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How to cite this thesis

Surname, Initial(s). (2012). Title of the thesis or dissertation (Doctoral Thesis / Master’s Dissertation). Johannesburg: University of Johannesburg. Available from: http://hdl.handle.net/102000/0002 (Accessed: 22 August 2017).

A Spiritual Model for Personal Leadership

By

COLLEEN ANNE LIGHTBODY

A dissertation submitted in fulfilment for the Degree

of

PhD in Personal and Professional Leadership

in the

College Of Business And Economics

UNIVERSITY OF JOHANNESBURG

Supervisor: Prof Willem Schurink Co-supervisor: Dr Mary Anne Harrop-Allin

2019

P a g e | i

DECLARATION

I certify that the minor dissertation/dissertation/thesis submitted by me for the degree

PhD in Personal and Professional Leadership at the University of Johannesburg is

my independent work and has not been submitted by me for a degree at another

university.

Colleen Anne Lightbody _______________________________

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DEDICATION

This thesis is dedicated to the memory of my Brother Martin Edward Lightbody

b. 08 November 1963 d. 20 May 1994

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ACKNOWLEGEMENTS

I would like to acknowledge the human beings that have been a part of this journey.

These are the people that have supported me and enabled me to circumnavigate this

subject of mindfulness that I love so much.

Photograph 1: My bicycle

My brother, to whom I dedicate this thesis. You went so soon, but know that your

legacy of kindness, compassion, humility, and intelligence made the road a little

smoother and safer to ride.

My children

Abigail, the vibrant energy that lights every room you enter and adds depth,

humour and wisdom to my life.

Gabriel, whose rhythm of honesty, perplexity and uniqueness has challenged

me to step out of a comfort zone of conformity.

Both of you, are at the hub of my wheel.

My parents are opposite, balancing spokes on my wheel. Adventurous versus

sensible; extravagant versus conservative; incandescent versus restrained. Dad the

frenetic excitement; and Mom, the smooth flow of my rides.

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Connected to this is my stepfather Ian, whose lifelong respect for me has given

me confidence and care on my journey.

My partner Graham, with whom I experience a rich flow of love and trust and respect.

You have become the rims of my wheels, ensuring the aspects of my life are true.

My study leaders – the coaches of academic scholarship and of mentor, teacher,

guide, and authority have been at every part of this PhD challenge.

Mary Anne Harrop-Allin - harmonious, warm. She symbolises the solidity of

the ground and the light purity of the sky. I hold Mary Anne in the highest

esteem, both as an academic, and as a human being.

Professor Willem Schurink – opalescent challenger of academic value,

excellence, and rigour in my life. I have learnt so much under his guidance

through the years we have been connected. I am inspired by the Prof as a

father, husband, scholar, teacher and qualitative guru. It has been an honour,

and a privilege, to have him as my supervisor on this research journey.

My friends and champions – The paintwork of my bike : Grenville Mills, Sally

Rossiter, Janet Unterslak, Barbara and Andy Tasker, Mike and Avril Hayes, my aunt

Eirwen and cousin Jennifer, Julia Watson, Tracy Newman, Kathleen Dey, Margie

Oshry, Alana Maseko, Lafras Heron, Mary-Joe Emde, Daphna Horowitz, Barbara

Came and Di Banahan. I am grateful that I had people, who believed in me and in my

research approach, to hold me on the road of this doctoral journey; for the tragedies

and lessons I have stumbled through on my life ride, that gave me the courage, and

the resilience to see this journey through, in a way that is authentic and comes from a

deep belief in the remarkable possibility that human beings, not only can survive, but

can do it brilliantly. I am grateful to be surrounded by the people who make me step

up and hold my hand while I do so.

My editorial support team – Alexa Barnby, Ulrike Hill and Gerry Barnby, for being in

the workshop and overseeing the final assembling of the PhD bike . Importantly,

Graeme Colson who provided the artwork for the models and processes described in

this thesis.

P a g e | v

ABSTRACT

“After all, all human beings are the same – made up of flesh, bone, and blood. We all

want happiness and we all try to avoid suffering.” – Dalai Lama

(Dalai Lama & Cutler, 2011, p. 12).

Orientation

In this study I aimed to share and develop mindfulness as a philosophy and a practice

by combining narrative and theory to produce a practical mindfulness model that would

support a spiritual approach to personal leadership.

Relevance and significance of the study

This study was an exploration and operationalisation of mindfulness. As mindfulness

is a complex construct, the research aimed to integrate a broad range of mindfulness

interpretations which was further deepened through an evocative autoethnographic

lens. The spiritual dimension of leadership was, thus, addressed with an innovative

model supporting mindfulness practices and ideas. I first engaged with the concept of

mindfulness in 2010 as I began my journey of transformation and I have studied and

taught extensively in this field. Ever since, I have been entranced by the concept and

this research reflected my growing engagement with mindfulness and personal

development.

Research question

The research questions that framed the study sought to establish how mindfulness

may be explored through an evocative narrative and the integration of definitions to

develop a model for spiritual leadership.

Research approach

This research used a qualitative, postmodernist research approach to develop a

spiritual model. This unconventional qualitative methodology allowed me to blend an

evocative and analytical approach to my life’s journey. I revealed the wisdom and

knowledge I gained coping with traumatic events that transformed me from a ‘worrier’

to a ‘warrior’ of the mind, terms I use that have come to define the work I do. Combining

first-order constructs derived from the narrative, together with abstract constructs of

P a g e | vi

social science analysis (Anderson, 2006a), allowed me to develop a substantive

theory and a mindfulness model for a spiritual approach to personal and professional

leadership.

The frame for sharing my experiences through an evocative narrative was provided

by a postmodern paradigm that contextualised the construct of mindfulness. In the

development of a comprehensive model, elements of modernism supported the

analysis and integration of various theoretical interpretations of mindfulness found in

the literature.

This research reflects my ontological position and my understanding that the truth can

only be reflected through the perception of the writer and the reader. Blending

evocative and analytical autoethnography using story, theory, video, pictures,

photographs and audio recordings, the thesis portrays my sense-making of life-

changing experiences. This approach is acknowledged as subjective and follows a

constructivist style. The approach was reinforced by a literature review that expanded

the theoretical understanding of mindfulness and the development of a substantive

theory. Here I followed induction and deduction in an iterative approach, moving

between narratives, theory and the conceptual framework.

Main findings and key implications

This study applied a spiritual perspective to personal and professional leadership

competence, engaging with mindfulness as strategy. A uniquely personal and

evocative approach linked to the theory, resulted in a practical integration of this

complex, often intangible, construct. Five broad conclusive statements can be drawn

from the research findings. These are the following:

• Vivid recounting of a personal narrative illuminates personal, professional and

spiritual wellbeing.

• A coherent definition of mindfulness fills a gap in leadership, reflecting

meditation, intentionality and consciousness.

• The mindfulness model provides a process for guiding leaders in

implementing purpose, power and presence.

• A spiritual dimension is added to personal and organisational development,

grounded in research.

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• The expansion of knowledge through the articulation of a conceptual

framework.

Contributions

The main contribution was a threefold conceptualisation of mindfulness developed

through engagement with the literature, which in turn led to the development of a

theoretical framework in terms of which mindfulness practices and concepts may be

applied. This could be enhanced through an existential philosophical awareness that

may be provoked in the reader through the use of story.

I further engaged with mindfulness with a practical process to support the systematic

development of a spiritual approach to leadership. This exploration of mindfulness

added to an existing body of knowledge and built research credibility and scientific

reference for a topic that is often seen as a ‘soft’ skill of leadership.

Suggestions for further research

It would be beneficial for autoethnographers to use mindfulness principles in their

writing and research, thus facilitating self-awareness. As a research tool, the

mindfulness model could be further developed, allowing for a deeper engagement with

what could be seen as an intangible concept. Further research could examine how the

threefold conceptualisation of mindfulness may be useful in various contexts in

contributing to more effective leadership.

Keywords: analytical autoethnography, evocative autoethnography, mindfulness,

consciousness, intentionality, meditation, personal leadership, spiritual leadership,

worrier, warrior, theoretical framework

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PREFACE

Mindful Warrior: A Spiritual Model for Personal Development is the outcome of the

integration of the author’s traumatic lived experiences, impelling her to undertake a

quest to live a life of purpose, presence and power. This narrative is interwoven in the

thesis, with concepts elicited from the scholarship of mindfulness and personal

leadership. The self-study was triggered by the author’s wish to make sense of her

experiences and at the same time fulfil a self-conceived purpose of serving as a

catalyst for positive change in others’ lives.

In opting for a postmodern approach, the author employs a blend of evocative and

analytic autoethnographic styles as the research strategy.

