An Experience of Christ Consciousness (part 1)

Now, before any of you think I’ve gone all Christian and have taken up preaching from the rooftops let me explain what I mean.

A strange thing has been happening the last few days and I’m sure my baby son, Isaac has something to do with it. I had reached what would seem to be a crisis point on a personal issue I’ve been dealing with for some time. My ‘shadow’ seemed to be getting the better of me and I felt increasingly under its spell, resulting in stress and compulsive behaviours. What with lack of sleep and all the added responsibilities of being a protective parent it seemed as if some of my old issues were resurfacing. The ‘stress’ of being a dad was triggering other, old stress patterns in my psyche. My shadow-self was taking over.

But rather than fight I simply accepted my shadow, forgave it, thanked it for trying to protect me in the best way it knew how and got on with my day. I felt compelled to wear my caduceus (a present an ex girlfriend had bought me several years ago), knowing that it is a symbol of healing. And things started to change. As the day wore on I felt lighter, more connected to others, more empathic. I even smiled more!

And the feeling has continued. As I walked through town, pushing Isaac in his buggy I had a feeling of what can only be described as love for everyone and everything. I smiled and nodded at strangers. Most smiled back. I appreciated and marvelled at the invention of pavements, roads, buildings, streetlamps, traffic lights and the cars waiting at red. Even the music coming from the ones with their windows down (Gary boys’ music) was appreciated as God-given. (Previously, as like many people I’m sure, this was something I detested - numbskulls imposing their mindless racket on us, as if we wanted to hear it. But now I was fully accepting and even appreciative of it). Everything has its place.

Of course, when I speak of God I’m referring not to some bearded guy who sits on a cloud but rather some kind of natural order of things or ‘cosmic consciousness’. Some would call it Christ Consciousness. I don’t really know what to call it. Perhaps this is what being ‘born again’ is all about?

Whatever it is, I feel different. I passed people and wondered if they knew God was inside them. I silently wished them a good day. I heard teenagers swearing at each other in the park and wished for them to learn whatever lesson they were meant to be learning at that moment. I passed a girl who many would deem far too young to be a mother and wished for her to not only cope well but enjoy motherhood. I passed market traders and wished for them a day of abundance.

In a conversation with a friend who agreed with Buddha that ‘life is suffering’ I told her that I am feeling only joy. Anyone would say life is suffering when living on a grain of rice a day! I think what Buddha meant was that life inevitably involves suffering and that the idea of reincarnation and having to come back and do it all over again certainly seems like suffering. But how do we measure our joy without pain? What do we gauge it by? How do we know it is joy unless we have some knowledge of its opposite?

I shared with her the pain I experienced at the ending of a relationship and how tears had turned to laughter when I realised that these feelings of loss were the very same feelings that had been experienced by all the greatest novelists and songwriters who ever lived. Little old me now knew precisely what these ‘greats’ had experienced. I felt privileged to experience suffering. Again, everything has its place.

I see joy every time I look into Isaac’s eyes and he smiles back at me. He laughs quite a lot. It’s breaking my shield of cynicism. (I guess cynicism is par for the course at 42 but it seems to be softening). Last night I put him to bed and watched him fight sleep for a few minutes. I sat down beside his cot and he tossed and turned and kicked his legs about before eventually closing his eyes. His right arm was stuck up in the air, catatonically, before slowly coming down to rest as he drifted into sleep. And it struck me there and then that we would be together until the end. I was present when he came into this world. And, in all likelihood, he’ll be the one holding my hand when we say our final goodbyes at my death.

Hopefully that will be a while off yet. I’ve got lots I want to do. But with the total acceptance that I am feeling right now I could leave this earth tomorrow. I am ready to die.
Perhaps this is something we are all secretly hoping for? To overcome our fears of death and be ready for the moment when it comes. Most people, especially in the West never even talk about it. Like sex, it’s another of the great taboos. Maybe my own freedom from this fear has been responsible for this emerging ‘Christ Consciousness’, enabling me to appreciate life - and everything in it – much more so than ever before.

Of course, on one level I’m half expecting Mr Grumpy to return and moan at the Sunday drivers, the incorrect weather forecasts, the price of petrol (the list is endless so I'll stop there!) And then I’ll think of Isaac. And I will be aware that within every one of us is the seed of Christ Consciousness that grows through the stages of tolerance, acceptance, forgiveness, appreciation and love for everything in life, the joy and the suffering.

On Being a Dad and the Need to Prioritize

So, 12 weeks have passed since the birth of my son, Isaac. Where has that time gone?
I'm trying to take it all in, remember everything, all those little things that one so easily forgets. I take lots of photos but I should video far more. He's started smiling and laughing now and making really cute vocal sounds; his way of talking of course. I get the sense that he understands far more than we realise. It's great to observe his learnings. He's now learning how to co-ordinate his hand movements better and balance his head. He watches intently all that goes on around him.

Just the other afternoon I sat by his cot watching him dreaming. Have you ever watched your kids dreaming? His eyes were darting about all over the place under those closed lids. Knowing that REM sleep is the most highly programmable state I whispered some good words in his ear, the kind of things all kids need to hear. This, I suppose is something I'll always do in the hope that it will lay down positive templates in his unconscious mind.

He'll be a Liverpool fan for sure! A musician too. And he'll know all about hypnosis before he's 10. He'll learn how to influence people through the power of language. He'll have no problems attracting girls! Most importantly, he'll know that he is loved.

