Lucy Furniss: My Reflections from Women in Gestalt Conference
An email drops in my box advertising a 3-night Women in Gestalt Conference in Ireland. I know with a certainty deep in my belly that I want to attend. A tingling excitement floods me as I read of how we will pay attention through collaboration to an emergent process. The timing and honouring of the Autumn equinox and moon cycle, and the beautiful sacred landscape in West Ireland speak direct to my soul.
I arrive with the hope for deep connection with nature and sisterhood and an opportunity to speak of the difficulties and prejudice we still experience as women. Alongside this, I am curious how we can be more supportive, as women, of women, in this patriarchal world.
My heart sinks as I see the heavy agenda and timetable up to 10pm every night. I wonder where the space might be for emergence? I am interested in the conspiring of coincidences that means 3 of the facilitators have had to cancel at the last minute. I imagine the impact of a smaller facilitation team and different dynamics.
Over the first 24 hours, I experience a familiar feeling of detachment and equal measures of frustration and boredom. I try to tame my irritation and calm my anxiety of feeling like we’re wasting time. My internal dialogue of impatience and sense of us avoiding what’s important, eventually bursts out. It falls flat in the room and shame rises from those who feel criticised, whilst others pour water to douse the flames. I sink back waiting until another figure sparks me to life.
My time outdoors in the breaks is restorative. I visit with a beautiful beech tree standing tall on a steep bank with exposed roots; proud and humble as it surveys the flowing river. The Falls in Ennistymon rage with the weight of water that cascades from the sky.
On the second day, I continue to hold my separation and numbness until finally I am lurched from my slumber. My anger, usually well buried, erupts as we talk about the state of our planet and climate issues. I feel shaky, heat courses through my body, my throat constricts although my voice needs to be heard. With the focus on me, I rise to my feet and stamp and shout. Anger was unacceptable in my family, a shadow to be disguised, and the shame keeps my head lowered although I am vaguely aware of a couple of people also standing up with me. As I sit down, shaking, with energy coursing through me, I dare to raise my head. Someone interjects and the conversation moves back to something positive and in the light.
I feel abandoned as if I have done something wrong and that me and my emotions are to be avoided. I employ all my resources of self-support, although now as I type this am aware that there was not enough to encourage me to speak out again. A little later in the conversation, one of the facilitators comes back to an acknowledgement of my anger and feeling this herself and wanting me to join her in expression again. I do this, even though, I can no longer touch my dark emotion, which has scuttled back within me.
On the third day, as timetabled, we assemble outside despite the rain. We celebrate the land and our connections as women. One of the members speaks to honour our ancestors and we sing and drum. As a Wild Therapist, I work with the more than human and other than human and know the power of this as the third party in my relationships with clients. I feel the rhythm of the earth, our mother, which has the potential to bond us differently together and to share her wisdom. I wish this had been one of our first tasks and hold my own disappointment that there was not enough time to explore with others what messages nature might have for us as women.
In our last afternoon, we come up with key women’s issues of power, safety, leadership, values, co-creativity and voice. I join the group I am interested in of co-creation. How do we as women weave together, support and encourage each other? We talk for some time and then 2 of us are keen to try and embody our process. As we start moving, others join and we connect, adapt and break apart only to join again.
I am left with the embodiment, spontaneity and playfulness of our approach and much laughter. I reflect on the importance of this for co-creation, along with someone stepping forward to lead. In the leading though I see the benefit of invitation, rather than expectation, of joining. There feels such a tension between structure and space for emergence and how lightly an agenda is held.
On the last night, I dream vividly of sexual abuse by a man. It is something familiar and yet not familiar. I wake hot, feeling snakes crawling in the pit of my stomach and generally unsettled. I am aware little has been spoken of our abuse at the hands of men, even within my smaller Process Home Group. I notice my chest contract and breathe falter as I imagine how a male reader might receive my words of abuse. It feels blunt, bold, shocking and truthful. On relaying my dream to a participant, she then speaks of her own experiences. This felt for me like the first vulnerable and authentic conversation of the conference.