On 20 September 2015, the author was invited to give a motivational TEDx talk in

Hyderabad, India. A pinnacle of achievement for speakers, a TEDx talk is a showcase

for presenting powerful, well-formed ideas in under 18 minutes. Her talk is used as the

framework for the narrative that forms the evocative description of both her painful and

joyful life experiences. This story invites the reader to enter her world and to reflect on

their own lives to create understanding and hopefully wisdom (Ellis, Adams, &

Bochner, 2010).

The structure of the study reflects the metaphor of a bicycle wheel, where the author

describes each chapter as spokes of the wheel, comprising contextualisation,

methodology, literature, story, substantive theory and a model.

The opening section introduces the fundamentals, which are typically covered in an

introductory chapter in the traditional doctoral thesis. More specifically, the

background to the study (i) is clarified, that is, the need to study mindfulness (the

research topic) is made clear, (ii) the particular aspect thereof worthy of research is

outlined, (iii) a purpose statement is provided as well as the key guiding research

questions, (iv) the three main spokes of understanding that hold the wheel of the story

– meditation, intentionality and consciousness described as a melody of head, hands

and heart – are introduced, (v) the research approach, research strategy and

methodology applied in the study are described, (vi) the significance of the study in

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contributing to theory, methodology and practice is anticipated, and (vi) the thesis

structure is laid out.

The second chapter shares the research approach, beginning with a discussion on

qualitative research and then detailing the particular genre of autoethnography. Key

approaches to autoethnography are discussed with specific reference to the

integration of evocative and analytic approaches in this thesis. The author also shares

her particular ontology and epistemology and how these are reflected in the application

and process of engaging with this methodology.

Section 2 is divided into four chapters. In introducing the concept of mindfulness as

explored through an extensive literature search, Chapter 1 explores the benefits of

the practice, and then links to leadership and spirituality are identified. The following

three chapters each detail the three approaches that have been identified as the core

elements of mindfulness for the study – meditation, intentionality and consciousness.

Beginning with her story in Chapter 7, the author introduces her early life, where she

had not yet discovered the gift of presence and empowerment. From here, the

narrative is developed as she moves through the catalytic and traumatic life events

that propel her towards a life of mindful purpose. The themes underpinning this

chronological journey are those of ‘choice’, ‘courage’, ‘commitment’ and ‘control’.

Building on the literature and the story, Chapter 8 develops the model for mindfulness

and a process for walking in the way of the mindful warrior. This chapter presents the

emergent theory that has evolved from the threefold conceptualisation of mindfulness.

Lastly, the study moves towards completion in Chapter 9 with concluding reflections.

This provides the story behind the story, which shares the original conceptualisation

of the study and how it progressed. Chapter 10 discusses the key findings and insights

and the theoretical, methodological and practical implications. Finally, an assessment

of the study is reflected upon, with recommendations for future research.

Analysing key concepts found in the literature on leadership, spirituality and

mindfulness provided the author with a knowledge base as well as insight into her life

which has been marked by adversity. This enabled her to articulate and understand

her rise from a ‘worrier’ mentality, to becoming a ‘warrior of the mind’. This has

P a g e | x

provided a foundation for the study to extend scholarly knowledge by developing a

spiritual model and process for personal leadership.

“We do not live an equal life, but one of contrasts and patchwork;

now a little joy, then a sorrow, now a sin, then a generous or brave

action”

(Emerson, 1971, p. 165).

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Table of contents

DEDICATION .......................................................................................................................................... i ACKNOWLEGEMENTS ........................................................................................................................ iii ABSTRACT ............................................................................................................................................ v PREFACE ............................................................................................................................................ viii List of figures ........................................................................................................................................ xv List of photographs .............................................................................................................................. xvi List of tables ........................................................................................................................................ xvi The cast of characters ......................................................................................................................... xvii

SECTION 1: CONTEXTUALISATION ................................................................................................... 1 CHAPTER 1 ........................................................................................................................................... 2 BACKGROUND ..................................................................................................................................... 2

1.1 INTRODUCTION ....................................................................................................................... 2 1.2 MINDFULNESS AND ITS PLACE IN MY LIFE ......................................................................... 2 1.3 THE RESEARCH PROBLEM .................................................................................................... 3 1.4 PURPOSE STATEMENT .......................................................................................................... 5 1.5 RESEARCH QUESTIONS ........................................................................................................ 5 1.6 RATIONALE AND SIGNIFICANCE OF THE STUDY ................................................................ 6 1.7 THE RESEARCHER ................................................................................................................. 7 1.8 ANTICIPATED CONTRIBUTIONS OF THE RESEARCH ......................................................... 9 1.9 DEFINITIONS OF KEY TERMINOLOGY USED IN THIS STUDY ............................................ 9 1.10 EDITORIAL COMMENTS ........................................................................................................ 11 1.11 SUMMARY .............................................................................................................................. 12

CHAPTER 2 ......................................................................................................................................... 13 RESEARCH APPROACH .................................................................................................................. 13

2.1 INTRODUCTION ..................................................................................................................... 13 2.2 QUALITATIVE RESEARCH .................................................................................................... 13

2.2.1 Autoethnography ..................................................................................................................... 15

Definition of autoethnography .......................................................................................................... 17 Key approaches ............................................................................................................................... 18 Integrating evocative and analytic autoethnography ........................................................................ 19

2.3 RESEARCH PHILOSOPHY .................................................................................................... 20 2.3.1 Ontology .................................................................................................................................. 20 2.3.2 Epistemology ........................................................................................................................... 21

2.4 TWO KEY ISSUES .................................................................................................................. 22

2.4.1 Approach to theory .................................................................................................................. 22 2.4.2 Research ethics ....................................................................................................................... 25

2.5 APPLYING AUTOETHNOGRAPHY AS A RESEARCH STRATEGY ..................................... 26 2.6 MY AUTOETHNOGRAPHIC PROCESS ................................................................................. 27 2.7 SUMMARY .............................................................................................................................. 29

SECTION 2: MINDFULNESS LITERATURE ...................................................................................... 30

CHAPTER 3 ......................................................................................................................................... 31 AN INTRODUCTION TO MINDFULNESS ......................................................................................... 31 3.1 INTRODUCTION ..................................................................................................................... 31 3.2 THE IMPORTANCE OF MINDFULNESS IN PERSONAL LEADERSHIP ............................... 31 3.3 UNDERSTANDING MINDFULNESS ...................................................................................... 32 3.4 THE EVOLUTION OF MINDFULNESS ................................................................................... 34 3.5 INTRODUCING MEDITATION, INTENTIONALITY, AND CONSCIOUSNESS ...................... 35

3.5.1 Meditation ................................................................................................................................ 36 3.5.2 Intentionality ............................................................................................................................ 37 3.5.3 Consciousness ........................................................................................................................ 38

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3.6 MINDFULNESS, SPIRITUALITY, AND LEADERSHIP ........................................................... 39 3.7 SUMMARY .............................................................................................................................. 41

CHAPTER 4 ......................................................................................................................................... 42 MEDITATION – THE SEDUCTIVE TYRANNY OF MINDLESSNESS .............................................. 42

4.1 INTRODUCTION ..................................................................................................................... 42 4.2 WHAT IS MINDFULNESS MEDITATION? .............................................................................. 42 4.3 THE NEUROSCIENCE OF MINDFULNESS ........................................................................... 45 4.4 THE BENEFITS OF MINDFULNESS MEDITATION ............................................................... 49 4.5 APPLYING MINDFULNESS MEDITATION ............................................................................. 52 4.6 SUMMARY .............................................................................................................................. 57

CHAPTER 5 ......................................................................................................................................... 58 INTENTIONALITY – EIGHTY-SIX FOUR HUNDRED ....................................................................... 58

5.1 INTRODUCTION ..................................................................................................................... 58 5.2 86400 ....................................................................................................................................... 58 5.3 DEFINING MINDFULNESS THROUGH INTENTIONALITY ................................................... 61 5.4 THE BENEFITS OF INTENTIONALITY .................................................................................. 62 5.5 SUMMARY .............................................................................................................................. 69

CHAPTER 6 ......................................................................................................................................... 70 CONSCIOUSNESS – THE WARRIOR SPIRIT ................................................................................. 70

6.1 INTRODUCTION ..................................................................................................................... 70 6.2 WHAT IS CONSCIOUSNESS? ............................................................................................... 70 6.3 INTRODUCING ECKHART TOLLE ......................................................................................... 71 6.4 THE CONDITIONED MIND ..................................................................................................... 72 6.5 TRANSCENDING THE EGO ................................................................................................... 73 6.6 BEYOND EGO: THE NOTION OF ‘I’ AND CONSCIOUSNESS ............................................. 74 6.7 SUMMARY .............................................................................................................................. 76

SECTION 3: THE NARRATIVE ........................................................................................................... 77