I don't want to force my own influences on him, of course! He'll be his own person. Perhaps like me and my father, he won't share my interests. My dad longed for me to have an interest in horses and wanted me to be a jockey. But everytime he took me and my brother to Newmarket races as kids we had more fun finding dropped coins after the racing had finished and everyone had gone home. My dad wanted me to live his own unfulfilled dreams and ambitions. Maybe we all do this with our kids? We want what we think is best for them. But we must stand back and let them carve out their own lives. Maybe, rather than try to influence them specifically it's best to foster ambition in them, a drive, a motivation toward something or toward endless possibilities. To think big. We all need a dream; something to aim for. Something to keep us focused and give us a sense of meaning.

I watched Derren Brown the other night on channel 4 o d and his new show 'Hero at 30,000 feet'. Amazing stuff and watch it if you want to escape a life of mediocrity. www.channel4.com/programmes/themes/derren-brown

Isaac being in my life means that I have decided to take my foot off the pedal with regards The Lullabys. I want to see him grow. This doesn't mean that music has come to grinding halt. I am writing new songs and have started recording some demos in my home studio which I will put up on www.myspace.com/gavindavidroberts. The songs will be released in 2011 either as an EP or I may go all the way and put out a full album. This will be solo stuff (not The Lullabys) and I'm toying with a new stage name. Or should I just go as Gav Roberts? I dunno. Music will always be a part of my life. It's how I process my emotions and is my creative outlet.

Last week I spent a few days in Prague with my brother, Jules. It was good to re-connect with him and was the first time we've ever been away together. It reminded me of the times we used to go away camping with mum and dad. Nearly 30 years have passed since then. We're both parents now but not much else about us has changed. We still laugh at the same old things, still support Liverpool FC, still love The Beatles. But aside from that we are poles apart. He is a homebody, not helped by a history of anxiety. I long for adventure, the romance of new places, new people, new experiences. How could we turn out so differently? How could two brothers, who went through the same kind of upbringing now have totally opposite outlooks on life? Ju won't mind me mentioning all this. He's been having CBT but it's not helping. I've heard it so often now. People come to me after months of counselling or CBT and they actually feel worse, not better. I'd be his best therapist but I'm too close to him. I want to help him and have suggested he read all he can about the Human Givens and finds a therapist who uses this approach. Go here for more info http://www.hgi.org.uk/ . It's the approach I use in my practice as a hypnotherapist. It works.

So, being a dad, spending time with my family and with my brother has helped me to prioritize things. It's helped me to realise just what's important to me. People. Making and keeping connections with those who matter most. Sure, we must all have our dreams and fantasies but these must not get in the way of the real stuff. Real people and real lives with all it's ups and downs. All of it is beautiful.

Like my son Isaac, I will focus on what's in front of me and learn from it all I can.

SKY EAGLE - the story of baby Isaac's journey into the world

Hey!

It's been quite an adventure over the last few months and to help me make sense of it all I've put my thoughts down on paper.

Below is my account of my son Issac's journey into this world. It's broken into three seperate chapters. So, put the kettle on, pull up a chair and have a read if you've got a few spare minutes.

DEATH AND LIFE IN ONE DAY

It’s early February and I’m not long turned 42 years of age. I’ve just shuffled into the chapel of rest with my Mother, Father and Aunt. I’m looking at the body of my Grandmother, the first dead person I have ever seen. She looks peaceful and there’s even a hint of a smile on her face. The formaldehyde and make-up has done its job.
We each lean over the coffin, one at a time and say a few words and our goodbyes, all of us shedding tears, mostly silently; open expression of emotion was never practised much in our family and if it ever was I, and maybe everyone else, feared that the tears would flow for eternity and we'd all have to run to safety, like the animals on Noah’s Ark to save from drowning. They never do, of course. The emotions subside, but the fear has always prevented the type of open wailing you see in other countries. What is it with us British? I was eight when Granddad died and there wasn’t much more than a snuffle when the news was broken to me at the dinner table. It’s been a long, drawn-out process in learning how to feel and express my emotions.

When we’d said what we wanted, or as much as our emotional conditioning allowed us to, someone pulled the veil back over her face and it was time to leave. Only memories and photographs will remind us of her face now. We’ll never get to see it again.

She’d been ill for a few weeks with chest problems and must have suspected that her life was nearing its end. Surely all of us, in our later years will wonder if we will wake up the next morning? Towards the very end my mother told me Nana had whispered, “I’ve got to say goodnight to you all”, to the family members who were there. She must have known she was dying.

The last time I saw her – a few weeks before her death – she was in good spirits and I showed her photos on my laptop. She was always amazed at modern technology, though most of her life she’d taken technophobia to the extreme by having been frightened of all electrical appliances and even plug sockets. Most of our conversations were about the ‘old times’ and she would tell me about the war and the jobs she’d done throughout her life. I always loved to hear her recount these tales and I suspect she loved telling them, over and over and over again! At 97, even though she was no longer able to walk, her mind was as sharp as ever, if only a little forgetful with names at times. She’d spent the second half of her life with just one arm, the right one amputated at the elbow in her early 50’s because of cancer. As a kid I never knew the reasons why she had a metal hook instead of a hand. On Sundays she’d replace this with a plastic hand and glove before she went to chapel. She spent the last 34 years of her life as a widow, always loyal to my Granddad with whom she was now reunited.

What had kept her going for so long, sitting there in that nursing home, spending most of her time alone? I wonder if she wanted to die? Do we all reach an age toward the end when our life’s work is done and we just can’t wait to die and escape the drudgery? Or are some of us lucky enough to live life to the full right up to the end? Do we wonder how it will happen? Do we think of suicide? This must be a time when you hand over complete trust to the will of God. Either you will wake up the next morning or you won’t.

