of interest in the idea of the body as a reflection and container of my Self and embodied memories, I'm interested in what I can learn from my body about my Self and my way of being in the world.

Allowing myself to immerse myself in the embodied experience of the assists seemed to enable me to connect with embodied memories of infancy.  And from that place, I've come to a state of "remembering" and "knowing" how I was related to as an infant.  I have a strong sense of "knowing" how my body's (and hence my) needs for food and nurture were responded to.  Of "knowing" how my caregivers responded to, and touched and held me and my body.  Of "knowing" how those caregivers felt towards me and their experiences of caring for that infant me.

And with these new knowledges. I've been able to further deepen my understanding of mySelf and how I became who I am.  As our relationships with food,especially in relation to eating disorders, are intimately connected with early nurturing experiences, I've also unpeeled another layer of understanding of my own disordered eating history.

I just wonder if, after reading this, the yoga teachers & assistants I've had in

 mind as I've written it, will offer me more assists in future ... 

or avoid me ... !!?!

From my research to yoga ...

I’m aware I haven’t written anything on here since New Year’s Day … apologies! Mostly, this has been due to the time demands of my therapy practice and working on my thesis.  I want to find more time to write again though as I move through the next steps of both my PhD / research journey and my personal journey; both of which are intimately interlinked …

I’ve also been practising yoga regularly since September and so have been spending time reading around yogic practices and philosophies.  Yoga is a practice I’ve dipped in and out of for many years, but hadn’t really found a teacher / school which compelled me to stay.  Until last August when I was introduced to ‘Forrest Yoga’ through an organisation called ‘Jambo Yoga’ …

Forrest Yoga is more physically intense than other approaches I’ve experienced and encourages an internal focus alongside the physical, which is partly what makes its philosophy so similar to my own.  It encourages its students to connect more fully both with their bodies and their authentic selves.  As stated on the ‘Forrest Yoga’ website (www.forrestyoga.com); “The practice challenges students to access their whole being and to use Forrest Yoga as a path to finding and then cleansing the emotional and mental blocks that dictate and limit their lives.”

As much of my PhD journey has been serendipitous, it seems that I was led to Forrest Yoga at just the right time.  My research was leading me to conclude how just how much of our self experiencing is situated in our bodies.  I was also thinking more deeply about the disconnect between mind & body, so commonly experienced by people with eating disorders and other disordered eating / body image concerns.  This mind-body disconnect is very prevalent in western society and I think it plays a huge role in the rising numbers of people we see experiencing eating disorders, obesity, disordered eating, body image concerns, etc.  Seeing our own, and others’ bodies as objects to be manipulated into looking a particular way is common practice in our culture; and this takes us away from our authentic embodied experiencing. 

In my work with eating disordered clients, I see how disconnected they are from their body’s experiencing.  Their body has become a ‘thing’ which they want to control or change.  They don’t experience it as part of themselves.  They don’t experience their body as their embodied self.  Their body has become the problem. 

I also find many clients, with no eating issues who are disconnected from their bodies and their feelings.  Our feelings tend to be experienced in our bodies; as sensations, as ‘feelings.’  But many people focus too much on what they’re thinking.  It’s amazing how often a question about how a client feels about something is answered with, “I think … “ 

Our bodies have a lot of wisdom and learning to listen to our body can tell us so much about ourselves.  Our body communicates in many ways; through its unique internal sensations, through its posture and movement, through ‘psychosomatic’ manifestations and much more.  Our body is what allows us to experience the world around us.  It’s what allows us to relate to other people and it’s from where we present ourselves to the world.

In a Forrest Yoga class, I experience myself as being fully in my body for the 90 or so minutes the class lasts.  My mind chatter stops and I can simply be fully in my body in way I don’t think I can be anywhere else.  I experience no judgement of my body from anyone else in the room; teachers or other students.  And nor do I experience any judgement towards anyone else or their body.  And more importantly, I don’t experience any self judgement or criticism towards myself or my body. 

For the first time in as long as I can remember, being in a Jambo Yoga class is the first time I have felt absolutely no self-consciousness about my body.  I experience no concerns about how ‘it’ looks; I step into my holistic (and authentic) embodied experience and out of the disembodied objectified experience of western society.  I experience the ‘assists’ offered by the assistants as nurturing and supportive and powerful in enabling me to connect even more fully with my own body and its abilities.  In short, I feel alive.

