The art of connection
MINDFUL MOMENTS # 156
I had two interesting experiences yesterday I’d like to tell you about.
The first: I went on a home visit for a 98 year-old patient, mostly just to touch base because she isn’t able to leave the house to come to the doctor’s. As all people are once you start talking to them, she was very interesting. Imagine being here for 98 years; it’s hard to know where to begin. She was very matter-of-fact and no-nonsense, in that way that a lot of people of that generation are. She had been recently watching some of the D-day programmes that were on ahead of the 80th anniversary. She said, in fact, D-day went over her head at the time, because they were still in the midst of war, so it hadn’t yet got the gravitas of those things that we often only recognise as momentous when we look back. She was an amusing lady, preferring to keep piles of newspapers and things in bags in the living room not only, she told me, to provide a softer landing if she fell, but also so that she would always see it and be reminded she still had something to do.
The second: I had a wonderful haircut at the new Lush Hair Lab in the Brighton Lanes. I felt a little guilty, loyal as I am to my wonderful hairdresser Paula in Hove, but my boyfriend Mark had been to shoot Lush’s opening day for their marketing and had raved about their incredible sensory massages, complete with steam, weight blankets and rainforest sounds.
There’s lots of time to reflect at the hairdresser’s. (There’s also lots of time to come out of the experience if we choose to look only at screens.) Pricey as it was, I wanted to use the few hours almost like a spa treat for myself. I had a cup of camomile tea reading the Lush newspaper; I started reading an interesting book called Hair/Power: Essays on Control and Freedom that was in the little hairdressing booth. But more importantly than that, I had an amazing conversation with the hairdresser. She specialises in low-sensory hairdressing for neurodiverse people and so we spoke a little about that; about how different people interpret touch, hair-washing, lights, colour and music so differently, and how we have to be sensitive to that. She then made a really interesting point which reminded me about Polyvagal Theory (which I guarantee you will all soon be experts on!).
Last week, we spoke about the hierarchy that exists within the nervous system, running from ventral (yay) to sympathetic (fight/flight), through to dorsal (shutdown). We introduced the idea that cues of safety and danger can either move us up or down the ladder. What we didn’t speak about was that, when under the control of ventral, time spent in sympathetic or dorsal can be positive. I like to think about it as always having one foot in ventral, whilst gently dipping the other into the high energy of sympathetic (e.g. for running a race, or play - where we need the mobilising energy of the sympathetic to initiate action) or into the (swirling vortex that is) dorsal, to allow safety in stillness - such as in meditation.
Speaking about the low-sensory option that Lush has in their Hair Lab, my hairdresser went on to describe (in so many words) how we can start to expand our window of tolerance that exists between states. If we find things like bright lights, loud noises and people to be overwhelming, it feels safest for our nervous system to exist, then, in low-lit, quiet environments, perhaps preferring to spend time alone or inside. By doing this, we stay in ventral. But if we can learn to dip our toe into a little of sympathetic - whilst still feeling safe (ventral) - we can start to expand our window of tolerance in this space. For example, if we gradually can enter into a space where the lights are a little brighter, or the volume a little higher, we can gently coax ourselves into feeling safe here. Our feeling initially might be to run away, but if we lean a little more into the foot that is on the ventral side of the doorway, we remind ourselves we are safe, there is no threat, we will be okay - and then our feelings of flight will start to dissipate.
In this way, I suppose, we are talking about expanding our comfort zones. The trick, then, is to gradually increase the volume - like you might gently coax a child into water for the first time - whilst maintaining cues of safety. If we go too quickly on the volume dial, we are likely to lose our footing in ventral and launch ourselves fully into sympathetic.
I appreciate that neither story from yesterday seems in any way related, except that I just felt that the experiences I had yesterday of talking to new people were such a great reminder to me of the importance of just this: meeting new people. As a videographer, always on the lookout for an interesting new documentary subject, Mark often says “everybody has a story” and it’s true - if we take the time to hear it.