Stepping outside into a light snow shower, as the long winter continued I felt utterly depressed. ‘Is this what it all comes down to then?’ I asked myself, ‘ending up in a wooden box? What’s the point to any of it? If we’re all going to die and end up in a hole in the ground or incinerated, why bother living at all? What’s the purpose to life? What’s the reason for me being alive?’

As I reached my car my phone rang; it was Keziah. She told me the midwife had just left and she’d heard the baby’s heartbeat for the first time! And that was reason enough to be alive. This news managed to lift my gloom somewhat. Maybe there is a point to life after all? I pondered endings and beginnings, fantasized that somehow Nana’s spirit was in contact with the baby and that she knew about the first hearing of the heartbeat. Such thoughts gave me solace and helped me through the next few days and the funeral.

Nana knew before she died that I was to have a child. At 42 I never thought it would happen and didn’t really want it to; I was enjoying my care-free life. I’d been told by a doctor three years previously that I was highly unlikely to ever father a child. Me and my partner at the time had been trying on and off for about six months but nothing was happening. I sent a sperm sample off to hospital and the results came back as low...very low! I’d saved myself all week, wanting to give a good, manly, porno-star load only to find out later that this ‘saving myself’ could well have caused the low count. Apparently had I relieved myself the night before then again in the morning and used this second load as the sample, the sperm count would probably have been much higher because of the fresher batch of newly formed sperm. Anyway, a few months later we broke up and I started writing songs about love, loss and hope.

And so it was. I became a statistic; one of the 25% of men in their forties who can’t father a child. Some men, maybe most men, would have been extremely sad to hear this but I just shrugged my shoulders and got on with life. My life – forever free of any responsibilities such as kids, or so I thought.

When I met my next partner I believed I’d found the perfect relationship; she had two kids, a 13 year old boy and 10 year old girl and didn’t want any more. With me firing blanks there was no danger. I soon developed a close bond with her children and they made me the most touching ‘Like a Dad’ card on the only Father’s Day I had with them. They told me they now knew what it was like to have a ‘dad’ and I was getting an idea of what it was like to be a dad. I liked it. I treated them like my own and thought ‘this is it’ and was fully prepared to settle down. But after just seven months we broke up. My high expectations of this being ‘the one’ and it not going to plan devastated me. More songs were written to make sense of it all and help me through it. Then came internet dating sites.

It wasn’t more than a few weeks before I was making contact with new women but my ‘Plenty of Fish’ profile was littered with emotional scars and bitterness, bordering on misogyny. However, one such girl gave me a chance. We chatted on msn and she could see that my profile wasn’t a genuine reflection of myself. That person was Kez and we met for the first time on November 3rd 2008. She too was still in love with her ex. But despite this being a rebound for both of us we hit it off and I liked her 7 year old son and once more I’d stumbled across – or unconsciously created – the perfect scenario. Even though I wasn’t really looking for kids it had happened again. Let’s face it, most women out there in the age range that I was looking for would have kids or would want them in the future so I would have to get used to the fact. But it also seems that I was unconsciously driven to have a relationship that would involve children, if not my own then someone else’s. Maybe I did want kids, or at least be ‘like a dad’ to some child? The experience I’d had taught me that I could do this, that I could be a father-figure, that I had what it took.

However, the issue about kids was a real stumbling block for me and Kez. Apart from the fact that we were both still emotionally attached to our ex’s, she wanted another child at some point. I told her I couldn’t produce one and that I didn’t want one anyway. We nearly broke up a few times because of this rather huge clash of desires. But something kept us together. Maybe we didn’t want any more heartache? Maybe, because I’d built up a strong relationship with her son neither of us wanted to hurt him? He needed a male role model. All kids do, especially boys. I started to really grow into this ‘stepdad’ role. It wasn’t easy and it still has its challenges eighteen months later. I suppose it always will. So, the issue about another child was put aside until the next time. And there were a few more next times over the first year of our relationship.

SKY EAGLE IN THE MOUNTAINS

To celebrate the anniversary of our first date we decided to spend some time in Spain, visiting Kez’s mum in Lorca. Sensibly, we arranged a car-hire so we could escape if need be and do our own thing. We planned a five day drive across the Sierra Nevada and in particular the Alpujarras. We left her son with Kez’s mum and off we went up into the mountains.

In retrospect this was one of the happiest and most memorable times of my life. We visited the spectacular Alhambra Palace in Granada, loved shopping in the little mountain villages and went to a 5000 year-old burial site. But it was being in the mountains and appreciating the scenery that I will remember the most. We hired a cottage near Orgiva and spent our days journeying here and there, stopping to take photos. It took me a while to get used to driving a left-hand-drive car on the wrong side of the road, thousands of feet up, often with no barrier at the side to protect us. One false move and that’s it; you end up pulped in some dry river bed. On one particular drive Kez kept stuffing big Spanish olives in my mouth, the best I’ve ever tasted. Little did I know that olives supposedly make a man more potent. She knew what she was doing!

One day we discovered the whereabouts of a Buddhist monastery. We were directed up a mountain and the road got more and more narrow, snaking this way and that, eventually turning into a dirt track. Again, with there being nothing to stop us going over the edge, I drove with white knuckles around each bend, being grateful there was nothing coming in the opposite direction and wondering how much higher this road would take us as we were starting to get dizzy! We decided to park up and walk the rest of the way. And it was here we saw our first eagles, flying within yards of us. That’s how high up we were. After a twenty minute walk further up the mountainside we reached the monastery and meditated beside a Buddhist shrine and huge prayer wheel. Om Mani Padme Hum. Apart from a couple of others we were the only people up here.