In that class myself and my body are one … authentically and without judgement.

I’m working on increasingly being this way outside of the yoga room, and also on finding ways to enable my clients to connect more fully with their embodied experiencing and authentic selves …

"New Year; New You" ? Not for me ...

I'm writing this now as I've just received an e-mail from a well-known store inviting me to their online Beauty Department sale with the promise of a 'New Year; New You.'

At the start of another new year, I'm already noticing how often this phrase, 'New Year; New You' is being bandied about in magazines and online.  It's a line that comes around every year, and much as I see the potential good in the concept I think it's implying, it's an idea I no longer subscribe to.

I think that life is a constant process of personal development and growth and that we can always strive to be the best that we can be.   But for me, that means becoming increasingly true to my authentic self; to who I 'really' am, outwith the expectations society places on us to be a certain way.

In the past, I might have grabbed hold of the 'New Year; New You' promise and latched on to whatever product, diet, exercise regime it was attached to and placed a lot of hope in its changing me into that 'new' me.  That new me, that would somehow be a better version of the one I already was.

I think that lots of people do this.  Somehow believing that if they eat the diet, follow the exercise regime, buy the products, wear the clothes, etc., they'll somehow become a better version of themselves.  And yet by placing faith in external purchases and regimes, people are becoming increasingly detached from their true inner self.

In my counselling work, this is something I see a lot of.  People looking outside of themselves in an attempt to find themselves.  Somehow believing that other people, other peoples' rules and regimes or material objects will give them their answer, will give them their happiness.

This approach rarely works though.  People follow the diets, the exercises, buy the products and maybe feel good about themselves for a while.  But it's often a hollow sense of happiness; not the genuine happiness that comes from being congruently oneself.

So for me this year, I'm not even going to try becoming a 'new me.'

I like the me I already am.

And I don't want, or need, to change that;

but I will allow myself to grow in whatever direction my authentic self leads me ...

"Breathe it in ..."

 

This entry refers to my experience of visiting Auschwitz II, also known as Auschwitz-Birkenau.    To build this camp, the Nazis destroyed 7 local villages and built the brick barracks from the houses of those villages.  Following this visit, I then went to Auschwitz l, originally a Polish Army barracks, which today is a museum .   I’ll write about that experience, as well as my experience of visiting 2 barracks in this camp in other entries.

A friend, before I visited Auschwitz, told me to ‘breathe in every bit of my experience.’  I remembered his words as I walked around the camps and did just that …

On the days immediately prior to my visit, and the actual morning of the day, thinking about ‘going to Auschwitz’ felt very surreal.  A bit like a child waiting for Christmas, the day I’d wanted to happen for such a long time, was suddenly upon me.  But it wasn’t excitement that I was filled with.  How could I be excited about visiting a place where around 1.4 million people had lost their lives at the hands of fellow humans?  I struggled, in the lead up to my trip when telling people I was going, with how to describe how I felt about it.  Saying ‘I was looking forward to it’ felt wrong.  And yet, I was looking forward to it, in a way.  I guess I was filled with a sense of anticipation about whatever I was going to experience.

On the actual drive towards the camp, I began to feel really anxious.  I realised I had no real idea as to how I would feel or how I would react when I got there.  There was also something about being in a people-carrier with 5 strangers, 4 of whom would share the experience with me and my mum when we got there. Our driver was very chatty and informative about the area, which was good because listening to him, stopped me dwelling too much on the experience ahead.  He was even able to make us laugh about the irony of us visiting Auschwitz in a German manufactured Mercedes.

Seeing the road signs to ‘Oświęcim,’ the Polish version of the German-named ‘Auschwitz’ kept bringing my anxiety to the surface.  I began thinking about how the Jews must have felt on their journeys to the camp; both those who knew where they were going and what fate awaited them, and those who didn’t.  What a very different experience to my own …

As a counsellor, I always try to step into my client’s shoes and experience their world through their eyes.  And I think that’s what I was trying to do here.  As I said in my previous entry, for me to be able to fully understand something, I need to experience it for myself.  That’s what I try to do (as much as I ever can step into someone else’s experience) in the counselling room, and was also I think, how I approached my visit to Auschwitz.

