what do a nick cave gig, meditation and learning to play the piano have in common? and how does this connect with therapy?
I recently went to see Nick Cave play in Lisbon. It was a transformative and spiritual experience, something I can only describe as feeling like being suspended between this life, death and a rebirth. A space of intense vulnerability, isolation, all encompassing connection, body aching love and light joy, where I felt uncertain of the edges or movement between each experience, whilst simultaneously knowing them well. The gig shook me to my core (quite literally as I was close to the stage) and I felt like I was coming down from some other worldly trip for days afterwards. I’m sorry if this sounds hyperbolic!
I have been engaging in about 30 minutes of daily meditation for a few months now. I used to meditate regularly, but with the recent journeys of life the practice fell from focus. Something called me back to it recently. I can’t say I experience what happened at Nick Cave, but intense moments occur, often accompanied by unanticipated emotion. And moments that also have me feeling suspended. Suspended between worlds, between timescapes, between knowledges, experiences and connections. And to draw back to my experience at Cave, I enter spaces that feel new, unfamiliar, uncertain with the profound sense in my body of somehow knowing these spaces very well.
Finally, I have been learning to play the piano for about a year. I say learning to play, but with full awareness of the unlearning I am doing in order to try and play. For me the experience has been less about learning notes or a new skill (honestly, I am far off), and more about turning towards and trusting what my body does know, or did once know before mind took up such a dominant position. I don’t mean my body once knew how to play the piano, but my body holds knowledges and instincts that thinking mind has cunningly taken over from. It is the fleeting moments that I unhook from mind and allow myself to fall into the suspended place that I hope body will catch and know what to do with, that I feel closest and most connected with this majestic instrument.
What does this all have to do with therapy? Or specifically the type of therapy conversations we invite people into, as I’d argue all of the above experiences are forms of therapy for me. I believe when people step into therapy there is a hope in stepping away from something known and familiar and, in doing so, an entry into a liminal space- where one is suspended between what is known and familiar and what one hopes to know, a passage of sorts. I would argue though that whilst new ideas may be discovered in this passage, what often happens is a connection with what people already know- whether that be a knowing in their body that mind has taken a dominant hold over; a knowing from a different timepoint when discourses, dominant ideas, societal norms perhaps has less unwanted influence; a knowing from communities, ancestors, the natural world that resides somewhere in their bodies, albeit experienced in abstract and non-defined ways. Knowledges are not found along linear pathways but shift direction, rupture, repair. And to connect with these knowledges, these bodily and community wisdoms, a suspension of sorts often takes place.
This is not just a one-way suspension. Each new therapy conversation is a liminality for me too, where I am invited to step somewhere unknown and unfamiliar, to share a particular space in a stranger’s precious world in the hope of being a helpful companion to them. There are always moments of not knowing, of feeling suspended between thoughts and a bodily response, of uncertainty or discomfort. There is a particular kind of trust I lean into in these moments or spaces, a trust that these are often the spaces where discoveries or meanings are made, where wisdoms are connected with, where seeds are planted to begin their onwards journeys. It is the moments of fluidity- where I feel I know what to ask and people know what to respond- that I am in fact somewhat suspicious. It is in these liminal “between spaces”, be it at a music concert, during piano lessons, meditation practice or during the “not knowing” in therapy conversations, that I believe and trust growth happens.
Thanks for reading and i’d love to hear your thoughts.
Fran