The eagles put in another appearance the following day as we travelled up another mountain where, once again, the road became dirt and we walked the rest of the way. You really needed a 4x4 to drive up here and I didn’t have much faith in my hired Citroen. Nothing to do with it being French, I just didn’t like it. Only later did I learn that you could actually drive right over the mountain in summer. But with this being November I wasn’t going to chance it, despite there being a heat wave. So, we found a comfortable spot and meditated some more. When I had finished I turned around to look at Kez and saw an eagle flying just ten feet above her as she lay motionless on the grass! We later wondered if the eagle was eyeing her up as its next meal! It was a magical moment and Kez told me that as she lay there with closed eyes she felt the gentle movement of its wings as it flew above her. For sure, eagle spirit was with us. We carried the magic of the moment in our hearts as we made our way back down the mountainside.

It got me wondering. Do we ever really appreciate the moment as it happens or is it always in retrospect that the moment becomes more significant than it felt at the time? If we look back at photos with fondness, happiness and nostalgia and long for such moments again, does it mean we are less happy right now compared to back then? And if so, what can we do about it? Can we recapture the moment? Can we relive it and fully embrace the feelings that we feel now as we reflect nostalgically on a previous special moment? Of course, we can’t live our lives retrospectively. Perhaps that’s my Nana’s influence on me – looking back at the past, telling old stories about the supposed ‘good old days’.

The truth is that us human beings can’t exist solely in the present moment. We are a species who are directed ‘toward-the-future’. It is our goals, hopes, desires and projects that give us purpose and meaning. And all of these are future-based. Take them away and we have no meaning in our lives, no purpose. But even if we took our goals away and had no sense of purpose or meaning we still could not live in the moment. All that we see and do is influenced also by the past. Our previous experiences shape our perceptions, our thoughts, attitudes and feelings. What has gone before will influence how we respond to circumstances that are happening now. We have learning experiences that the brain remembers so that we don’t have to learn again every time we tie our shoe-laces or make a cup of tea. And the ‘big’ learning’s are definitely remembered to help us deal with perceived dangers now or in the future. But it is all based on what we learned in the past. Nothing is completely new. Yes, you might find yourself in new surroundings or in a novel situation but your brain is already looking for memories of previous similar circumstances to help ensure your survival should the need arise. The present moment is influenced by the past. Having a ‘beginner’s mind’, one of the fundamentals of Zen, is impossible to achieve and even more so to maintain.

But I think the essence of Zen – and maybe life itself - is in living each moment with the feeling that retrospection/nostalgia gives you but in fully appreciating the significance of each moment - as it actually happens. It’s about being able to fully appreciate the beauty of the moment as it occurs (from the big events to the small, from the joy to the sorrow) and fully appreciating life right now. If we can master this we won’t have to look back more fondly to the past or hope for a better future because we fully lived the moment as it happened. Maybe only then can we be in the moment and have that ‘beginner’s mind’?

KEZ’S PREGNANCY AND BIRTH EXPERIENCE

Come December and back in England, Kez was unusually late for her period. Shit! We waited and waited and finally decided on buying a pregnancy test...which proved positive!! The doctors were bloody well wrong; I could father a child! Eagle spirit had made it happen, for sure. We were both happy. And we pretty much knew the night of conception back in Spain a few weeks earlier.

My mum and dad were overjoyed when we told them. Like me, they never thought I’d have a kid; too free-spirited they suspected. Me and Kez soon decided on baby names; Isaac for a boy and Kadecea for a girl. We wouldn’t know the sex of the baby until birth, not wanting to spoil the biggest surprise of one’s life. I really can’t understand people who want to know what’s in their Christmas presents before they open them. The scans we had didn’t show much, other than what looked like an arm waving at us. Kez had no cravings or morning sickness, only tiredness which was mostly caused by iron deficiency. I busied myself in getting the complete house redecorated and together we bought baby stuff, which seemed totally alien to me. Gav in Mothercare? Surely some mistake there?

For months though, I was flatlining. I just couldn’t get excited about it. When people asked me I just told them I wasn’t really feeling anything. Maybe I’d turned off all my emotions to deal with my fears of loss of freedom? I had no fears of the actual birthing process and trusted completely in natural birthing. Hell, I even teach women hypno-birthing techniques. Women’s bodies have been doing it for millennia. And we had eagle-spirit with us, anyway. But with my life going pretty well I guess I was concerned about the impact of a baby and the added responsibilities of parenthood.

The Lullabys tour helped me escape into music for a while but even this was interrupted when I developed tendonitis in my right elbow and had to rest for a few weeks. This was my Nana’s doing, I’m sure. Remember, her right arm was amputated at the elbow. Some kind of psychic message from her? My way of holding onto her memory? A message to let go of the past, to release my grip and the tension in my body and numbness in my heart? Surely I was supposed to be ecstatic about this? This is what you do when you grow up, isn’t it? You get married, get a huge loan from the bank to buy a house and have kids. Having failed with the first two – or succeeded in avoiding them – I’d had no ‘rite of passage’ into adulthood. I was still a boy inside. I hadn’t grown up. I hadn’t done the marriage thing or the house, and kids?! You’re joking. Nothing had prepared me for this.