Getting out of the car and walking towards the main building felt surreal.  I think I dissociated slightly, especially when seeing the train track leading through the tower, knowing what had lain at the end of the thousands of peoples’ journeys.  I felt a heaviness inside of me; sadness, helplessness, disbelief, respect and awe.

Stepping inside, two things hit me; the vastness of the site and the air of stillness.

I felt that the air held a certain heaviness, almost a sense of its holding onto the gravity of what had taken place there. There was an eerie quietness to it too; despite many visitors being there.  I guess that some of this quietness could have been due to the amount of empty space, but it somehow didn’t feel that way, because alongside it, I also experienced a powerful sense of respect and sadness.

The vastness of the site, stretching both to the right and left of the central walkway for me, began to put into perspective the huge scale of the atrocity.

 Seeing both the surviving barracks and the remains of destroyed ones helped me appreciate just how many prisoners had been held there, especially knowing how crammed they were inside their huts.

Going round the site with a guide was a mixed experience for me.  In hindsight, I think it was probably the best way for a first visit, but I’d like to go back again, on my own.  The guide was very informative and ensured that we saw the key things, but going round with her, and also as part of a group meant that there wasn’t always enough time to experience fully and process what I was seeing and experiencing.  In hindsight, I think this might have been a good thing, as I think it had to potential to be overwhelming.  I feel that from the guided visit, I’ve been able to process more of the facts and to get a sense of the camp and life there, but I’d like to go back and process more of the emotions.  To spend a little more time at the sites that held more meaning for me, to stay still and reflect on the lives of the prisoners.

Seeing the electrified barbed wire fencing around the camps was powerful.  Thinking about its use in controlling prisoners through fear, and also providing a painful means of suicide for those prisoners unable to cope. 

I think the sense of awe I mentioned earlier relates to my amazement at the resilience of human beings.  I often feel it towards my clients in the therapy room when I hear the life experiences they’ve had or are living with.  That same sense of awe was magnified countless times inside this camp.  I still can’t begin to comprehend the scale of the fear, terror, humiliation, loss, hunger, anger, etc., etc., that the prisoners must have lived with constantly.  Their sheer helplessness, powerlessness, despair …

And what makes it even more incomprehensible, is that it was at the hands of other human beings.

Looking at the watchtower in this photo helps me envisage the Officers in it, keeping watch over the camp and the prisoners.  And I just can’t even begin to put myself into their shoes.  I can get a small sense of what the prisoners must have felt, but I just can’t comprehend the other side.  Or maybe, I just don’t want to.

Another really powerful moment for me, was my first sighting of a railway carriage used to transport people to the camps.  Having previously read about the horrific conditions within these carriages, actually seeing one up close, made me appreciate more just how horrific those journeys must have been.

Another poignant point for me was the end of the railway track.  Originally, the tracks stopped outside of the camp. But once it became an extermination camp, and to speed up the process of liquidation, prisoners were made to extend the tracks right into the camp.  New arrivals were then simply taken straight to the gas chamber … very close to the end of the railway track.

The gas chamber at this camp was destroyed by the Nazis before liberation to hide the evidence of their actions.  Its ruins still remain …

And again, for me, actually seeing this helped me see in my mind’s eye the experiences of those whose lives ended here.

For some reason, and I still don’t know why, I was drawn to the trees stood to the left of the gas chamber’s remains (photograph at the top of this entry).  Whilst I was there, I was certain there were 4 trees stood there, and even the first few times I looked at my photos, I only say 4 trees.  I was really surprised, almost a week later, to realise that there were actually 5 trees.

Walking around the camp, I kept thinking about my friend’s words.  I kept closing my eyes, taking a slow, deep breath and simply breathing in both my own experience and those of the people who suffered and lost their lives here.  I think it would have been easy to just walk around, seeing the sights.  And maybe that’s what some people need to do; just to see it.  Any more than that could be overwhelming.

I wanted a little bit more than that though.  I wanted to experience it in order to help me to comprehend it and to breathe it in as part of my own connection to humanity … both the horrors experienced by the prisoners and the incomprehensibility of man’s ability to afflict such horrors on other men, women and children.