CHAPTER 7 ......................................................................................................................................... 78 FROM WORRIER TO WARRIOR ...................................................................................................... 78 7.1 INTRODUCTION ..................................................................................................................... 78 7.2 LIVING AS A WORRIER ......................................................................................................... 79

7.2.1 The beginning .......................................................................................................................... 79

7.3 NEGOTIATING INSTABILITY AND INTIMACY ...................................................................... 93

7.3.1 My brother is back ................................................................................................................... 93 7.3.2 My brother is BAD ................................................................................................................... 94 7.3.3 My mindless meander into my twenties ................................................................................... 98

7.4 MY BROTHER LEAVES ........................................................................................................ 103 7.5 WE ALWAYS HAVE A CHOICE ............................................................................................ 112

7.5.1 Adopting Abi .......................................................................................................................... 112 7.5.2 Gabriel is born on the edge of a new millennium .................................................................. 117 7.5.3 Flutterby ................................................................................................................................. 121 7.5.4 Family of four ......................................................................................................................... 125 7.5.5 Stepping into warrior .............................................................................................................. 126

7.6 FINDING COURAGE ............................................................................................................. 129

7.6.1 Surrounded by death ............................................................................................................. 129 7.6.2 Discovering the inner scholar ................................................................................................ 131 7.6.3 Global trainer ......................................................................................................................... 134 7.6.4 My marriage implodes ........................................................................................................... 135 7.6.5 Death, betrayal, loneliness and a sprinkling of adventure. .................................................... 138

7.7 TAKING CONTROL ............................................................................................................... 140

7.7.1 Mindfully facing forward ......................................................................................................... 140

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7.7.2 Hyderabad, TEDx and the red dot ......................................................................................... 149

7.8 EPILOGUE – COMMITMENT ............................................................................................... 157

7.8.1 Be careful of what you say … ................................................................................................ 157 7.8.2 Headlong into love ................................................................................................................. 158 7.8.3 My reflection as I complete my narrative ............................................................................... 160

SECTION 4: MOVING FROM WORRIER TO WARRIOR TO SUBSTANTIVE THEORY ................. 161 CHAPTER 8 ....................................................................................................................................... 162

A PRACTICAL PROCESS FOR APPLYING A SPIRITUAL MODEL FOR PERSONAL LEADERSHIP .................................................................................................................................. 162

8.1 INTRODUCTION ................................................................................................................... 162 8.2 CLARIFYING NOTES ............................................................................................................ 166 8.3 SOME PERSONAL EXPERIENCES AS BACKGROUND .................................................... 167 8.4 THE WAY OF THE MINDFUL WARRIOR ............................................................................. 171

8.4.1 CHOICE ................................................................................................................................. 171

(i) Mindful of the curve .................................................................................................................... 171 (ii) Living your Truth ........................................................................................................................ 176 (iii) Uncovering the dead zone ........................................................................................................ 183

8.4.2 COURAGE ............................................................................................................................ 186 (i) Meditation as foundation ............................................................................................................ 187 (ii) Sentiments of emotion ............................................................................................................... 192 (iii) Mindful of thinking ..................................................................................................................... 201

8.4.3 CONTROL ............................................................................................................................. 204

(i) Conditioning: shadows and light ................................................................................................ 204 (ii) Get out of the feather bed ......................................................................................................... 216 (iii) Actualising and transcending through intention ........................................................................ 221

8.4.4 COMMITMENT ...................................................................................................................... 230

(i) Conscious being ......................................................................................................................... 230

8.5 PRESENTING THE MODEL ................................................................................................. 235 8.6 SUMMARY ............................................................................................................................ 236

SECTION 5 – WRAPPING UP ........................................................................................................... 238

CHAPTER 9 ....................................................................................................................................... 239 THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY ................................................................................................ 239

9.1 INTRODUCTION ................................................................................................................... 239 9.2 SHARING THE RESEARCH STORY .................................................................................... 239 9.3 WHO AM I TO BE WRITING THIS THESIS? ........................................................................ 240 9.4 THE DOCTORAL JOURNEY ................................................................................................ 242

The beginning: deciding to undertake doctoral research ............................................................... 243 The Postgraduate Study School ..................................................................................................... 245 Introducing my study leaders ......................................................................................................... 247 The proposal .................................................................................................................................. 249 Minding time and time lines ............................................................................................................ 250 Mindfully selecting lived experiences ............................................................................................. 255 Reviewing the literature .................................................................................................................. 262 The challenge of writing mindfully .................................................................................................. 263 Managing work and family challenges ........................................................................................... 266 Learnings from doing a doctoral study ........................................................................................... 268 Examination: Anticipations and anxieties ....................................................................................... 269

9.5 LOOKING INTO THE FUTURE ............................................................................................. 271

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CHAPTER 10 ..................................................................................................................................... 273 PRÉCIS, IMPLICATIONS AND RECOMMENDATIONS ................................................................. 273

10.1 INTRODUCTION ................................................................................................................... 273 10.2 PRÉCIS ................................................................................................................................. 273 10.3 CONCLUSIONS .................................................................................................................... 274 10.4 KEY CONTRIBUTIONS OF THE STUDY ............................................................................. 276

A theoretical lens ............................................................................................................................ 276 A practical lens ............................................................................................................................... 277

10.5 ASSESSING THE STUDY .................................................................................................... 281

10.5.1 Positivist quantitative criteria ................................................................................................. 282

Objectivity ....................................................................................................................................... 282 Reliability ........................................................................................................................................ 283 Generalisability ............................................................................................................................... 283

10.5.2 Other criteria .......................................................................................................................... 284 10.5.3 Autoethnographical concerns ................................................................................................ 285

10.6 MOST SIGNIFICANT SHORTCOMINGS .............................................................................. 287 10.7 RECOMMENDATIONS FOR FUTURE RESEARCH ............................................................ 288 10.8 FINAL REFLECTIONS .......................................................................................................... 290

REFERENCE LIST ............................................................................................................................. 292

ANNEXURES ..................................................................................................................................... 325 Appendix A: A practical process for applying a spiritual model for personal leadership .................... 325 Appendix B: Language editing certificate ........................................................................................... 350

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List of figures

Figure 1.1: Head, Hands, Heart. ............................................................................................................ 9

Figure 3.1: A Conceptual Framework describing mindfulness ............................................................. 36

Figure 4.1: A Conceptual Representation of the Neuroscience behind the Mindfulness Experience .. 46

Figure 5.1: The breakdown of the results achieved by the cyclist from January 2009 to July 2011 reflecting the podium positions achieved .................................................................. 66

Figure 7.1: The logo for the foundation .............................................................................................. 124

Figure 8.1: The Conceptual Framework describing mindfulness ....................................................... 163

Figure 8.2: The flow of the constructs, and the process ..................................................................... 164

Figure 8.3: Component 1: The performance-stress curve .................................................................. 172 Figure 8.4: Component 2: The Truth arrow ........................................................................................ 176

Figure 8.5: Component 3: The Dead Zone ......................................................................................... 184

Figure 8.6: The Narrative Circuit, and the Circuit of Direct Experience .............................................. 187

Figure 8.7: Component 4: Mindfulness Meditation ............................................................................. 190

Figure 8.8: Component 5: The iceberg ............................................................................................... 193

Figure 8.9: Life's emotional journey .................................................................................................... 197

Figure 8.10: Component 6: Choose your focus .................................................................................. 202

Figure 8.11: Component 7: How conditioning affects are feeling ....................................................... 205

Figure 8.12: Algorithm showing possible responses .......................................................................... 209

Figure 8.13: Component 8: Stepping out of the comfort zone into your Truth ................................... 217

Figure 8.14: Component 9: Intentionality ........................................................................................... 221 Figure 8.15: Component 10: Consciousness ..................................................................................... 231

Figure 8.16: The model showing The way of the mindful warrior ....................................................... 235

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List of photographs

Photograph 1: My bicycle ...................................................................................................................... iii

Photograph 2: Me standing in the big red dot ........................................................................................ 1

Photograph 3: Martin, age 5 and me, age 3. ........................................................................................ 80

Photograph 4: My family ....................................................................................................................... 95

Photograph 5: Martin with the silver eagle around his neck ............................................................... 109

Photograph 6: Limberlost ................................................................................................................... 109

Photograph 7: My favourite picture of Abi and myself. We are on the beach, minutes before we meet her biological family for the first time. ................................................................. 117

Photograph 8: Gabriel aged 2 months in the Pavlik Harness ............................................................. 120 Photograph 9: My dad and Abi a month before he died ..................................................................... 130

Photograph 10: A white feather. ......................................................................................................... 131

Photograph 11: And then we were three again .................................................................................. 140

Photograph 12: Abigail and I with our flag at Base Camp .................................................................. 143

