self-compassion

politics and religion. right or happy?

| Sharon Clews

Are these words cringe-worthy?

We are often taught, much like never working with small children or pets, to avoid talking about politics and religion in polite company. Well – we can’t live in the world without being aware of either, so why do we advocate staying away from these topics? Is it because we don’t really understand the topics? I doubt it. Whilst we have many experts in these fields, and that isn’t always us, it doesn’t mean we have to give it a miss. We can still talk about these subjects whilst remaining curious and respectful even if we vehemently disagree. Can’t we??

I witnessed a discussion the other day, where ostensibly the two people having it were of the same political persuasion – but they had a very different take on events. They were both passionate about their viewpoint and they both wanted to be heard. They also wanted to make sure the other one knew who was in the right!

But it doesn’t have to be like this. If we are prepared to converse like adults – religion or politics shouldn’t be off limits. We all have opinions and these subjects tend to engender some hearty and animated discussions at times. All of that is fine. A difference of opinion is fine. A conflict is actually fine.

Conflict, quite simply is a difference of opinion. OK so the dictionary says “a serious disagreement or argument, typically a protracted one.” But we disagree…..surely that’s just splitting hairs. Right?

At the very core of conflict is this dis-agreement. As in there is no right or wrong – it is an agreement we either hold or we don’t. The “conflict” as such could be at polar opposites of the spectrum, or it might just be millimetres away.

It isn’t actually the conflict that causes the problems though – it is more than likely how we address it. If I rant and rave and you scream and shout – we are much less likely to meet anywhere in the middle. We are much less likely to learn something new. We are much less likely to remain calm and we are definitely much less likely to leave the discussion in high spirits or with a new-found respect for our conversational partner.

Religion and politics will always (sadly, in my opinion) be contentious areas of discussion. We all hold beliefs that are dear to us and we all at times, don’t want to be persuaded that we are “wrong”. A good friend of mine has always reminded me of the wonderful question:

Do you always want to be right, or do you want to be happy?

H Jackson Brown Jr.

When I asked my mother this once, she replied she wants to be both! Not really the point – but I see where she was coming from. Why is it so important for us to be right? Which is healthier? Which one will get us to a place of greater acceptance, more curiosity, increased awareness and healthier tolerance. I don’t think it’s being right. And – anyway, right according to whom? Right about what?

If we debate an issue, a disagreement, a conflict with an open mind, pausing to take in what the other person is telling us, really listening to their reasons – is there an opportunity for greater collaboration? Maybe. At times a conflicting discussion or argument is simply one way of belligerently ensuring we make the other person see our point of view. But what if there was another way? What if we went in with grace, kindness and curiosity about their opinion. What if we asked them a series of questions about their data or their viewpoint. What if we said things like “I’m not sure I see it that way”, or “I do think we hold opposing views”, or “that has never been my experience, I am keen to hear more” or “We may never agree on this topic, but let’s keep talking so we can both keep learning”.

If however, we go in with a point of making ourselves heard and right, and trying with all our might to persuade the other person that their opinion is worthless and we have the right one – then we miss those opportunities. We miss the opportunity to make ourselves vulnerable. We miss the learning something new, becoming more self-aware. It’s true, we might also miss a damn good fight or a blustering argument – but do we want to be right or do we want to be happy?

The 10th anniversary of cycling up some big mountains in France has made me think about resilience

The lake @ the top of Alpe d'Huez
| Sharon Clews

This is when the mourning starts. The Tour de France is over for another year and I can’t watch it for hours at a time, reminiscing about when I rode up some of those mountains myself.

It’s 10 years since that ride and also 10 years since I gave up alcohol – and I still can’t quite believe that I actually did it. The ride I mean – giving up booze was the easy part.

I was asked to join a friend and then she had to bail because of a knee injury. Something in me did not want to bail when I had the chance. Mentally, I had already committed to it you see – there was no backing out.

It was a total of 320km over 3 days, , and included 6 pretty tough mountains to get over. I wrote a bit about why I was doing it back then and why I was driven to achieve such an incredible goal. Of course, the more time I spend looking back on it, the more incredible it actually was. To be fair, it was without doubt the hardest thing I ever did.

I learned a bit about myself doing that ride. When you are cycling up 25km of mountain road with altitudes of up to 2600m – some 1st, 2nd and HC climbs (for the non-cyclists amongst us – HC stands for Hors Categorie – Beyond Categorisation! – They big ones!) you have a lot of time to focus on mental strength.

I told myself that getting off my bike wasn’t an option. I did get off once – just to see if it would be better and easier. Getting off on a steep gradient of 11% is NOT easier. Take it from me. How I kept going I will still never really know. At times it was reading messages of support that would occasionally pop into my phone. It was thinking of the money people spent sponsoring me, it was thinking of my best mate’s mum dying of cancer, regardless of how many kilometres I cycled. Basically it was thinking about anything other than giving up.

It was also about not caring. I genuinely didn’t care that other people were passing me. I didn’t care that one man at 75 years of age passed me on one of my worst days. I wished him “bonne journée” and stayed focused on my own challenge. It didn’t matter to me what was going on around me. I was in a group of 34 other cyclists and some of them were absolute champions. Some of them ascended Alpe d’Huez in just over 20 minutes. I lost count of how long it took me.

The lake at the top of Alpe d’Huez

The things that brought me extreme joy on those incredibly tough days were things like seeing Mont Blanc from the descent of the Col des Saisies en route to the Col des Aravis. The massive and rewarding descent off of the Col de Madeleine after a bloody tough ascent; sheep on the road that we had to navigate around, the sense of camaraderie between everyone on that ride, being helped up Alpe d’Huez by a bunch of other riders – all doing it together when I am fairly sure they could have done it faster without me dragging them behind, the friendships I have made, and the absolute sheer exhilarating experience of it. I look back now and am so proud of my achievements. It was worth all of that self-talk to take this experience away as mine.

As well as the joys – there were some utterly awful experiences too: I usually came in last on most stages – one day having spent 11 hours on the bike because I got lost going into the evening’s hotel; the cold, the rubbish food (as a coeliac) and gels, the frozen hands, the wet cycling kit…the list goes on. Then to top it all off, getting news about Rose dying as I was cycling up Alpe d’Huez. I stopped briefly for a cry then got back on my bike and kept going.

I had never thought of myself as resilient until then. Much like the Inner Critic, there is a voice in my head which tells me to keep going. I had plenty of opportunity to listen to the Inner Critic – because, make no mistake – it was having a field day about how rubbish I was, how unfit I was, how old I was… and yet – during this time I chose to listen to the one that told me it was only another 23km to go or, it was only 4 more hours on the bike, or I’m 44 and apart from the 75 year old man, I was kinda up there in age! I told myself out of the 34 people on that ride, only 3 of us were women – and that also helped. Those women were at least 20 years younger than me, and whilst I couldn’t quite keep up with them, I was still a girl – doing it for the girls!

Resilience is about how quickly we can recover to be able to front up again and again. On an endurance ride like that one, I had to give myself small goals to enable me to achieve the big ones. I had to countdown, I had to envisage getting to the end of that monumental climb having achieved that incredible feat. When I fast-forwarded that image into my head, I felt able to cope.

Sometimes we need a REALLY good reason to achieve our goals and sometimes we just need to know that “This too shall pass” and that the discomfort or pain or hurt, anger, whatever – will soon be ended. We will not only be back to our prior state, but we might just be richer for it.

It certainly holds some weight when I’m watching Le Tour!

Resilience is another way we can be kind and compassionate to ourselves.