Visiting Auschwitz ...

I visited Auschwitz last weekend.  It’s somewhere I’ve wanted to visit for a long time, and now that I’ve been, I know it was the right thing for me to do.  And I’d actually like to go back …

I’m going to try and put my motivations for wanting to visit into words, because it’s provoked a number of discussions when I’ve told people I’ve been.  At times, I’ve felt that I’ve had to justify myself and my reasons for going there.  Other people have been hugely interested and have wanted to know all about my experience.  I think it's good that it provokes such debate, as it helps highlight what an emotive experience it was, and still is.

From conversations I’ve had with people over the years, Auschwitz seems to be a place that people either want to visit.  Or they don’t. 

Why did I choose to visit?

For me, it’s a way of remembering the horrors that occurred there and showing my respect to the people who suffered and lost their lives there, and in other similar camps.  I have no family history linked to Auschwitz, no religious connections, but it still feels part of my personal history.  My sense of connection comes simply from being human. 

As a counsellor, I have a keen interest in trying to understand humanity and individual life experiences.  The holocaust and what took place in camps such as Auschwitz and on the journeys there, are almost incomprehensible to me.  Trying to imagine the terror and fear that Jews and other prisoners must have experienced is almost impossible and my heart goes out to every single one of them.  In preparation for my visit, I read a number of survivors’ stories just to try to understand their experience.  Their horror began way before arriving in the camps.  Life in their own homes became an experience of terror just waiting for what might happen to them.  Thinking about it, makes me appreciate just how very lucky I am.  I think it’s easy, living in twenty first century Britain, to take for granted the safety and security of your own home and freedom.  And yet I’m also aware that many people today (in the UK and around the world), for all kinds of reasons, don’t have that luxury that I’m fully appreciating right now.

What I find even more incomprehensible is the thinking and action of the Nazis and people involved in the torture of the prisoners.  As someone who is generally very accepting of people, I can’t comprehend the Nazi thought processes of hatred towards the Jews and other marginal groups.   It seems a very arrogant position to have taken; that they were the better people & to try to create a ‘pure’ Aryan race.  One of the sad things for me though, is that it’s still going on today; maybe on a smaller scale, but we still see racism, homophobia, sexism and all of the other human hatreds happening in the world today.  To some extent, it seems that we haven’t learned anything from the horrors of the past …

I wonder how many of the Nazi officers truly believed in what they were doing and how many of them were coerced into behaving the way that they did.  This is another aspect of the Holocaust that interests me.  As humans, research shows that we do have a tendency to follow those in authority and to behave in the same way as those around us.  I wonder how many of the Nazi officers found themselves in this position.  Maybe not agreeing with what they were doing, but feeling pressured into ‘having’ to do it so as to please their superiors and fit in with their comrades?  I guess that for their own survival, they felt they had no choice. To some extent, my heart goes out to those people too.  I wonder how their experience changed them?  And how did they rationalise what they had been involved in when it was all over? How, for the rest of their lives, did they live with their memories of the things they’d witnessed and carried out?

My guide at Auschwitz was telling us that there are probably many Officers’ diaries still buried at Auschwitz.  In the future, I think these will have informative experiences to tell.  Out of respect for those still living who experienced the Holocaust and for their children and grandchildren, the diaries are not yet being uncovered.

So to get back to my original question; my motivation for visiting Auschwitz was to try to comprehend the atrocities that happened there and across Europe during the Second World War.  For me, being in a place like Auschwitz helps me feel closer to the experience.   To fully understand things, I have a deep need to experience them for myself; I feel I can’t fully comprehend anything until I have.  Now I know that I can never personally experience what happened in, and around Auschwitz (and nor would I want to), but for me, by being there, I felt a closer connection to it and to everyone whose lives had led them there.  Touching the walls of the barracks and the bunk beds, touched by the hands of thousands of victims helped me feel closer to them …

Some people I’ve spoken to have viewed visiting Auschwitz as being voyeuristic.  Others have talked about the disrespect of turning it into a tourist attraction.  I think that for some people it maybe is these things.  The guide told us that some of the barracks have had to be closed to the general public due to graffiti. For me, the people who choose to disfigure any monument are showing disrespect and I disagree with their actions.  However, I also see that for some people, the graffiti may be their way of expressing their feelings towards what happened.  I also suspect that some of the graffiti was carved / written by people not fully understanding the depth of feeling that others would experience and maybe their naïve way of adding their own mark to history.  I don’t condone any such actions and whilst I was in Auschwitz I didn’t even want to take any photos of myself or the person I visited with.  For me, that somehow would have felt disrespectful, and moving towards treating the place as a tourist attraction rather than the monument I think I see it as.