Photograph 13: Gabriel – hula hoop champion! ................................................................................. 144

Photograph 14: One morning I run around the helipad that leans out over the sea, with the captain of the ship taking photographs ..................................................................... 145

Photograph 15: One of the training groups in India. ........................................................................... 147

Photograph 16: Advertising TEDx Hyderabad 2015 .......................................................................... 152

Photograph 17: The bike and the door ............................................................................................... 153

Photograph 18: Viiveck and Ekta and Raman .................................................................................... 154 Photograph 19: The speakers for the day at TEDx. ........................................................................... 155

Photograph 20: On the big red dot at TEDx Hyderabad .................................................................... 156

Photograph 21: Buddhist lotus flower ................................................................................................. 160

Photograph 22: Abi and I at the top of Kalapathar ............................................................................. 244

Photograph 23: The original presentation of my four-pager at the Sunnyside Hotel .......................... 246

Photograph 24: Professor Schurink and Dr Harrop-Allin at one of our many meetings ..................... 248

Photograph 25: A post from my Facebook page in January 2018 ..................................................... 252

Photograph 26: Scraps and papers as I plan, design and write ......................................................... 253

Photograph 27: Demonstrating the science and art of mindfulness to a group in 2017 ..................... 253

Photograph 28: Screensaver created in Delhi .................................................................................... 254

List of tables

Table 1: Examples of Adaptive Assumptions .................................................................................... 211

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The cast of characters

Main characters:

Jacky Gibson (nee Lightbody, nee Hayes) – born 1939 – my mom

Edward Lightbody – born 1936 – my dad

Martin Lightbody – born 1963 – my brother

Abigail Lightbody – born 1994 – my daughter

Gabriel Lightbody – born 2000 – my son

Ian Gibson – born 1941 – my dad’s best friend and later my stepfather

MJ – Mary-Joe Emde – a work and study colleague, friend and CEO of the

Neuroleadership group

Sally – my shaman friend

My ex-husband – I do not use his name in this thesis

Graham – my partner/boyfriend from 2016

My supervisors – Professor Willem Schurink – qualitative methodologist

at the University of Johannesburg; and Dr Mary Anne Harrop-Allin –

lecturer at the University of Johannesburg

Characters in order of appearance through the thesis:

Mickey – my first coach trainer

Lafras – a cycling friend and wise confidante

The popular girls – a perceived in-group that I aspire to be a part of

My dorm mates – boarding school friends

The scary matron – who likes her whisky

Vera – the school ghost

Sally – my boarding school roommate

My friend from America – a school friend

The red-haired headmistress

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Ian and Oria Douglas Hamilton, Iain Player, and Clive Walker – well-known

wildlife conservationists

Lloyd Wilmot – owner of Lloyds Camp in the Savuti

The Botswana paramilitary – defence force soldiers

Bushmen trackers – local tribesmen who understand the African Bushveld

and are used to track animals

John Perkins – a family friend

The officials at Lanseria airport

Elke – a girl Martin had fallen for during our Austrian escapades

The psychiatrist in Cape Town

Sergeant Du Toit – the arresting officer at Jan Smuts Airport

The kind stranger who picks Martin up on the highway

The ambulance driver

Zinzi Mandela – Nelson Mandela’s daughter who lives across the hall from

me at the University of Cape Town

The Nationalist policemen

Lisa – Martin’s wife

Edith – Martin’s friend who is also bipolar

John Robbie – a well-known radio personality on Radio 702

The clerk at the front desk of The Star newspaper offices

Colin – the manager of the farm

Zoe Cohen – a social worker in private practice specialising in private

adoptions

Janet – a mom who has given up her child for adoption

Abi’s biological mom

Tracy – my friend with five children

Mike – a boyfriend of Abi

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Gabriel’s birth mother

The social worker – in private adoption who managed Gabriel’s adoption

Dr Molteno – Gabriel’s orthopaedic surgeon

Helen – a psychologist friend

Gabe’s playschool teacher

My godson

Professors and geneticists at TMI

Trudi Malan – volunteer at the penguin rescue centre

Gabriel penguin – a rescue penguin named after Gabriel

The church minister

The successful man I meet at the racetrack

The hospice nurse

Margie Oshry – the head of the British International College and the person I

credit with starting my new career as a lecturer

Ron – a friend of the family who is shot during an armed robbery

David Rock – the CEO of the Neuroleadership Group – writer, coach and

leadership guru

The sweet-faced financial advisor

David – my cousin

Jennifer – my beloved cousin, David’s sister

My wise therapist

Christina – a friend I made while working in Singapore

Father Richard – the Catholic supporter of the nuns in Nepal

The nuns – living in Kathmandu where Abi spent time volunteering

The cousin who betrayed me

The tough, salty sailors

The captain of the diamond drilling ship

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Vipen – the head of TEDxHyderabad and one of the curators for my TEDx

talk

Viiveck – a participant in one of my training programmes who subsequently

became a great friend

Ekta – Viiveck’s wife

Vaiibhav – a participant in a programme I run and a friend

Marjorie – a friend from school

Raman – entrepreneur

Ritu Karidhal – director at ISRO and an integral part of the Mars Orbiter

Mission

Joe the musician

Kshitij – innovator

Babu – a rationalist and humanist philosopher

Zeena – from Palestine – an activist

Lenny – photographer

Ansal Adams – famous American photographer

Manasi – singer, songwriter and poet

Armstrong – philanthropist

Anshul – a young Sikh filmmaker

Natalie – my cousin I run with

Mills – my best friend and cycling partner since 2009

Nick and John – two other cycling friends

Jayant (sir) – the spiritual teacher who accompanied us to Rishikesh

A senior executive client

Kate – a school friend

A client

Daphna – a friend I meet at coaching classes

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Professor Magda Hewitt, Professor Marie Poggenpoel, Dr Albert Wort – the panel for the presentation of my thesis proposal

The editors of my thesis

Kath – a school friend

Julia – a school friend

Janet Unterslak – my inspiring English teacher and friend

Holly – a psychologist in the prison system and past student

Frank – the security officer at the prison

The headmaster of the ‘school’ in the prison

The inmates, psychologists and guards

‘Kaa’ – A long-serving life prisoner

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SECTION 1: CONTEXTUALISATION

STEPPING INTO THE RED DOT1

It is Sunday 20 September 2015. My heart is racing as I look out into the dark

auditorium, filled with over 500 people. The locale is the fragrant, sixteenth-century

city of Hyderabad in India. I stand in the middle of a large red dot placed on the stage.2

For the first time, I will share my story with the world. Some of my closest family and

friends have never heard my mini “Hero’s Journey” (Campbell, 1949), a recounting of

the catalytic events that have led to this momentous occasion.

Photograph 2: Me standing in the big red dot

I begin:

“Ten years ago, I discovered I had a brain and my life has been an adventure ever

since. It began when two things happened. Firstly, I learnt about the most wonderful

and inspiring concept of neuroplasticity; and secondly, life threw some unimaginable

challenges at me. I have some science … and I have a story. Today is the first time

that I am standing in front of a global audience sharing my story. This is terrifying.”

1 To watch the TEDx talk, please go to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmdp7tr8UFc 2 The Big Red Dot – Ted talks are known for the large red dot on the stage, within which limits a

speaker has to stay, for the duration of their presentation.

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CHAPTER 1

BACKGROUND

1.1 INTRODUCTION

This opening chapter sketches the background to the study and reveals the way I

discovered mindfulness, made it part of my life and, finally, chose to study it by

combining its various approaches and interpretations. In addition, I share my aims and

goals for embarking on doctoral research, as a single working parent raising two

children (one of whom is a special-needs child), travelling the world, trying to appease

my strong drive to fit in and belong, and striving to make some difference in the world

through psychology and neuroscience. I detail the specific research questions that

arise from the problem statement as well as the purpose of the study. The rationale

and significance of the study is shared, as well as key terminology; finally, the editorial

process is outlined.

1.2 MINDFULNESS AND ITS PLACE IN MY LIFE

The first time I heard about mindfulness was in 2006, the year my transformation

started. A dynamic, quirky trainer, Mickey, mentioned it in my coach training class. At

the time, I was anxiously trying to be a ‘good’ Methodist, so I was far-removed from

the world of Buddhism; however, from the moment that I first heard about the subject,

it has woven threads of awareness, intention, and peacefulness into my academic,

professional, personal and social worlds.

I only took the concept of mindfulness seriously in 2010; however, soon after I was

accepted at Middlesex University for a postgraduate diploma in Neuroleadership.