We knew immediately that we wanted a natural home birth and eventually got all the parts for a tipi. (It took forever to source the poles, searching the internet, but we eventually found some locally from an acquaintance of Kez’s). It was great fun learning how to erect the tipi and it has inspired me to seek out other alternative ways of living. I want to escape this consumerist society that many of us feel trapped in and live in a field somewhere in a tipi, yurt or log cabin. I want to get ‘off the grid’ and live as naturally as possible, free of all the stresses of modern life. As long as I have my friends, family and my guitar, I’ll be fine. Oh, and maybe my laptop with an internet connection!

The nine months passed by in the blink of an eye. I’m sure that’s an age thing, time speeding up. But the last few days of Kez’s pregnancy seemed to drag. Isn’t it extraordinary how time distorts depending on how we feel and what’s going on? The due date came and went.
I was playing a gig when I got the call that her waters had broken. I was home within the hour to see Kez experiencing her first contractions, known as surges in the world of hypno-birthing. I fully expected that tonight would be the night. I made final preps for the garden and tipi and contemplated my final few hours as a ‘free man’. But it was here that my excitement started to build. Suddenly it all started to feel real. I was about to become a daddy!

But nothing happened that Sunday night. Kez’s cervix wasn’t dilating and the surges remained mild enough for her to sleep. Come the morning we endeavoured to get the dilation going, so we walked around the village, did various other things, all in an attempt to ensure the natural home birth that we both wanted. But by 4 PM, some 26 hours after her waters had broken, and with the threat of infection – and because she still wasn’t dilating – the midwife advised us to go to the hospital. Kez would need oxytocin on a drip to get her to dilate. Our natural home birth wasn’t to be and we were both extremely disappointed. We reluctantly packed some things, including all we would need for the baby and set off for Colchester General.

There followed the longest night of my life. Choosing at this point not yet to have the drip, wanting this birth to be as drug-free as possible, Kez’s surges continued all through the night, growing in intensity. She breathed herself through them but I felt utterly helpless. Apart from providing her with food, water and reassurance there was little else I could do. The worse thing was that she still wasn’t opening up. It would seem that, no matter what we did, Kez wasn’t producing her own oxytocin to help her dilate.

The hours dragged on and I got half an hour of broken sleep on the hard hospital floor at about 4 in the morning. Thankfully, come 9 AM, Kez’s friend, Natasha arrived with her homeopathic remedies and her support. I took a break and wandered down to the main hospital where I found a charity book stall selling books at 25p. There must be something here worth reading, I thought, as I searched through the usual trite romance novels. I found a book called ‘Driving Over Lemons’ and what would appear to be just another book took on synchronistic proportions when I read the back cover; it was about a couple’s experiences in Spain...in the Sierra Nevada...in the Alpujarras!!! The very place this whole baby thing had started and where the baby was conceived! In the book, the couple actually buy a house near Orgiva – the town close to where we rented a cottage for three nights. I took the book back to Kez’s hospital room, along with a copy of The Sun and started reading right away whilst Kez’s surges continued.

By 1.30 PM and still no sign of dilation – stuck at 1.5 cm – we decided on the oxytocin drip. Within half hour her real labour began. We were now at 48 hours since her waters had broken. Fearing the baby getting infected we knew things had to start moving soon, and they did. With Kez’s birth music continuing in the background, me and Natasha weaved our magic (or was it the oxytocin?), giving Kez reiki healing, overtone singing and using Tibetan Bowls as Kez rocked back and forth in a rocking chair, using the deep breathing techniques she had learned as the surges intensified yet further.

At about 4 PM Kez’s cervix had opened to 4 cm. Yes! We were all joyous at this and it spurred us on to continue. Kez went deeper and deeper into her experience and she handed me the ‘tens’ machine she had been using to control the discomfort of her surges. Now I had the responsibility to control it and watch her closely each time she had a surge, at which point I would press a button on the machine to help her ease through it. With Natasha giving remedies (to the both of us!) and with the midwives doing their bit every time they came in, it felt like a real team-effort taking place as we marched onwards toward the goal.

8 PM – 7 cm!!! Time for a breather. I went outside, knowing that the moment was approaching; I was soon to become a dad. By this time I was fully on autopilot. Having had just those 30 minutes of sleep the night before, it was the adrenaline keeping me going now. My legs didn’t feel like my own.
Before I went back into the room I asked a midwife how much longer this was likely to go on for. She predicted that the baby would arrive ‘in the early hours’! No way! That’s far too long, I thought. I went back in to find Kez now standing up, swaying her hips in a circular motion, doing some kind of birth dance. She was deeply hypnotised by now, right in the experience, like some kind of Shamanic initiation ceremony. A rite of passage, indeed.

She looked at me and pulled me to her and we stood there together, swaying gently as her surges intensified even more. It was like the final push to the summit. I encouraged her to ‘keep breathing’ and I breathed with her, our faces touching and lips kissing. The midwives told us the baby’s head was out! A few more breaths and Isaac was born at 9.46 PM, only an hour after I returned to the room. Kez was encouraged to squat down and saw that we had a little boy. Everything became even more surreal and in a dream I cut the umbilical cord before stripping off to my underpants, having been told that babies need skin-to-skin contact. So there we were, me, Kez and baby Isaac, all in bed together, blood and stuff and tears everywhere but I didn’t care. We had done it! I was a daddy! And I was so proud of Kez. Despite us not having the home-birth we both wanted, the birth itself had been as natural as possible. Aside from the oxytocin drip, Kez never needed any pain relief, using her deep breathing to flow with the surges.

