Going on our own Bear Hunt

In the long run, avoidance of unwanted emotions doesn’t work.

In the wise words of children's author Michael Rosen,

"We can't go over it. We can't go under it. We've got to go through it!"

Excerpt from 'We're Going on a Bear Hunt'

The amygdala hijack came without warning: a sudden, undesired takeover by stress hormones. I had been sitting in a trustees' training session, feeling relaxed. The trainer was a thoughtful woman, and knowledgeable about her subject: workplace appraisal. But five minutes in, my body was braced with tension and adrenaline surging. My evolutionary brain was preparing to fight off - or run from - a threat, as though from a wild animal. But there was no grizzly in sight. What was going on?

In my teaching career, I’d had some horrible experiences of appraisal. Attempted bullying by a headteacher when I was newly qualified. Failing a task when jet-lagged; mounting tension during staff cuts. These were some of the most stressful events of my working life - and the memories were flooding back. Memories that I had been all too happy to bury in a forgotten corner.

I tried to self-soothe. I breathed and softened into my gripped stomach. I inwardly spoke to myself in a gentle tone, like a kind adult reassuring an upset child. I understood that there was a positive aspect to these long-submerged memories surfacing. The old wounds could only begin to heal through bringing them into the light of day. Through feeling the pain. It helped that it was eased by the passage of time. Yet these memories still packed a punch. That stress reaction took a few days to work its way through. But the process has left me a little freer. Less weighed down by the past.

Mindfulness and self-compassion don't make unwanted feelings disappear. In fact, these practices highlight areas that need our attention. It is natural to want to sidestep difficult feelings. But in the long run, avoidance doesn’t work. The wise refrain in the children's book, 'We're Going on a Bear Hunt', says it well:

"We can't go over it. We can't go under it. We've got to go through it!"

I have witnessed a similar process in many other people.

For some years, I was part of a team running meditation retreats in nature, away from the hurly-burly of city life. Retreat conditions help us notice our states of mind. People become aware how quickly their mood can change: elated in the morning, dejected by supper. It could be freeing to know that one’s moods, light as well as dark, all pass.

On the team, we also noticed broader patterns over a typical week-long retreat.

Arrival could be stressful for people. The location, often off the beaten track, could be hard to find - and then the business of pitching tents. But once they had settled, most people were happy to relax and enjoy the natural beauty. On day one, tiredness often hit, as people adjusted from their busy lives. But weariness would pass and, feeling refreshed, they became more engaged. This was often a rich and satisfying experience.

But around day three, difficulties would start to arise. Painful memories of long-buried ordeals. Strong emotions: feelings of grief, rage or remorse; tears shed. There was physical tension and pain, making it harder to sit in meditation.

In my early days, I worried that something was going wrong. Surely, people should feel better, not worse, as a result of coming on retreat? But I came to understand that day three syndrome was essential to the healing effects of the retreat. A well-held retreat creates a safe space to reveal difficult aspects of one's life. It's an opportunity to shine the light of awareness into neglected corners of our being. In a supportive environment, we can revisit feelings that once were overwhelming. There is a saying: "What we can feel, we can heal".

The turbulence of day three was usually followed by deeper understanding. A quality of forgiveness for oneself and others. A process of integration was underway. It became possible to include those shut-away emotions of shame or fear and feel a greater sense of wholeness.

By sharing the retreat 'journey' with others, there were broader insights. A recognition that difficulties are a universal part of life. That everyone has painful emotions: we're all in the same existential boat. By the final day of the retreat, it was not unusual to see participants radiant with joy. Our closing circles were moving, uplifting occasions. In the vast majority of cases, the retreat had worked its magic. 

Image is AI generated