Two things on our final morning are illuminating, as I suddenly recognise the cultural differences that perhaps have been at play during this conference. One American member talks to me of the lack of willingness she has seen for a focus on trauma by others in her work and in our final check in, all the Americans speak very positively, whereas the UK and European members had differing views. I wonder how much being a woman in America affects this possible preference to stay in the light, and as a white British woman, the effect of my culture and beliefs. An interesting question for another time.
I relax as I appreciate the battle of light and dark that has been taking place during the conference. My relief is palpable. My body expands, my shoulders drop and my breath flows more freely. I observe more easily my own process of shame around trying to bring the dark and being denied in this and dragged back into the light. When my shadow is not allowed or accepted, I shrink and interrupt my contact with others; stay alert, in my head, on guard and disconnected, rather than sinking into a flowing relationship. I’m left with the question of how I stay tolerant and allowing of my own shadow parts without needing acceptance from others?
Over the last few months, I have my own experience of creating and advertising a Women’s Therapy Group. Despite my reflections from the conference, I am curious, a little alarmed, and amused that I have fallen into the same traps. In a bid to attract women, I’ve tried to be specific about what they might get from an emergent group with no agenda. I hear you ask, how on earth can you do this and it’s been a lesson in refining a softer approach to the possibilities for the marketing.
I feel the pull of my masculine to be planned and to deliver, to prove what will be and to offer value for money. When I sink more into my feminine, I become aware of the value of the space provided, support and community. This takes away the pressure or expectation for the attendees on doing something. They can come and just be in flow and perhaps experience more of their own feminine power.
I do, however, recognise the worth of my masculine energy. My drive, my organisation and my decisiveness have taken me far. I also know the pull of a patriarchal society where competitiveness, comparison, envy and jealously can damage relationships, even between women.
I know I want to make much more space for my feminine energies. In the past, I have experienced how unwelcome my sensitivity, my emotion and my gentleness have been, both from men and women. Somewhere deep within me, my ancestors whisper of the risks of being a wise-women, with a deep connection to the land and healing powers of nature. Persecution and fear sit so close to the surface, that I feel halted in stepping into my power. The battle of the light and dark at play.
I am reminded of a polarity when I think of masculine and feminine parts of myself. Both are valuable in their extremes and the importance for me is that I can choice fully move along the scale. Then as I write this, I wonder about the integration of both at the same time. What might that look like? Could there be a 3rd,4th or 5th…. way to seek balance of these and fulfilment and harmony.
Now that I’m facilitating the Therapy group, my challenge is to really sit back and allow the emergence of what’s important. How to hold enough structure so as to minimise anxiety and create safety and at the same time, allow freedom, inspiration and space? In the first session, the dark was thrumming, the relief of being in the group allowing it to brim over. In the second session, the light prevailed. Perhaps the dark was too overbearing, unwelcome and too vulnerable making? What will be in the third session?
I was recently introduced to the Carrier Bag theory by Ursula Le Quin. She talks of the importance of the gourd, the shell, the basket rather than the spear. The spear relates to the male domination, attack and food gathering which can only be carried in one hand. The bag or receptable allows gathering, sharing and holding and is more of a focus on the collective. When I imagine the 2 different approaches, I know which one leaves my body feeling more relaxed, calm and open. The challenge is how to hold the bag when the world can pull me and many women to raise their spear.
I am very grateful for the group of women who dreamed up the idea for Women in Gestalt Conference and put huge effort and energy into holding the bag for 35 of us. This has started such a valuable process for me.
I am hoping that my awareness will support me to step more into my feminine powers of connection, communication and collaboration and: being more in the world rather than doing, allowing rather than driving, flowing rather than aggressing and exploring rather than deciding.
If anyone is interested in exploring the balance of masculine and feminine energies further, I would love to hear from you.
Lucy Furniss
I’m a Gestalt Psychotherapist and Wild Therapist based in Bournemouth, UK and am currently exploring how wild therapy, spirituality and Gestalt sit alongside each other.
contact@lucyfurniss.co.uk