Having flirted for years with the seemingly esoteric and ephemeral practices of

meditation and spirituality, discovering a hard science that demonstrated a reliable,

testable and logical way to relax was heartening! Prior to this, whenever I tried to

meditate, I felt like the perennial learning-disabled student – obliged to sit in the class

but never quite achieving a pass! I wasn’t born with a calm or contemplative

personality style but have, instead, been heavily endowed with a short attention span,

an overactive amygdala (adrenalin factory) and copious amounts of energy which

require frequent bursts of vigorous physical activity on my bicycle or in my running

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shoes to keep out of trouble! At last, there was a scientifically comprehensible way to

find peace.

Studying mindfulness and the practice of meditation has now become part of my daily

life and is the cocoon into which I retreat whenever my childhood pain threatens to

suffocate me and sabotage my confidence. This pain, which has created limiting,

conditioned beliefs in my psyche has the knack of sabotaging my self-worth.

Mindfulness has enabled me to defend myself against the damaging effects of my

limiting beliefs; to be present with pain, both emotional and physical, and to be present

with joy and success. The practice has supported me in becoming self-disciplined in

my thoughts, and this has influenced my sport, my career, my studies, and my

relationships. Mostly, it has taught me that there is another way of being that brings

peace of mind no matter the external circumstances. While I am still in my infancy in

the art and practice of mindfulness, it has become a guiding light in my life’s journey

and has helped me to fulfil a childhood longing for a spiritual connection with a life

purpose.

1.3 THE RESEARCH PROBLEM

In the 21st century workplace, there is a growing emphasis on the need to develop

spirituality (Marques, Dhiman, & King, 2007). Leadership studies reflect the shift in

interest to valuing traditional spiritual practices in an organisational context.

Interestingly, this focus has evolved, concurrently with an interest in scientifically

based mindfulness interventions that have academic reliability and validity (Gordon,

2009; Hassad, 2008; Ochsner, 2008; Ringleb, Rock, & Ancona, 2015); however, as

Gotsis (2007) points out, spirituality is a complex, multidimensional construct that is

difficult to implement. Understanding and consolidating the approaches, practices, and

definitions of mindfulness will contribute to personal leadership as a field of study.

The leadership literature reflecting the evolution of the nature-nurture debate is vast,

where leadership is being seen as a trait that may be developed as opposed to being

inborn (Cashman, 2008; Covey, 1997; Daft, 2014; Dubrin, 2015; Du Toit, 2004; Kyle,

1998; Ruiz, 2007; Seligman, 1996). Diverse connections exist between leadership

competencies and mindfulness, with various focus areas linking mindfulness and

leadership, including ethics (Thomas, Schermerhorn, & Dienhart, 2004); education

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(Davis, 2014); business success (Gardiner, 2012); change (Anderson & Anderson,

2010); leadership wisdom (Atkins, 2008), stress management and burnout (Goldman

Schuyler, 2010); emotional intelligence (Silverthorne, 2010); authentic leadership

(Baron, 2012; Boyatzis, 2015), and leadership in the digital age (McKee & Massimilian,

2006).

The question often posed is: How do spiritual practices differ from what may merely

be good management practices? Cacioppe (1999) saw spirituality as a less formal and

less structured intervention in an organisation. Rather than traditional methods, this

intervention is based on the discovery and manifestation of values and a connection

to a higher being and purpose. It becomes clear that a leader’s role is to understand,

balance and develop individuals and themselves, leading to greater alignment on

interpersonal, organisational and ecological levels (Cashman, 2008; Zohar & Marshal,

2001). Mindfulness as an approach and a practice is a means of implementing and

enhancing these leadership roles as well as creating alignment. The impact of the

spiritually aligned organisation on the individual is that it provides a source of

motivation, encourages perseverance and provides direction. In addition, it fuels

commitment, belief, authenticity, and a sense of personal alignment. A spiritual

inclination implies passion, commitment, and belief (Loehr & Schwartz, 2003). The

linking of leadership and mindfulness suggests a shift in thinking about how we view

leadership competencies (Dhiman, 2009; Langer, 2014; Tuleja, 2014), with a focus on

self-awareness as a critical leadership skill (Ringleb, 2015). This represents a ‘being’

perspective on leadership as opposed to a ‘doing’ perspective.

The evolving literature on mindfulness, which reflects mindfulness as a leadership

practice, ranges from (1) the spiritual and meditative (Elberth & Sedimeier, 2012;

Grossman, Niemann, Schmidt, & Walach, 2004; Hassad, 2008; Kabat-Zinn, 2003;

McEwen, 2004; Roget’s II, 2010; Teasdale, 1999); (2) the intentional (Cullen, 2011;

Dreyer, 2004; Langer, 2014; Siegel, 2010); and (3) consciousness of living in the

present (Altman, 2010; Chiesa, 2013; Garland, Gaylord, & Fredrickson, 2011; Tang &

Posner, 2008; Tolle, 2005). Despite the extensive evidence base that currently exists,

reflecting the value of these various interpretations of mindfulness practices, the

literature does not yield any noteworthy integration of its varied definitions, specifically

in a spiritual and personal leadership context; accordingly, this lack of integration

P a g e | 5

presents a gap in the existing management and leadership literature that needs to be

addressed (Dhiman, 2009).

1.4 PURPOSE STATEMENT

In this thesis, I use autoethnography as a means of examining my life experiences so

that I may understand the past and figure out how to live life best in the future, with

the theme of mindfulness as my context. I invite the reader into my world so that he/she

may examine how mindfulness-related concepts can advance personal and

professional leadership. I aim to show how an integrated understanding of

mindfulness, and the application of mindfulness principles, will lead to a deeper

comprehension of the complexity of spiritual, emotional, relational, physical,

psychological and professional experiences. This understanding aims to contribute to

the scholarship by presenting a mindfulness model and process that will support

leadership practices. This, in turn, will enable leaders to find presence, peace of mind,

purpose and personal power, thereby affecting transformational leadership

competency. My goal is to marry research credibility and scientific reference on a topic

that has often been dismissed as a ‘soft’ skill of leadership. I aim to show that the topic

of mindfulness will add rigour and depth to the understanding of inner and external

dimensions of leadership in the Department of Business and Economics at the

University of Johannesburg (UJ)3, and in particular in the spiritual dimension of

Personal and Professional Leadership.

1.5 RESEARCH QUESTIONS

Based on the aforementioned purpose, the research questions guiding the study may

be formulated as follows:

• How can vivid recounting of personal narratives connected to mindfulness, be

used as a descriptor for understanding personal, professional and spiritual

wellbeing?

3 On 1 July 2017, the University of Johannesburg (UJ) opened the doors to its College of Business

and Economics, previously known as the Department of Industrial Psychology and People Management (IPPM)

P a g e | 6

• How can the research draw together disparate conceptualisations of

mindfulness into one coherent definition and inspire an innovative and

comprehensive model for spiritual leadership?

• How can an authoritative and innovative model of mindfulness guide leaders

towards / to implement practices that will enable them to lead a life of purpose,

presence, and power?

• How can we bring a spiritual dimension to what has traditionally been the

operationally focused context of organisational enterprise and personal

development?

• How can this understanding add to the existing body of knowledge and provide

a fresh approach to spiritual leadership in the context of the whole person?

1.6 RATIONALE AND SIGNIFICANCE OF THE STUDY

The rationale for this study has its roots in my desire to explore, explain and develop

the construct of mindfulness from a holistic perspective. From this integrated

understanding, I aim to develop a model, and a process by which leaders may engage

with the practice of mindfulness in a practical and meaningful manner.

My use of autoethnography as a vehicle for exploring mindfulness emerged from a

desire to share my transformation mindfully. I use my story as a conduit to share

mindfulness practices, and to expand the understanding of the construct through an

evocative lens.

I believe that this study will not only contribute academically by weaving a

comprehensive understanding of mindfulness and its concepts in the context of

spiritual leadership but will also make a practical contribution by developing a

motivational and transformational leadership model which will enable people to use

motivational stories and theory in their lives. The hope is that this will assist people in

facing challenges and to live an empowered life.

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1.7 THE RESEARCHER

Through my life journey, I have faced substantial traumatic events and life

circumstances: death, divorce, infertility and adoption, obesity and addiction,

psychological illness, mental disability, suicide, betrayal and financial ruin. Emerging

from these catalytic experiences, l began to learn and live the art of mindfulness and,

as a result, I became personally and professionally transformed.

In the last decade, I have immersed myself in the nexus between psychology,

neuroscience and personal development. These fields of study, and my subsequent

professional application of them, reflects my journey through mindfulness and

awareness. Both professionally and academically, I occupied myself with practicing

and teaching psychology, personal and executive coaching, neuroleadership, trauma

and addiction counselling, and presenting workshops on motivation, learning, and

leadership. Through these interventions, I discovered that mindfulness is a powerful

medium for evoking personal, interpersonal and professional wisdom. It is clear to me

that, as a business practice, it is gathering momentum as a meditative and “being

present” (Kleiner, 2015) approach to transformational leadership.

