Ellie (as I'll call her here) arrived at our school with a fearsome reputation. I was warned: “Watch out! She’ll go for your eyes!” Unmanageable, sometimes violent, she had created ripples of stress among her former teachers. Our school catered for children and teens with emotional and behavioural difficulties. We handled high-adrenaline meltdowns on a regular basis. We were well trained in the art of de-escalation, but every so often someone got scratched, hit and kicked.
When I first met Ellie, the word that came to mind was 'neglect'. It was not so much the scruffiness of her clothes and hair. Something about her suggested a deep lack of trust. An absence of love. But I had the good fortune to work within a wonderful, skilled team. We put a plan in place with abundant positive attention, alongside 'planned ignoring'. Whenever Ellie engaged calmly with the life of the school, she got heaps of positive attention. But when she became aggressive, we ignored her, providing it was safe to do so. Guess what? Ellie was no fool. She soon caught on that hitting out was not what brought her the attention she so deeply needed. The strategy worked well. Day by day, she became happier and more settled. Well, most of the time! Ellie taught me an essential lesson - that the right kind of attention heals. It is one of our deepest human needs.
What do I mean by the 'right kind' of attention? Awareness rooted in kindness and care is supportive. Kind attention is an expression of love. It is at the root of the human connection that we all need to thrive.
From babyhood through to old age, we all need others to be aware of us. In our more vulnerable life-phases, survival depends on others noticing what we need. Loneliness and neglect - a lack of attention from others - weaken our mental and physical health. When these genuine needs are not met, the desire for attention can manifest in ways that are less welcome. When my 99-year-old Mum stopped being able to form a sentence, she started smacking people. Carers in her residential home had to keep her away from other residents. But we soon understood that hitting was her way of saying 'I'm here! Notice me!' Nowadays she sometimes gives a playful whack to family and carers, but it is rarely a problem. In fact, I find that it makes me smile.
It is important to get positive attention from others. But can we also give this to ourselves? At the heart of mindfulness is our ability to pay attention to ourselves, our own inner world. As best we can, we look with kindness at our own thoughts, feelings and sensations. We try to allow unwanted emotions, creating space for whatever experiences come along.
Last week I slipped and broke my kneecap. The bruises spreading from that small broken bone are spectacular. And it isn't only the knee that hurts. Life in a leg-splint brings daily challenges. I can use a broom to sweep the floor, but I cannot bend down to use the dustpan and brush. So, the dirt sits there, an annoyance in the corner of the kitchen. I have to perch on the edge of chairs because my leg can't bend. Uncomfortable! The doctor swept away my independence the moment he told me "no driving". It is easy to get frustrated. But when I notice that happening, I am - most of the time - able to recall that exasperation is pointless. My priority is to give the right care to healing the injury. That requires appropriate attention, minute by minute.
So, I am moving around with a more-than-usual degree of mindfulness. I can walk and do stairs, but I am slow. I have done a 'body scan' practise most days since the fracture. I am noticing how changeable the pain is. Sometimes my whole leg and hip are sore and tight. Yet as I pay closer attention to the sensations, they shift. Sometimes, I have a pleasant feeling of energy and warmth, as though I am sensing the healing process in real time. Noticing my body in this way feels nourishing. As with a damaged child, care starts with paying the right kind of attention.
If there is a helpful kind of attention, there must also be an unhelpful kind. Paying attention without compassion sooner or later leads to unkind judgement. I am guessing that we have all tried to avoid the attention of a scary teacher. We did not want their beady gaze to fall on us. They might tell us off the moment we got something wrong! Sad to say, many of us have internalised such responses towards ourselves.
The jumpy attention that comes when we are fearful can also be destructive. When stress hormones are coursing through our veins, our senses become hyper-alert. But the focus is on potential danger and we can exaggerate the imagined threats. When we are angry, we can become focused on somebody's faults. The quality of attention that arises from emotions such as anxiety or ill-will can cause harm. Yet, attention arising from kindness benefits both giver and receiver.
I have come to understand that kindness and the right kind of attention are two sides of a coin. Paying attention without kindness can lead to harshness and blame. Attention is healing only when given with kindness.
This is love. I find that I cannot give real love without paying the right kind of attention. This is the case whether towards others or to myself. Love without awareness of the person, feeling or situation has no basis in reality. It is a fantasy. A delusion.
Carolyn and I called our teaching partnership 'Love Mindfulness'. On an intuitive level, the words seemed right. Over the years I have come to see the name as a valuable reminder. Mindfulness is about paying attention - and doing so with love. I cannot imagine a better name for what we are all about.
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