When bearing witness is enough
On the value of seeing things as they are, in their/our wholeness
Included with today’s essay is a 10 minute guided meditation that you might find helpful as a practice of dropping into spaciousness, especially useful for those moments where we find our minds contracting around a busy thought state. The birds were having a jolly time as I recorded this so you’ll get to enjoy their contributions too!
There’s also an invitation at the bottom of this post for you to join me for six weeks of meditation, reflection, writing/creative integration - starting on 20 May, focused on one of my favourite practices (it’s a good one for any fellow over-thinkers out there and any of you looking to find greater support, comfort and ease in your practice).
I was sitting at my desk, scanning the news, searching for signs of both hope and despair, when I sensed him hovering in the doorway. A gentleman from Afghanistan who had just seen one of the counsellors at the charity that I worked for, which was devoted to providing advocacy and rehabilitative support for people seeking refuge in the UK after narrowly escaping horrendous cruelty – some with hope for a better life, some with no hope at all. Our unifying aim was to restore some modicum of hope, often against all odds.
We documented the geography and the horror of people’s journeys, supported them as they had to relay their ordeals, fought for their rights by gathering medical evidence and testimonies, lobbied the government to abide by international law. Fundamental to all of that – we listened, we observed, we talked and we sat with people, tending to whatever and however they showed up. We bore witness.
This particular gentleman, one of many people I had the pleasure and privilege to work with as part of my role writing and sharing their stories, had come to me with a DVD that he insisted I watch. It would apparently show me what was happening to people who, like him, had been, and were still being, tortured. Understandably, he seemed to need me to see in order to feel believed. I felt a responsibility, an obligation, to look, to validate and verify what so many bureaucrats were refusing to do.
Seeing images and reading the graphic details of how hundreds of people were harmed was part of my job. It was necessarily part of the charity’s ethos and raison d’etre to validate, to be there unreservedly, to not turn away, so that those with power and influence would have less excuse to do so.
I took the DVD from this client, looked him in the eye, and said it was safe with me. As he left, a senior colleague in the media team advised me not to watch it; “it won’t tell you anything that you don’t already know, and it won’t do any good to see it, you don’t need to see it”.
I knew he was right. I didn’t need to see more evidence. I already believed this man. As with every client the charity cared for, the proof was ample and well documented. Certainly, in my role on the communications side of things, I knew and saw enough to be able to do what I needed to do – stand by our clients and either support them to speak or speak on their behalf with total conviction when telling the media and government officials the truth.
And yet, then, as now, I find myself wondering – is it enough? How much is enough? How much can and should we bear witness to? How much is it useful to know? For those of us who do what we can and who have a choice, how much does it help/harm at some point, to say, enough, no more?
Being present is an act of hope
To witness something is to be present with a person or an experience, to see directly, to hear or know. To bear witness is to verify as true or real, by the very act of seeing, listening, and acknowledging. When you consider it that way, it’s a deeply significant, serious and humanising thing to do.
To pay attention, to listen deeply, to sincerely care, to not turn away, to witness and to grieve, to acknowledge and be horrified, to see and feel touched by, to hear and be sickened by.
There’s a reason we say we are “moved” by something we read or see – emotions are stirred as the energy within us motions us towards action, thoughts are stimulated towards provoking a response, our hearts are expanded to reach out from a place of our essential humanity. Witnessing, then, is the first mobilising step.
And yet, there are limits as to what our mind in its overwrought, overstimulated state can take, especially when already despairing and raging, or when trying to stay focused on the work at hand which equally merits our full attention. It can be an act of self and mutual care to those we wish to do well by to assert a mental boundary.
I wasn’t denying, dismissing or ignoring the client’s story by not watching that DVD. I explained to him, with some internal guilt I have to confess, albeit while reassuring him that I believed and knew what he told me to be true. That I’d help him tell his story, that I’d note every detail.
We are not alone in our struggles
Did it feel enough, in that moment, did I feel like I was doing enough? In all honesty, no. But I knew I was doing what I could. And that other people were, are, alongside me, doing all they could and can too.
One of the mental battles that I see people come up against, that I’ve come up against, is this idea of personal responsibility – feeling as though we have to take on the battles of the people we love, the causes we support, in their entirety, on our own. We can come to feel as though we shoulder the burden, weighed down by what truly is an unbearable amount of suffering. And when it isn’t us going through it, there can be the added weight of sadness, of guilt, of “how dare I care/do less, how can I not try to do more?”
A simple, profound way to counter that narrative is to remember that we are not as alone or as divided as those who would prefer us to believe that sometimes have us fearing. By finding people and communities who are committed to showing up in the same or similar ways, or at least with a shared intention to care and contribute to a better world.