In addition, I developed programmes, presented at conferences, wrote articles and

facilitated for a number of business schools in South Africa, including Stellenbosch

Business School, Duke University, the Gordon Institute of Business Science, Wits

University and the University of Pretoria, as well as across the world for top

multinational and blue-chip companies including Microsoft, Citibank, De Beers, Time

Warner, Cisko, Chevron, Novartis, Google, and Booz (to name but a few).

Increasingly, I found that these academic and corporate institutions were requesting a

high level of engagement with mindfulness as a tool to enhance leadership practices.

Contemplating a doctoral study, I wanted to employ mindfulness as a spiritual

dimension that would support the development of a conceptual framework for personal

leadership. Because drawing from the intersection of person and society through

personal stories makes a unique contribution to social science (Wall, 2008), I decided

to use my narratives to demonstrate how I have travelled from mindlessness to

mindfulness, integrating a philosophical construct with an anecdote, and the way this

contributes to the scholarship of personal leadership.

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I first heard of autoethnography from the supervisors of my master’s research (Bloem

[Lightbody], 2012). At this point, qualitative research was resonating with my reflective

personality style. Having focused (in my studies and professional development) on

absorbing, watching, hearing and experiencing life from a deeply intuitive and

reflective intra and interpersonal perspective, I was attracted to qualitative research

methods.

In my early forties I discovered the ability to write prose through the challenging

assignments I was given as a master’s student in the IPPM4 Leadership programme,

as well as through my postgraduate diploma studies at Middlesex University.

Nevertheless, when Professor Schurink first introduced me to autoethnography I

resisted. Narcissism came to mind. For example, Sparkes (2002) and Coffey (1999)

refer to the labelling of this research as self-indulgent. Also, Holt (2003) cautions that

such research can at best be lack rigour, or at worst be non-scientific and non-

meaningful (Holt, 2003); however, the professor encouraged me to read Carolyn Ellis’s

work and, once introduced to ‘The Diva’, I began to shed my doubts, subsequently,

becoming entranced by and curious about this research approach. I realised that

autoethnography is where the researcher tells his or her story, relates the self to the

cultural context, and merges subjectivity and transparency, science and art. As a

result, I seized the chance to tell my story and relate it to mindfulness and personal

leadership.

The opportunity to share my life story arrived with the invitation to do a TEDx5 talk in

2015, when I received a mail asking if I would speak on my area of expertise, namely

neuroscience. Within a few months, the curators of my talk called me and, having

heard some of my life experiences, said that I should tell my story. For the first time, I

shared my life with the world. My talk was transmitted live to a global audience and

has attracted almost 70 000 views, as well as countless messages and emails. This

reinforced my belief, as a trainer and a public speaker; that authentic, vulnerable and

4 The Department of Industrial Psychology and People Management at the University of

Johannesburg. 5 A TEDx event is a local gathering where live TED-like talks are shared with a community - TED's

format are short, carefully prepared idea-focused talks, delivered in less than 18 minutes.

P a g e | 9

emotional personal stories make a meaningful impact and are a powerful tool for

sharing knowledge.

1.8 ANTICIPATED CONTRIBUTIONS OF THE RESEARCH

The benefits that I anticipated accruing from this research lay primarily in integrating

the existing theoretical background to mindfulness by understanding the construct as

comprising three distinct elements – meditation, intentionality, and consciousness.

This definition aims to support the development of a holistic model and a process that

may be applied in personal and professional leadership to enable people to live their

lives in a more purposeful, present and powerful way. From a narrative perspective, I

hope that the evocative sharing of my experiences will describe the way mindfulness

may be used as a building block for personal, professional and spiritual wellbeing.

1.9 DEFINITIONS OF KEY TERMINOLOGY USED IN THIS STUDY

Figure 1.1: Head, Hands, Heart.

Mindfulness

This research attempts to integrate various definitions of and approaches to

mindfulness. In essence, the term refers to a mental state in which one’s focus or

awareness is on the present moment, uncontaminated by ideas, thoughts,

interpretations, or emotions (Dhiman, 2009; Djikic, 2014; Dunne, 2015; Farb et al.,

2007; Gethin, 2011; Hassad, 2008; Kabat-Zinn, 2012; Langer, 2014; Rock, 2009).

Emerging from this general definition, I have identified three elements central to the

construct. They are meditation, intentionality, and consciousness.

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Meditation

The first approach identified, commonly associated with eastern

spiritual practices, is a meditative approach, and has been

pioneered in modern times by Jon Kabat-Zinn (Hassad, 2008).

Mindfulness meditation may be defined as a process of bringing a

particular quality of attention to one’s moment-by-moment

experiences (Kabat-Zinn, 2003). In the thesis, meditation is

represented by the ‘head’ symbol.

Intentionality

In an interview with Strategy and Business magazine (Kleiner,

2015), Ellen Langer insisted that the problems most organisations

face are a direct result of inattention, and that mindful

environments can provide innovation and effectiveness in

business. She defines mindfulness as a means of drawing novel

distinctions, and focusing on doing so without judgement (Djikic,

2014). The second approach to mindfulness that I identified

follows a so-called ‘western approach’, with a purposeful focus of

thinking, emotion and action; which I term ‘intentionality’. I use the

symbol of a pair of hands to represent this in the thesis.

Consciousness

I identified ‘consciousness’, or heart, as the third approach to

mindfulness as articulated by Eckhart Tolle (2005), where he

speaks about the power of living in the present moment without

an attachment to ego identity. Tolle writes and lectures powerfully,

which people find transformational, yet his teachings lack a

scientific and academic rigour that I believe would enable his

wisdom to be shared in organisations (Elworthy, 2014; Reddy &

Srinivasan, 2015).

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1.10 EDITORIAL COMMENTS

Colour

I use the metaphor of a bicycle wheel to craft and present this thesis. The spokes are

represented by various colours and is divided into four key segments. Blue denotes

section 1, the first two chapters, which include the contextualisation, and the research

approach. The second section, from chapters 3 to 6, explores scholarly concepts

connected with the mindfulness construct. This literature section is depicted in black.

section 3 comprises chapter 7 where I share my story. Green depicts section 4, the

substantive theory where I explore walking in the path of a mindful warrior in chapter

8, as well as Appendix A, the practical implementation of the process; finally, blue is

used again in section 5 where the final two chapters complete the research.

Websites

These provide videos and/or audio support for the thesis and have been added as

footnotes.

Glossary

Words and abbreviations requiring definition have been added as footnotes.

Photographs

The photographs used in the thesis were taken mostly by me, or by a bystander. They

are used for pictorial support for the evocative narrative.

Figures

All symbolic images and the model developed in chapter 8 are labelled as figures.

Tables

All tables are labelled as such.

Finally, clarifying notes have been added in chapter 8, where some key editorial points

are noted that are specific to this chapter and Appendix A that supports the model and

the process.

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1.11 SUMMARY

In this chapter, I contextualised the study by describing the background and how I

came to be associated with the key construct of mindfulness. I introduced the research

problem, which in turn led to the study purpose, and the research questions; further,

the explanation for the rationale and significance of the study led to a discussion on

the personal and academic background to the research question. The expected

contributions have been explicated with some key terminology defined. Now, I shall

move to the research design, and the specific processes used to conduct the study.

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CHAPTER 2

RESEARCH APPROACH

2.1 INTRODUCTION

In this chapter, I explain how I developed a research approach to fulfil the purpose of

the study. I begin with an exploration of the evolution of qualitative inquiry, leading to

the development of autoethnography as one of its genres. The definition of

autoethnography and its approaches guides a discussion on how I integrated various

approaches in this study. Against this background, it is important to share my research

philosophy and to position myself as the writer of this research thesis. Two key issues

are reported – my approach to theory, and research ethics. This leads to an

examination of how I applied autoethnography as a research process, and my

particular autoethnographic approach.

2.2 QUALITATIVE RESEARCH

As my thoughts about my thesis progressed, it became evident to me that I required

a research approach that would allow me to explore the depth and detail of

mindfulness as it relates to lived experiences (Bowen, 2005). Having used a qualitative

approach in my master’s research, I had no doubt that this research approach was the

one that most resonated with my academic leanings and personality style. As an

evolving and ever-changing tradition (Schurink, 2008), it entails both an interpretive

and naturalistic approach (Denzin & Lincoln, 2011). These features would enable me

to use a narrative lens and to relate mindfulness to my lived experiences. In addition,

the empirical and background features of qualitative research in particular could be

used to give meaning to my life’s journey.

Denzin and Lincoln (2011), undoubtedly two of the most renowned qualitative

scholars, offer the following definition of qualitative research:

Qualitative research is an interdisciplinary, transdisciplinary, and sometimes

counter disciplinary field. It crosscuts the humanities, as well as the social and

the physical sciences. Qualitative research is many things at the same time.

