Goodwill to All
I prescribe a course of 'Joyful Movement'
Tradition has it that, as the days shorten and temperatures drop, we begin to reflect on our deeds during the year. Somehow the tempo of work lessens, urgency diminished: everyone signs off by saying, “See you next year.” Or, “I’ll send you the revised figures early next year.” Rare exceptions are those where accounting targets demand last minute emphasis. Or maybe, for the stubborn among us, those who still have to complete their New Year Resolutions made in the grip of alcoholic fumes twelve months ago.
That reflection on our own deeds and accomplishments tends also to segue into thinking about others – whether materially better off or worse off – thinking more about how they feel. Are they content with their 2024? Have they achieved at least some of what they wanted to do? Are there objects in their rear-view mirror which appear closer than they are? (With apologies to Mr Meatloaf). For most of us carry our thoughts, words and deeds with us for ever, and significant events can echo loudly and colour our perceptions even when they are months past.
2024 has been a little bit shit for many people I know and love.
Events I’ve witnessed this year have included marital break-up, parental death, descent into painful illness and instances which I can best describe as the departure of a person’s ‘Get-Up-And-Go’. These past twelve months have loaded yet more onto already over-stressed people, expecting them to absorb extra demands and bounce back next morning, primed and ready for action.
But human beings aren’t built that way, are we?
Sure, we all complain about our lot in Life: our bosses, the traffic, the taxes we pay, the price of the weekly supermarket shop. But mostly, it’s possible to sound off to our spouse or work colleague and somehow we feel able to return to the fray, if not refreshed, at least ready to go again. Some part of that resentment lingers, though. Rare is the person who can truly slough off the insult as though it never happened.
I listened to a presentation last Wednesday by a young woman who has studied the connection between Life’s stresses and a person’s physical well-being. In particular, she works with elite athletes. She said they all train their muscles and joints to be larger, faster, to be able to work longer and harder. But most ignore or don’t know how to counter the deleterious effects of mental stresses.
These hang around, unless dealt with and can combine to materialise as mysterious aches and pains - perhaps unaccustomed leg stiffness in the morning or a nagging ache in the small of the back. The sufferer doesn’t sleep restfully, so relies upon coffee and adrenaline to tackle what has to be done next day. In top athletes, unusual muscle stiffness can transfer load to parts of their body unaccustomed to bearing it and torn muscles, sprains, trips and falls might result. At best, they aren’t performing optimally.
She spoke of the human need to sing and dance after a stressful day in order to weed out those persistent remnants of the day’s stresses. One of the audience asked if a challenging game of squash would have the same effect. She doubted it. Squash is a competitive game. People spend their lives competing and more competition is not what will help them clear and refresh the mental and emotional decks.
Instead, she recommended singing and dancing as having no element of competition; she said they are activities which satisfy the id, enabling release of tension, ‘nourishing the soul’, as it were. This, she asserted, is part of having Emotional Intelligence.
Her admittedly simplistic illustration involved a lone, nomadic hunter being surprised by a hungry lion. The hunter experiences the classic Fight or Flight adrenal response, (even office workers experience this), escapes and makes his way back to his tribal camp. There, everyone is delighted at his safe return, so celebrates with …you guessed it, singing and dancing. He relaxes entirely. He is out of danger. Everyone loves him. He is made happy and feels safe, so sleeps soundly. He wakes truly refreshed and can set out with a clear mind and lithe and flexible body.
The woman’s treatment programme is adapted to the particular needs of individuals, but centres around this principle of Joyful Movement as recovery method.
I confess that my careers so far as banker and building material manufacturer have been accompanied by sometimes significant worries, challenges and stresses. I can’t sing – even in the shower. And dancing? I laugh it off by claiming to have two left feet. Musical rhythm doesn’t work its way through to either of them, left or right. Perhaps I have an excess of British Reserve. (“Don’t make a spectacle of yourself, Lad”).
Could this be why I am accruing so many aches and pains, these days?
But after this spell of internal reflection, my view turns outwards, to others at a time of Goodwill to All. Have you any experiences which can throw light on this theory? Let me know.