After getting cleaned up and weighed (a surprisingly large 9lb 7 oz), Isaac spent the first night in the Special Care Baby Unit as he was a bit croaky, sounding like a little baby eagle. Well, he would, wouldn’t he. Within a couple of days he was up in the ward with mummy, breathing normally and within a week was brought home. The irony is that, although the tipi was bought for the birth, I am the one now using it! Baby Isaac, like all babies cries a lot, especially at night. So, come 10 o’clock I traipse down the garden and settle down to another night out in nature, underneath the stars, with sky eagles watching over me from some faraway mountain.

My Thoughts on The Lullabys Love, Loss and Hope Tour 2010

It’s two weeks since the final show of The Lullabys tour and although I’m enjoying the rest I’m already missing the buzz that only music can give me.

The Constitutional Club in Bury St Edmunds was sold out. People – our fans! – entered to candlelit tables, many of them greeted by myself and Brett. I’m glad I took the time to stand back and take it all in, watching the place fill up. You could sense the anticipation. We had created this. I looked at Brett and told him we must remember moments like this, sentimentalist that I am.

Of course, the whole evening passed by all too quickly – as is often the case when you are lost in the moment, when time loses all meaning. Those moments when you forget yourself. Perhaps it is these moments we remember the most? When you forget yourself, you can remember the moment. Seems paradoxical but, free of your own baggage, your concerns, insecurities etc., you can immerse yourself in the ‘now’ and take in details you would have been blind to otherwise.

I was amazed at the reaction of the audience; loud cheering after every song! And afterwards I was told that even the road crew were singing along! People are getting to know these songs of love, loss and hope! They hold meaning to not only myself, but to an increasing number of people.

On the night I had a sore throat, the beginning of what would become a terrible head cold the next day. Thankfully, my voice – and my tendonitis (which had caused me to have to cancel three gigs before) - held out just long enough. The adrenaline got me through it.
Lee, our permanent ‘guest’ on bass guitar later told me that a friend of his had said that The Lullabys was the best thing he had ever been involved with in music! And we’re talking thirty years here! Another friend of his said it was pretentious bollocks! James Blunt and his music have been thus labelled. I don’t care what people think! Lee said he was quite emotional after the show, not knowing whether it was the end of the road for his involvement with The Lullabys. It seems that this band and these songs touch people on some level. That’s the whole point. To get people more in touch with their own emotions; to at least begin to acknowledge their feelings and then to accept and express them healthily. Only today I watched ‘The Lives of Others’, one of the best films I’ve ever seen and sat there with tears streaming down my face. How I love it when art can affect one so profoundly. That’s what I’m talking about.

Throughout the eleven weeks travelling the length and breadth of East Anglia, myself and Brett had honed our stagecraft. Anecdotes and stories, building a relationship/connection with the audience, spontaneous humour, poignancy, intimacy. I have to chuckle to myself when I think back to a gig earlier in the tour when the landlady of a pub told us during the break that we talk too much. “I paid for music, not talking!” she said. Get a covers band in then! Or a jukebox! We put on a show – we involve the audience, we banter, we want them to feel a part of it. At the end of the night we took our money, knowing we’ll never go back there.

And that’s what you find out on tour. As well as honing your craft, you find out the good venues from the mediocre. It soon became clear to us that your good old traditional English pub, used to bands playing rock covers just ain’t cut out for original songs about love and loss. They would prefer to hear Purple Haze or All Right Now, played to perfection, as if you were listening to the record. You might as well be! Where is the art in that?!

Take, for instance the fiasco of the Dirty Penguin in Colchester. We turned up only to be told live music had been stopped two weeks previously because the pub couldn’t afford to pay the bands! Nice of you to let us know, you wankers! Not to be undone, Brett got talking to a bloke across the road, who ran down to the Brewer’s Arms. So, we set up and did the gig there instead. They were a football-type crowd and would never get us in a million years but it was a good practice session for us, which is something we never do! Indeed, Lee had just one session with us before the tour and then learned the bass lines by listening to mp3’s. Thankfully, we didn’t find any other Dirty Penguins on the tour.

And thus, my personal favourite gigs (aside from the Con Club) would include the showcase we did at CB2 in Cambridge where we made some lovely new and very attractive friends! We had been used to playing with a full PA system, mics, amps, the lot. But not at CB2. Not a mic or amp in sight – pure acoustic. You could hear a pin drop – and we loved every minute of it. And so did the audience, judging by their reaction. They sat there, watching my every move up and down the fret board, listening intently. I’ll remember it also for our new Hungarian friends. Eszter had a tear in her eyes after hearing, ‘I Don’t Belong To Anyone’. We shall return, for sure.

The Greyhound in Wivenhoe was another lovely little gig. And I mean little; there was hardly room to move on stage as we were hemmed into a corner. But people loved us and more real friends were made in chance encounters. That’s how the good stuff happens.

It’s always a delight to play with our Big Red Boat friends and we enjoyed the shared gig at The Flying Dutchman in their home town of Lowestoft. And for some reason we got involved with Bury Busk, raising money for Cancer Research. I say ‘for some reason’ because the busk involved us performing in six different locations in Bury town centre for over four hours, having to move all our gear around with us in temperatures reaching eighty degrees! Thankfully, we had a trolley, and with our sign on permanent display everyone soon knew who we were! Blatant advertising, but I’ve learned that you can’t rely on others’ to promote you; you have to do it yourself, even if it means getting sunburnt.

We returned to the Abbey Gardens a couple of weeks later for the ‘Services’ day. The weather held out and people sat and picnicked whilst watching us, including a certain Ms Richardson about whom many of these songs were written during and after our break-up in 2007. It was the first time I’d seen her with her little baby. I’m genuinely happy for you, Jax! A sure sign that I must have moved on?