It is multi-paradigmatic in focus. Its practitioners are sensitive to the value of

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the multimethod approach. They are committed to the naturalistic perspective

and to the interpretive understanding of human experience (p. 6).

In contrast to the positivist grounding of quantitative research, where reality is viewed

from an objective and external standpoint, qualitative research regards the observer’s

experiences and perspectives as intimately entwined with the subject that is being

researched (Méndez, 2013). As Ehigie and Ehigie (2005) point out, the qualitative

interdisciplinary field requires that the researcher become more personally immersed

in the research process.

An historical exploration of the development of qualitative research reveals its

changeable nature and complex philosophies, ontologies, epistemologies, goals, and

methodologies. As it evolved, the boundaries between the humanities and the social

sciences became indistinct, and the researcher became more involved and less of a

detached observer (Ehigie & Ehigie, 2005). The beginning of the move towards

merging science and art, fact and fiction, and the use of a variety of writing styles

previously thought to be non-academic, hint at the evolution of qualitative research

into post-experimental phases (Sparkes, 2002b).

As qualitative research edged towards the 21st century, narrative and biographical

methods as means of engaging more deeply with research participants emerged

(Ritchie & Lewis, 2013). The fourth moment of qualitative evolution, or “Crisis of

Representation”, (Schwandt, 2007, p. 41) continued its interpretivist stance. As Denzin

and Lincoln (2011) point out, the development of the field was necessitated by the

emergence of postmodernism which reflected the dynamic complexity of social

context. This complexity has been resolved by a search for patterns and meaning

through ethnography, participant observation, interviews, conversational analysis, and

grounded theory development (Gephart, 1999); accordingly, meaning is increasingly

assigned through social dimensions such as language, culture and shared meaning,

thus, revealing the reflective nature of qualitative research.

Additionally, as Denzin and Lincoln (2011) emphasise, qualitative research has

attempted to make sense of the ‘triple crisis’ of legitimation, representation, and praxis

in the postmodern era. Researchers have realised that participants’ lived experiences

cannot always be described without locating them firmly within a context and without

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allowing them to speak for themselves about their experiences and perspectives

(Schwandt, 2007). This ‘identity crisis’ impelled a change in thinking about how

sociocultural theory and practice should be investigated and described. Ellis (2007)

describes the objections that provoked this shift as: (i) seeking universal truths, (ii)

making certain claims about human experience, (iii) prohibiting stories and storytelling,

(iv) bias against emotion and affect, (v) not acknowledging that social identities

influence research, and (vi) using colonialist and invasive ethnographic practices.

Hence, the unfolding of individuals’ lived experiences comes to the fore, including life

histories, autobiographies, and narratives. In particular, the passive observer is

transformed into an active participant in autoethnography as a research genre. The

researcher had to allow subjects their own voice (Strauss & Corbin, 1990) and had to

provide for research to become participatory, activist, and action oriented (Schurink,

2008).

From 2010 onwards, the social sciences and the humanities became a place for

engaging with the discourse on gender, class, race, globalisation and other areas of

interest. Denzin and Lincoln (2011) predict that the conflicting paradigms currently

being experienced, as well as the evidence-based social movement, will necessitate

debate on the following three areas: (i) the concern with ethics in a technologically

global world, (ii) the challenge of finding appropriate criteria to evaluate qualitative

research, and (iii) the ongoing question of representation. This debate is reflected in

the autoethnographic approach which I shall now discuss.

2.2.1 Autoethnography

Schwandt (2007, p. 16) describes autoethnography as “a particular form of writing that

seeks to unite ethnographic (looking outward at a world beyond one’s own) and

autobiographical (gazing inward for a story of one’s self) intentions”. In using

autoethnography, the researcher tells a story – the story of self. I was thrilled with the

possibility of relating the subject of mindfulness to my story. Paying non-judgemental

attention to the present in an open and curious way (Kabat-Zinn, 2012; Langer, 2014,)

and to one’s story, enables one, as narrator, to engage vulnerably but sincerely in

exploring one’s truth.

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Jonah Lehrer, in his seminal work, Proust was a Neuroscientist, described how the

nineteenth century was a time of anxiety, where artists looked within to illustrate

human experience. He declares that scientists are only now discovering the subjective

truths of the human mind. These scientists have moved away from a reductionist,

scientific approach and have embraced transparency. “Like a work of art, we exceed

our materials. Science needs art to frame the mystery” (Lehrer, 2007, p. 10). For me,

the merging of subjectivity and transparency, and science and art, came alive as I

discovered autoethnography as a qualitative research strategy, connecting the self to

a cultural context. Allen-Collinson (2013, p. 281) refers to autoethnography as an

engagement with “self/other, self/culture, self/politics and selves/futures”; this became

a frame for me to decide on what and how to tell my stories.

According to Wall (2006), autoethnography lies in the postmodernist period. Ellis,

Adams, and Bochner (2010) add that autoethnography’s deep understanding of

narratives reflects postmodernism’s complexity. More particularly, feminist and

constructivist postmodern perspectives are revealed through subjectivity and

vulnerability, emerging as meaning is constructed within layers of cultural experiences

and values (Ellis & Bochner, 2000).

The origins of autoethnography may be traced back to the early 1980s with its trend

of becoming insider-observer or subject-researcher (Chaitin, 2004). Ellis (2004) first

used the word ‘autoethnography’ in the late 1980s, drawing from terms such as

sociological and emotional introspection and personal narrative. She supports the

importance of personal narrative that actively engages the reader in the author’s world,

that is, evocatively facilitating meaning and usefulness in both the world of the writer

and the reader. Autoethnography represents “a multi-layered, intertextual case study

that integrates private and social experience and ties autobiographical to sociological

writing” (Ellis, 1995, p. 3). However, long before Ellis appeared on the scene, a

tradition of ethnographic research existed where anthropologists working with so-

called ‘primitive’ people described their lives from a ‘native’ perspective (Duncan,

2004, p. 3). As Denzin (2014) points out, it was only when ethnographers

acknowledged that they themselves were part of their ethnographies that

autoethnography emerged as a research practice.

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Adams, Holman Jones, and Ellis (2010) identify four interrelated historical trends that

opened the door to autoethnography’s emergence as a vehicle for studying unique

human experiences. These are (i) the widening acceptance of qualitative research in

the face of the recognition of scientific knowledge’s limitations, (ii) a concern with

ethical practices in research, (iii) an appreciation for literary and real-life experiences,

and (iv) the importance of social identity and the impact it has on research and the

individual’s life.

Denzin and Lincoln’s (2011) crisis of legitimation, representation, and praxis

questioned the view of an objective, observable reality. Qualitative researchers began

to look to personal life in context as a means of understanding the human social world.

This opened the door for autoethnography as a vehicle for studying unique

experiences. The advocacy of scholars in feminism, anthropology, education,

communication, performance art, family research, psychology, gender, and race

studies in the 1970s, 80s and early 90s nudged this door open (Adams & Manning,

2015; Adams et al., 2015; Bartlett, 2015). These developments gave rise to

autoethnography as a means of “connecting social sciences and humanities; to

making scholarship more human, useful, emotional and evocative” (Adams et al.,

2015, p. 3). In this way, the world is enriched through the presentation of the ‘self’ in

this research method (Ellis, 1999; McIlveen, 2008).

Now, in the 21st century, autoethnography is firmly established in the postmodern

academic realm (Duncan, 2004). Schwandt (2007) points out that this emerged

particularly from Denzin and Lincoln’s fifth moment, where the lived experiences of

research participants needed to elucidate their own unique perspective and context.

Duncan (2004) describes the evolution of this research genre as an exploration of life

worlds, moving from understanding foreign cultures, to the researchers’ society and

themselves. As Adams et al. (2015) point out, in a sense ethnography and

autobiography became symbiotic.

Definition of autoethnography

Schwandt (2007, p. 16) offers the following definition of autoethnography:

“(autoethnography) a particular form of writing that seeks to unite ethnographic

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(looking outward at a world beyond one’s own) and autobiographical (gazing inward

for a story of one’s self) intentions”.

Wall (2008) points out that researchers tend to put different emphasis on these parts

of the word: ‘auto’ (the experiences of the self); ‘ethno’ (the group or context within

which the research takes place), and the ‘graphy’ (the writing of those experiences

within that context). For example, Ellis and Bochner (2006) emphasise personal

narrative, while others focus on explicitly linking concepts from the literature

(Anderson, 2006a, 2006b; Duncan, 2004; Holt, 2003; Sparkes, 2002a).

Key approaches

Autoethnography ranges from personal narratives, to parallel experiences with other

participant(s), to the researcher’s experiences during the research process (Méndez,

2013). The debate between Ellis and Bochner’s (2006) and Denzin’s (2011) evocative

approach and Anderson’s (2006a, 2006b) analytical autoethnography is relevant.