People and communities that can hold space for us, for the joys and sorrows that life throws at us, where holding space means being present with, not turning from or explaining away, but simply acknowledging.
There’s power in validation, in bearing witness like that. In saying, “I see you”. In a world where so much and so many people are silenced, invisibilised, filtered out and shut down, when crisis after crisis, tragedy after tragedy, can lay our spirits low, to feel truly heard, seen and tended to, can be just enough to pull us up and out of a hole.
And crucially, seeing something is what inspires us to care about it, makes us say something about it, leads us to do something about it. Everything starts with bearing witness, with being present and attentive.
Holding space for it all
As the recent news of various election outcomes around the world rolled in, I found myself lamenting with many friends what we know and still despair as a predictable turning of the world’s politics towards increasing division and fear. Even when we see these things coming, even when we vote and act in ways to counter the hateful surge, their arrival is still dispiriting.
In the midst of this saddening and maddening dripfeed, as one dear friend and I exchanged texts about our respective countries, they dropped some pictures into our conversation of their garden and dog, with a simple note, “joy things.” I needed to see that. I was simultaneously spiraling downwards into fears about the descent of global politics into fascism, while trying to remember that this is a limited and limiting view.
Making space for joy things interrupted that momentum of negative, albeit perfectly valid, thinking.
Bearing witness means being present with everything, and in doing so, being careful that our vision and our view doesn’t become so tightly focused on the despair such that the very real reasons for hope, wherever and however we find them, are obliterated by a narrative that would serve those who seek to diminish our commitment to positive change. And we cannot allow that.
We have to make space for joy. Maybe out of defiance, more out of insistence, and mostly out of a realistic and ennobling belief in better things. We give ourselves a greater chance of being better, doing better, getting better, individually and as part of the communities we’re a part of, when we feel resourced.
All of which is to say, we have to bear witness, be present, for all of it, beauty and sorry, sadness and joy, despair and pleasure. It isn’t easy, It doesn’t always feel like it’s enough. But this open presence is a solid base for engaging with reality as we find it, and a place from which to keep our momentum going. Sometimes, for all sorts of reasons, bearing witness is all we can do. Letting that be okay can allow us to let go of the weight we carry that might otherwise diminish our spirit.
Put this into practice:
‘Let go, lighten your load, loosen your grip’ - six week course starting 20 May through to 24 June
Friends, I’m hosting a new six-week course of guided meditation, contemplation, reflection, creative integration (through writing prompts that you can use for journaling or expressing yourself in whatever way you choose) and insightful conversation - all the things that can help us take these practices into real life and make them work their magic.
We’ll be meeting for an hour online on Tuesdays, 12.30-1.30pm ET / 5.30-6.30pm UK, from 20 May through to 24 June. Recordings will be available if you can’t make the live practices.
This is one of my favourite and go-to practices that is deceptively simple and can help us to drop unhelpful habits of overthinking and restrictive patterns of controlling life’s narrative.
Each week will see us focus on a different quality of letting go, inspired by a classic teaching from the Indo-Tibetan Buddhist practice of Mahamudra, which is based on the life and lessons of the great sage Tilopa, whose fundamental liberatory advice is contained in six essential instructions: don’t recall, don’t imagine, don’t think, don’t examine, don’t control, just relax.
Hah, easier said than done - which is why we’re going to practice them!
We’ll dive into each of those six lessons, exploring the barriers we face, tips for overcoming those barriers, and practices through which we’ll formulate our own personal approach to each lesson, so that we can more easily integrate these ideas from a place of embodied experience.
Over the course of six weeks, we’ll dive into practices that will help us to:
Recognise and release old storylines
Get comfortable staying with ourselves in the present moment
Tend to the mind’s chattering without getting subsumed by it
Loosen the grip of our impulse to want to fix and figure everything out
Let go of control
Remember how to rest
Each class will include time for individual and shared reflection and insightful discussion. You’ll have the chance to ask questions and receive support from myself, and from other participants (if desired – one of the community agreements that underpin these spaces is the practice of not giving unsolicited advice).
Further details including the Pay What You Can (PWYC) options, registration form, and comments from previous participants on my courses, are all on my website - do take a look and consider signing up. These things are always better in trusted, co-created, caring community!
Paid subscribers to this here Substack page, will have additional exclusive access to a space for group online chat outside of our course time. I will also be on hand here to answer questions as they emerge for you in the week, in response to prompts and practice ideas that you’ll be encouraged to adapt and work with.
It’s the folks who come together that make these collective spaces what they are and I’d love you to be part of things. Feel free to spread the word and share the love (i.e. this post) with anyone you think might also benefit.
Finally, don’t forget you can also reach out for 1:1 well-being support, a service I’m offering as part of my practice and training as a spiritual caregiver. Again, low cost/PWYC. More on how that works is here. Tell your friends :)