Very insightful Swaran. My two bits (being in the midst of pressing, yet mundane work): I think over a dragging period of time, most rebellious sons and daughters begin to acknowledge their fathers even as they continue to question them. The tipping point occurs when they realize that their father was (or is) rather imperfect, and can be judged from a distance, just as anyone else could. Secondly, there is a large part of India (the South) where the woman of the house makes a mono-colour white rangoli called "kollam" outside the threshold every single morning, along with her daily prayers. The ritual is an act of communion with the divine, and hence with herself. The daily ritual signals to her neighbours (and hence to herself), a sense of continuity and normality. We do communicate with ourselves in so many ways, often to reassure ourselves that if not today, at least tomorrow will be better. You could keep writing for that reason too.
Sharad, you are spot on. We first love our parents as children, then we hate them as rebellious youth, then we forgive them as we become parents ourselves, then we understand them as we begin to understand ourselves, and finally, if we are lucky to live long enough and become wise enough, we love them again. As to kollam, I have seen. it but did not know its name. The divine, if it exists, is within, so if there is going to be communion it has be with the inner self. Not the ego of the west but the Sakshi of the East. Thanks my friend for the encouragement to keep writing. I will. Keep reading and commenting
Swaran, I loved your latest piece, and so, have downloaded substack and subscribed to The Witnessing Space. Sonia and I read your first piece about ‘being present’; it resonated profoundly with us. Your reflections on Amadeus have to do with your relationship with your father the critic. Yes, many of us carry that harsh inner critic, Don Giovanni, within us, perhaps for men emanating from their relationship with their father. Amadeus is a wonderful story (it is just a story I am told) and the character of Scalieri speaks powerfully to me: the ability to recognise and worship musical brilliance and beauty whilst knowing that one can never achieve it due to innate deficiencies. A cruel prison? My harsh critic speaking! Your words about Rangoli are quietly encouraging: “If passers by admire it, that is a gift. If no one notices, the act is still complete. The making itself is the offering.” So, “The hall may be empty. The father’s voice may echo. But the music will still come. [!]” Thank you for the encouragement. Keep writing, I am listening. Jonathan Wilson
Jonathan, you have no idea how much this means to me. I know the series is heavily dramatised, but it speaks to universal archetypes. Thank you for subscribing. And share with like minded folk. We should meet soon any way
Ian how wonderful to hear back from you. I am shocked to hear about health problems but sounds like are recovered. What’s the best way to keep in touch or meet up?
Lovely article. I’d love for us to have a conversation. I have a similar story. I heard my mother’s harsh criticisms long after she was gone. It took me a long time to recognize my understanding of the phenomenon might have been flawed. I am working consciously with my girls to understand feedback,discern love from judgement and criticism. My training as an ontological coach helped me tremendously with the emotions of guilt, shame.
Swaranji, this so resonates, especially the paragraph on father and son took me. down memory lane, how I was able to sit and have long conversations with my father after he was gone and he continues advising me until today. I love your writing style.
Hi Swaran, its been many years since last we spoke, probably in my office at HMP Birmingham? Since then I feel as though I have lived several different lives. 9 days in a coma with sepsis in 2016 followed by early retirement from the NHS. I then discovered my own love of writing and painting finding different mediums for my creativity from our background as psychiatrists using the spoken word to communicate our ideas and thinking and to assess the MS of the patient in front of us.
I have loved reading your posts and I would also love to speak with you to catch up and to share ideas. I think it would be a rich conversation for us both.
If that appeals to you, do let me know how I can contact you.
Very insightful Swaran. My two bits (being in the midst of pressing, yet mundane work): I think over a dragging period of time, most rebellious sons and daughters begin to acknowledge their fathers even as they continue to question them. The tipping point occurs when they realize that their father was (or is) rather imperfect, and can be judged from a distance, just as anyone else could. Secondly, there is a large part of India (the South) where the woman of the house makes a mono-colour white rangoli called "kollam" outside the threshold every single morning, along with her daily prayers. The ritual is an act of communion with the divine, and hence with herself. The daily ritual signals to her neighbours (and hence to herself), a sense of continuity and normality. We do communicate with ourselves in so many ways, often to reassure ourselves that if not today, at least tomorrow will be better. You could keep writing for that reason too.
Sharad, you are spot on. We first love our parents as children, then we hate them as rebellious youth, then we forgive them as we become parents ourselves, then we understand them as we begin to understand ourselves, and finally, if we are lucky to live long enough and become wise enough, we love them again. As to kollam, I have seen. it but did not know its name. The divine, if it exists, is within, so if there is going to be communion it has be with the inner self. Not the ego of the west but the Sakshi of the East. Thanks my friend for the encouragement to keep writing. I will. Keep reading and commenting
Swaran, I loved your latest piece, and so, have downloaded substack and subscribed to The Witnessing Space. Sonia and I read your first piece about ‘being present’; it resonated profoundly with us. Your reflections on Amadeus have to do with your relationship with your father the critic. Yes, many of us carry that harsh inner critic, Don Giovanni, within us, perhaps for men emanating from their relationship with their father. Amadeus is a wonderful story (it is just a story I am told) and the character of Scalieri speaks powerfully to me: the ability to recognise and worship musical brilliance and beauty whilst knowing that one can never achieve it due to innate deficiencies. A cruel prison? My harsh critic speaking! Your words about Rangoli are quietly encouraging: “If passers by admire it, that is a gift. If no one notices, the act is still complete. The making itself is the offering.” So, “The hall may be empty. The father’s voice may echo. But the music will still come. [!]” Thank you for the encouragement. Keep writing, I am listening. Jonathan Wilson
Jonathan, you have no idea how much this means to me. I know the series is heavily dramatised, but it speaks to universal archetypes. Thank you for subscribing. And share with like minded folk. We should meet soon any way
Ian how wonderful to hear back from you. I am shocked to hear about health problems but sounds like are recovered. What’s the best way to keep in touch or meet up?
iandigr@aol.com, drop me a line and I’ll send you my mobile number. I’m on FB and Instagram but not that active
Lovely article. I’d love for us to have a conversation. I have a similar story. I heard my mother’s harsh criticisms long after she was gone. It took me a long time to recognize my understanding of the phenomenon might have been flawed. I am working consciously with my girls to understand feedback,discern love from judgement and criticism. My training as an ontological coach helped me tremendously with the emotions of guilt, shame.
Yes, let’s speak about this. Our children teach us how to forgive our parents and be forgiven
Swaranji, this so resonates, especially the paragraph on father and son took me. down memory lane, how I was able to sit and have long conversations with my father after he was gone and he continues advising me until today. I love your writing style.
Hi Swaran, its been many years since last we spoke, probably in my office at HMP Birmingham? Since then I feel as though I have lived several different lives. 9 days in a coma with sepsis in 2016 followed by early retirement from the NHS. I then discovered my own love of writing and painting finding different mediums for my creativity from our background as psychiatrists using the spoken word to communicate our ideas and thinking and to assess the MS of the patient in front of us.
I have loved reading your posts and I would also love to speak with you to catch up and to share ideas. I think it would be a rich conversation for us both.
If that appeals to you, do let me know how I can contact you.
Much love
Ian