And we loved Lockstock at Geldeston. On the way we simply had to stop when we saw Starsky and Hutch's car parked by the road side and had our picture took beside it. Then, at the venue, which we arrived at after driving down long, winding dirt tracks we were told that we’d be playing in the bar and not on the main stage as we had expected. Worse than that, but there was no PA. Okay, no PA usually means an intimate, attentive audience, but everyone was outside, watching bands on the main stage. Nobody was in the bar! This was going to be a washout! It’s no fun playing to nobody. Me and Brett thought about going home.

But again, the phoenix rose from the ashes. Lee rigged together a makeshift PA whilst me and Brett did our marketing bit and went outside, handing everyone a flyer and business card, telling them we were about to play in the bar. Within minutes, and about 3 songs in, the bar was full and cheering like a football crowd after each song. New venue, new people, songs they had never heard before! What’s going on here? Brett was on a roll and the crowd were in hysterics at almost everything he said! Spontaneous humour. People flocked in from outside to find out what all the fuss was about.

The same reaction was experienced at Norwich Arts Centre. Again, a simple little set-up and an attentive, appreciative audience who were there the listen to music, not chat idly with their friends about the World Cup or what happened on Eastenders last night. It is the folk club scene that we are headed toward. The final show at the Con Club only confirmed this.

And so, eleven weeks of hard graft, fun, laughter, adventure, love, loss and hope came to an end on June 26th. But, as someone once said, “It’s only the end of the beginning.” Before we hit the road again my life will change forever. In just a couple of weeks from now there is the small matter of me becoming a dad for the first time. I am nowhere near prepared for it; others tell me nobody ever is. You can’t be. Like the tightrope walker who, halfway across and realising there is no safety net and then almost loses his nerve, I know there is no going back. So it’s onwards and upwards to who knows where. What is certain is that the experiences over the next few weeks will add fuel to the creative fire burning within me, where new songs are already starting to materialise from somewhere in the ether. These could be real love songs! But they all are. Because, without first having love, you couldn’t have loss.

Thanks to everyone who made the tour possible; Mark at Feel Good Media who booked the gigs and promoted us like crazy on local radio shows; all the people who came to support us (you know who you are); Lee on bass who has added an extra dimension to our sound and of course Brett for all his hard work, effort and belief in my songs. It means a lot, mate. Roll on Hatchfest on August 1st. See ya there!

Gav x

The Lullabys Tour and New EP

Hey all.
Just wanted to say a few words.
Tomorrow, Friday 16th April sees us unleashed onto the unsuspecting public of East Anglia. Not that we're a threat or anything, what with our gentle lullabys of love, loss and hope.
We kick off in Beccles and the tour will see us go all over East Anglia. Check out the website for gig listings. More are being added at the last minute and we'll also be doing some radio interviews too, like the one we did on Sue Marchant's show on BBC radio last week.
The tour ends on June 26th at the Constitutional Club in our home town of Bury St. Edmunds. It'll be another night of candlelit tables, nibbles and dips and great music from ourselves, Big Red Boat and Hannah Vesty. Tickets are £10 and you get a copy of our new EP with that. Tickets are available on-line now. Check out http://www.thelullabys.com/ before they are all sold out!

Talking of the new EP, the official release date of 'Love, Loss and Hope' is May 24th. This is when everyone will be able to download it from iTunes and amazon and the like. Until then, you will be able to get hold of an actual CD when you attend any of our shows on the tour.
We had great fun making the videos to the double A-side single, which you can watch here www.youtube.com/TheLullabysBand. We've had a huge amount of interest in these and are being featured on the front page of http://www.wohomusic.net/

So, what are those songs actually about? (Have a listen by pressing the play button on the music-player on the left.)
'I'm Not In Love With You Anymore' is about letting go and moving on. There is no malice, simply acknowledgement that it's over. We all reach that point eventually; the point when we know we are over that person. They just don't affect us anymore; you don't even think about them. Instead of sadness we both realise that we have freed each other to find someone more suitable. Though it took me a while!

'Broken Again' is about the acceptance of loss. It's hard to accept any type of loss when we get wrapped up in the emotion of it all. But we have to realise that it's just part of life. People come and go. Some last just one night, other's a life-time. Acceptance comes through knowing that loss is inevitable and that we are hardwired to connect with others. Despite the sadness and suffering of loss, the human brain is programmed to connect with others. You will meet someone else and have another exciting adventure. So, it's about all the things in the title of the EP; love, loss and hope.

It would be great to see you on the tour and catch up. Come and have a chat before or after the show. And remember the biggie - the end of tour show - on June 26th.

See you very soon!

Lullaby Gav

Goals instead of Deadlines - why The Lullabys new EP was put back 6 weeks

Hey!
I just want to say a few words about The Lullabys new EP.
I had planned for the release to be April 12th. It became a deadline! Me and Brett started to feel the pressure of having to get everything done on time. Recording to do, mixing, mastering, gigs, video shoots. Too damn much, man!

As it happened we had a few snags in the mastering process. We had a session at Fluid in London (used by Coldplay, Craig David and the like) but were none too impressed by the results. Me and Brett drove back from London listening to their attempts at mastering our songs and had to reduce the bass on the stereo by minus 6!!! What is it with bass these days?

In the end this turned out to be a blessing in disguise. We decided to re-arrange the Constitutional Club show and put it at the end of our 'LOVE, LOSS and HOPE TOUR' instead of at the beginning. That will now take place on June 26th.