And the issue of taking photographs have also provoked a number of comments.  I took a lot of photos whilst I was there.  I took photos of everything that had meaning to me.  And again, I can see how this could be viewed as voyeuristic.  But I’m glad I took my photos.  I couldn’t take everything in whilst I was there.  Looking at my photos, as I have done many times since I got back, is helping me process both my experience of visiting and my ongoing struggle with comprehending.  I’m a very visual person.  I’ve always loved photos.  And when I look back at photos I don’t just see the images; I feel the atmosphere and the feelings being experienced when the photo was taken.  And what I’ve found especially strange with some of my photos is the eeriness and bleakness that are visible in them.  Despite it being the 26^th October when I visited, it was an unusually hot and sunny day (22c) with blue skies.  

This photo to the right has had not filters or effects added; it’s just as I took it …

When I look at my photos, I 'see' and 'hear' the prisoners in a way in which I didn't in pictures before I visited.

The guide told us that the majority of Auschwitz survivors, when asked, will say that when they were liberated, they wanted the camps to be destroyed.  However, they’re all now glad that they weren’t and that they still exist as a reminder of what happened there. 

In my next entry, I’m going to try and put into words my experience of being there …

As told to the Sunday Sun newspaper ...

As a build up to the North East Skinny Dip 2013, I was interviewed by a reporter from local North East paper, the 'Sunday Sun.'  The article appeared in yesterday's paper (see photos below) ... this is the article as written by the reporter, Brian Daniel and printed in the Sunday Sun, 22nd September 2013.


"A NORTH woman will today notch up an important milestone in her recovery from eating disorders when she gets her kit off at a mass skinny dip.

Sharon Cox, 40, from North Shields, is taking part in the North East Skinny Dip 2013 at Druridge Bay Country Park in Northumberland.

The event, successfully held for the first time in 2012 and arranged to coincide with the autumn equinox, will see hundreds of men and women bare all and take a sunrise dip in the cold North Sea.

Participants will be raising money for the Mind mental health charity as well as event supporters, the National Trust, and could play their part in breaking the world record for the world's biggest skinny dip.

But for Sharon, [of North Shields], the event will be a key moment in her life - world record or not.

At the age of 15 she developed anorexia, a disorder she suffered from until she was 17.

"I probably got down to around 7 stone which, probably for my height at that age, was about two stone underweight."

Sharon then began to suffer from bulimia, a disorder which would plague her until she reached 30.

"Some periods I would be bingeing and vomitting quite often."

Sharon's weight would vary from to to 11-and-a-half stone.

In 1999, at the age of 27, Sharon began training to be become a counsellor, having attended counselling for her bulimia.

She eventually opened her own private practice, helping people principally with eating disorders and working at GP surgeries with those suffering from other mental health problems.

For the last six years, she has been studying a PhD at York St John University part time on the therapist's experiences of working with people with eating disorders.

The counsellor training and practice and the work she has done for the PhD, have helped Sharon - a steady 10 stone for the last few years - put her disorders behind her.

And today, enjoying life and her body unlike so many years when she did not, she will get her kit off at the skinny dip, the first time she - like most of us - will have done such a thing in public.

She said, "In the last 10 years I have not felt especially confident in my body.

It is only through my PhD that I have found a way to accept my own body and to feel that sense of body acceptance which allow me to do the skinny dip.

I would never have dreamed of doing it even a couple of years ago!

This is the pinnacle both of recovery and of my PhD - it feels a real high point in both of those."

Sharon is dreading feelings the icy water against her skin though, saying, "I am more worried about the cold than the nakedness!"

She is hoping to raise hundreds of pounds for Mind."

I still aim to find the time to write in more detail about my journey from eating disorders to skinny dipping ...

Oddly normal; My 'skinny dipping in the North Sea' experience ...