And the release date of the new EP is now May 24th. Anyone at gigs will be able to buy a pre-release copy (and everyone at the Con Club gig will get a free complimentary CD). But the general release (on iTunes and amazon) will be on the said date. Samples of the new songs will be uploaded to our website, facebook and myspace very shortly.

It immediately felt better, shifting the date back 6 weeks. The pressure was off (a little bit, at least!), giving us more time to get other things done as well. There is a very fine line between a goal/intention and a deadline. With the former there is a feeling of hope, optimism and excitement; with the latter, a feeling of stress. And it's no good for anyone, even those who say they thrive on it!! Stress catches up with all of us in the end. Sometimes you've just got to take your foot off the pedal and let go; give the mind-body a chance to recuperate, re-charge the batteries. This is all part of an ultradium rhythm that oscillates every 90 minutes, when the body needs to have a break. I will save this for another blog.

So, that's all for now.
See you at a gig during the tour (which kicks off on April 16th). And put May 24th in your diary!!

Lullaby Gav

Why 'The Secret' is Wrong (or, Why You Can't Change Your Life With Your Thoughts)

We’ve been bombarded with books about the law of attraction and manifestation over the last few years. ‘The Secret’, by Rhonda Byrne has sold millions of copies worldwide as people try to create a life of abundance where all their dreams come true.
The premise to all of this ‘wealth consciousness’ is basically ‘change your thoughts and you change your life’. To quote from the book itself, “Your thoughts are the primary cause of everything. Everything else you see and experience in this world is effect, and that includes your feelings. The cause is always your thoughts.” (Page 30)

I had to put the book down after reading this because it is blatantly wrong! Unfortunately, the idea that thoughts are ‘things’ and that thoughts cause our feelings is so inherent that even the government is suggesting that CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) is the answer to all our emotional/psychological problems. How misinformed they are!
There is something much deeper going on, something that happens on an unconscious level before your thinking even takes place. And it makes no difference if all your thinking is 100% positive (which it couldn’t be anyway), if there is an unconscious pattern seemingly ‘sabotaging’ your ambitions.

Let me explain what I mean by patterns. The brain is a pattern-matching machine. We come into the world, not with a blank slate but with instinctive templates already in place (laid down in the womb). This is how a baby knows to look for food, cry when it needs attention, etc. But the template in the brain is only partly complete. It becomes complete when the baby matches up the pattern in the outside world by actually carrying out the behaviour. This is the same for all species. It’s how birds instinctively know how to build a nest. So, the instinctive template is already in place and the brain is always scanning for an opportunity to complete the pattern (that matches up with the template).

As we go through life other patterns are laid down. One experience of trauma can be so intense that the incident continues to cause stress long after the event itself. The brain has somehow matched (seen a similarity) in a current event to the original event, causing an emotional reaction. Importantly, the pattern-match doesn’t have to be an exact likeness. Anything that resembles it in some way will do. (If our ancestors had a run-in with a tiger the brain would assume that all other big cats, such as lions, would also be dangerous).

Thus, the most fundamental pattern is the fight/flight response that is triggered when our brains perceive something in the environment that is potentially life-threatening. At that point you automatically run or fight for your life. You don’t stand around thinking about it. And this is the key point. The pattern (and the ensuing emotion, be it anger or anxiety) comes before thought. It happens unconsciously. This is why CBT takes too long to have any effect; it’s back to front.

The fact of the matter is that you can’t change unconscious processes by just changing your thoughts because those processes are happening before you are even aware of them taking place! This is why you can sometimes feel a certain way but not know why. It’s because your brain has pattern-matched to something. Perhaps you’ve seen someone in the street acting slightly aggressively and soon afterwards you feel anxious because, on an unconscious level, it’s triggered memories of other similar incidents in your past, with all the accompanying emotions. Why do you feel nervous when going for a job interview or on a date? Because an unconscious pattern is in place, based on all the other times you felt you were being judged, questioned, analysed and potentially rejected.

So, when it comes to the law of attraction, if you’ve been told repeatedly that money is hard to come by, that ‘it doesn’t grow on trees’, that you have to work hard for it, this too can set up a template or expectation in your mind. A template of 'lack-consciousness' is laid down and your brain keeps trying to complete the pattern by creating scenarios that match the expectation of loss and lack-of. And this is where ‘The Secret’ and every other wealth consciousness book I’ve read, is wrong.

If an unconscious template based on lack, fear, loss etc. is running the show, no amount of positive thinking will change it. Thoughts are not the primary cause of everything. Emotions come before thoughts. And prior to emotions is an unconscious pattern.

So, if you’ve been reading all those wealth creation books and haven’t yet made your millions, more than likely it is because an unconscious template needs updating. Thoughts alone can’t do it. You have to engage the instinctive part of the mind to change unconscious/instinctive patterns, the same part of the brain that creates them. This is where hypnosis comes in.
Hypnosis enables us to connect with that unconscious/instinctive pattern and, with special techniques, can update the program/expectation and remove the old template entirely. Phobias can be removed in a matter of minutes because, through a specialised hypnotic technique, the brain stops pattern-matching to the feared stimulus. The same goes for panic attacks, post traumatic stress, lack of confidence in certain situations (such as tests and public speaking) and so many other ‘problems’ when you realise that the brain is a pattern-matching machine. When those patterns have changed maybe then the law of attraction will start working for you?

For more on pattern-matching and to find out what happens in the brain take a look at my ‘stress’ report at www.stow-hypno.co.uk/page4.htm or visit www.hgi.org.uk/archive/APET-model.htm