The weather couldn't have been more perfect; a lovely warm September morning with clear sky out to sea affording a stunning view of the sun appearing over the horizon.   Alongside 200+ other ‘skinny dippers,’ my good friend and I stripped off our clothes, took hold of each others’ hand and ran into the North Sea …

And it turned out to be everything I’d hoped for. 

Standing around, fully clothed, waiting for the dip to happen, I was interested to know what had brought everyone to the point of baring all in public.  I knew I had my own journey which had led me there; I’m sure others had their own.  For some, like myself, it was maybe a significant milestone, others were maybe doing it in memory of loved ones, for others it was maybe simply a challenge.  Being naked in front of other people can be a scary thing to do and running into the cold North Sea in itself is a challenge!

I’d expected to feel extremely self-conscious, but that proved not to be the case.  Yes, I experienced a moment of this when the organiser told us it was time to take our clothes off, but I just took a deep breath & went for it.  Everyone else was doing the same after all! 

Holding my friend’s hand, we just ran towards the sea & the rising sun.  I found it very liberating to run naked across the sand amongst other people in the same state of (un)dress.   I guess that because everyone was there for the same experience, there was a sense of complete acceptance.  Another friend of mine described experiencing it as ‘oddly normal,’ and for me that perfectly summed it up.  No one was there to judge other peoples’ bodies, to compare, criticise, admire or ridicule.  No one was ogling anyone.  Everyone just appeared to be there for their own adventure and to share in the group experience. 

I found it surprisingly easy to run across the sand, and much as I’d been scarily anticipating the cold North Sea, it didn’t appear to be as cold as I’d expected.  I don’t know if this was because the sea wasn’t too cold this morning, or if it was the state of mind I was in, perhaps the adrenalin which would have been flowing through my body?  Or maybe, it was something to do with sharing such an amazing experience with so many other people?

It did feel colder as we walked out deeper and deeper … out to almost-chest height.  And my legs began to feel cold, before becoming numb!  But it also felt invigorating.  It was wonderful to look around and see so many people out in the sea against the beautiful backdrop of the rising sun.  That’s an image I’ll never forget.  And nor do I want to.

And then when we’d had enough, we turned round and headed back to the beach.  Any self-consciousness had completely left me and I felt comfortable and relaxed walking out of the sea in my bare body.

I’d expected to be shivering and uncomfortably cold, and had consequently went prepared with lots of warm clothes and hot water to drink … even a foil blanket!!  But it turned out I didn’t need them.  I simply dried myself off with my towel, and stepped back into my clothes …

Druridge Bay, just before the sun rose over the horizon ...

Seeing other peoples’ naked bodies in such an environment felt very natural and liberating.  I found myself simply noticing those other bodies; male and female.  There were all ages, all shapes and sizes … & every body was perfect.  Simply because every body there was enabling the individual to participate in a truly authentic experience and challenge. 

It wasn't even a ‘celebration’ of bodies, more of a sense of acceptance.  We’re all human.  We all have bodies.  We’re all different and unique … and that’s okay.

I find it sad that in our culture, bodies have become objects to be ashamed of, objects which need to be manipulated through diet and exercise to look a particular way, objects which need to be dressed a certain way, etc.  There’s often a sense of shame attached to nakedness, which I also find sad.  Why should we be ashamed of our bodies, of our natural selves.   We’re all born into the world, fully accepting of our bodies, luxuriating in and fully connected to our bodily experiences, and over time, we learn to be ashamed.  We learn to disconnect, we learn to hide … and we consequently disconnect from our full experience of life and living.

 Someone, when I told them I was doing the Skinny Dip commented about its being ‘rude’ and ‘naughty.’  I found this sad too.  There’s nothing rude or naughty about naked bodies.  Our culture has sexualised bodies to an almost pathological state.  Yes, bodies are sexual and are enjoyed sexually, in appropriate arenas and that should be celebrated.  But our society seems to promote the body as a sexual object too readily.

Our bodies are nothing more, or less, than the container which houses our Selves.  Our bodies are what allow us to experience life and living.  Our bodies allow us to touch, to taste, to smell, to hear, to see.  Our bodies are from where we experience our Selves and our life.


I will write more later about my journey to partaking in this event ...