Evocative autoethnography uses storytelling and well-crafted prose (Ellis & Bochner,

2006) to evoke emotions to elicit feelings in the reader (Denzin, 2006). Brian

Stevenson, who is purported to have received the longest standing ovation in the

history of TED conferences, says that he spends 65 per cent of his speaking time

telling stories, with an intuitive understanding that it is through stories that a speaker

engages an audience (Gallo, 2014). Creativity and conversation, with the use of non-

fiction techniques such as titles, opening and closing paragraphs, theoretical and

dramatic narrative, scene-setting, imagery, realistic detail, showing not telling, active

voice, metaphor and even poetry, all add a quality to qualitative research that has

often been sadly missing (Caulley, 2008). Accordingly, this study aims to evoke a

response in the reader through evocative storytelling.

Adams and Manning (2015) refer to analytic autoethnographies as being socially-

scientific oriented. Here, the autoethnographer blends personal narrative with

literature, data, and findings. Anderson (2006), who coined the term ‘analytic

autoethnography’, outlines five key features: (i) complete member researcher status,

(ii) analytic reflexivity, (iii) narrative visibility of the researcher’s self, (iv) dialogue with

informants beyond the self, and (v) commitment to analytical processes to deepen

theoretical understanding of a social phenomenon. In this way, realistic objectives and

practices are added to the autoethnographic method (Charmaz, 2006). This has the

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added value of answering critics of autoethnography who consider the methodology a

threat to the integrity of academic scholarship (Doloriert & Sambrook, 2011).

Other types included in Adams and Manning’s (2015) typology of autoethnography

are: (i) the interpretive-humanistic text emphasising cultural analysis and fieldwork, (ii)

critical autoethnographies, where personal experience is used to explore contentious

practices and experiences, and (iii) creative-artistic work allowing research objectives

and findings to emerge through the process and where dramatic and evocative stories

are used to share lived experiences. As the authors (Adams & Manning, 2015) point

out, these orientations to autoethnography are flexible and often overlap in practice.

Not only may sharing stories be of benefit from a research perspective, but it may also

allow the possibility of transformation for oneself as researcher and for others through

the sharing of a bond of personal experience (Foster, McAllister, & O’Brien, 2005).

Integrating evocative and analytic autoethnography

According to Schurink (see Swart, 2014; Neethling, 2017), IPPM students wishing to

employ autoethnography need to meet the following requirements of the Department:

(i) compile a self-narrative, (ii) make use of the other’s story, that is, narratives of

another cohort or cohorts experiencing the same or similar events, and (iii) compile a

story of the literature, that is, derive insights from the literature.

These requirements suggest following the trend in autoethnographical research to

combine elements of its evocative and analytic approaches (Metta, 2013; Tedlock,

2013). It was clear to me that I needed to braid analytic and evocative

autoethnographies; thus, I found myself following other IPPM students such as

Steinman (2008), Tabudi (2008), Harrop-Allin (2010), Botha (2009), Oliver (2010), Le

Roux, A (2010), Van Loggerenberg (2011), Usher (2011), Abrahams (2012), Swart

(2014), Le Roux, S. J. (2016), Neethling (2017), and Biddulph (2018). In addition to

this I also use, to a degree, Tedlock (2013). These autoethnographies reveal continuity

that reflects writing and research that is personal, academic, evocative, analytical,

descriptive and theoretical (Burnier, 2006).

However, unlike other integrative autoethnographical work, I decided not to include

(as proposed by Anderson (2006a, 2011)), the experiences of others that are similar

to mine, and, instead, opted to use what Saldana (2003, pp. 224–225) describes as

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“a solo narrative ... reveal[ing] a discovery and retell[ing] … epiphany in a character’s

life”. Spry’s (2001) and Ellis et al.’s (2010) research emphasises the value of the

researcher’s relationship with others, while still embracing subjectivity; consequently,

I explicate the social context of my research as far as possible. This I shall discuss

further in the section on ethics, below.

Finally, to engage with the extension of knowledge, that is, by developing a conceptual

framework or substantive grounded theory, I adhered to another feature of Anderson’s

(2006b) analytic approach, namely, to engage in dialogue with others who share their

painful experiences, and to investigate and describe the wisdom and peace of mind

they achieve once they begin to engage with mindfulness as a practice and

philosophy.

Ellis (2004), despite her arguments against analytic autoethnography, uses the

process of thematic analysis to incorporate a more objective approach. She suggests

combining storytelling and analysis where “you might focus on telling your story and

then frame it with an analysis of literature and concentrate on raising questions about

the literature or about accepted theoretical notions, or on generating new ideas” (Ellis,

2004, p. 198). I used this approach by keeping the evocative narrative, the literature,

and the development of a conceptual framework separate. In addition, I explored the

key themes emerging from the narrative, mapping them against the three aspects of

mindfulness to develop a new mindfulness model and process.

2.3 RESEARCH PHILOSOPHY

Potter (1996, p. 35) writes that “[w]hen we enter the world of formal scholarship, it is

essential that we examine the foundations of our thinking”. I next indicate my research

philosophy; specifically, my ontology and epistemology, and how this guided me on

my autoethnographic journey.

2.3.1 Ontology

Mills, Bonner, and Francis (2006) correctly point out that a conscious and rigorous

examination of one’s ontology informs the epistemological and methodological

avenues available to you. To write an autoethnography, I believed I had to consider

three social science beliefs: (i) the existence of a fact-based external reality and that

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the researcher should maintain a detached, objective position (Eriksson & Kovalainen,

2008), (ii) the existence of multiple realities, which should be interpreted according to

the meanings people/research participants attach to their life world, and (iii) no fixed

reality, or truth exists, since this can only be socially constructed, when research

participants are actively involved (Bryman & Bell, 2007). I chose the last-mentioned

position.

2.3.2 Epistemology

In social research, epistemology refers to the nature of knowing and the construction

of knowledge; it asks how the world is known (Lincoln, Lynham, & Guba, 2011). A

number of key positions are distinguished. First, there is the belief that methods used

in the natural sciences should be used to study social reality, and that only events

which can be observed can be used as a claim for truth (positivism) (Smith, 2015).

Second, there is pragmatism or critical realism where constructive knowledge is useful

when taking action (Goldkuhl, 2012). For the purposes of this study, I followed a

constructivist approach and took a subjective perspective where the knower and

known are inseparable. I emphasised a subjective interrelationship between the

researcher, the context, and meaning co-construction; in other words, where

knowledge is only available through social actors (Eriksson & Kovalainen, 2008). I

embrace interpretivism, which is described by Bryman and Bell (2007, p. 17) as

reflecting the fact that social reality “has a meaning for human beings and therefore

human action is meaningful – that is, it has a meaning for them and they act on the

basis of the meanings that they attribute to their acts and to the acts of others”. They

point out that the task of the social scientist is to interpret the actions and the world of

the participants through the participant's perspective.

I decided to follow a postmodernist constructivist paradigm and to use narrative

analysis, involving both the researcher and his/her participants as co-creators of

reality. It was clear to me that the researcher cannot be the authority when it comes to

knowledge generation. In addition, and in line with an autoethnographic approach, I

took the stance that there is no real truth except narrative truth. I also support the

postmodern position that knowledge comes from experience, that multiple realities are

informed by researchers’ subjective beliefs and experiences, and that reality can be

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approached through rigorous data collection and analysis (Eriksson & Kovalainen,

2008).

In addition to research philosophy, it is imperative that one comes to terms with two

critical questions when doing qualitative research.

2.4 TWO KEY ISSUES

The two issues I had to manage are: (i) how to approach theory, or the relationship

between theory and research, and (ii) questions related to research ethics.

2.4.1 Approach to theory

The IPPM’s requirement that the outcome of doctoral research should demonstrate

some expansion of knowledge, and my commitment to explicate the scholarship of

personal and professional leadership, and to meet a key objective of analytic

autoethnography, namely transcending my lived experiences of mindfulness

(Anderson, 2006a), pointed to ‘theory’.

After scrutinising the literature on autoethnography, I noted Ellis’s (2004) views on

combining the telling of a narrative and analysing it traditionally by reviewing the

literature and, particularly, existing theoretical concepts, and perhaps by generating

new ideas. Referring to her Final Negotiations (1995), where she “surrounded the story

with a discussion of writing narrative and its role in sociology” but where “the focus

definitely was on the story (she) told”. Ellis (2004, p. 198) states: “This is a sandwich

– a story with academic literature and theory on both sides.” I decided to employ her

‘sandwich’ idea in my research”.

But how to convert narratives to theory?

As Bryman and Bell (2007) mention, various issues are involved when it comes to the

link between theory and research. For these scholars, two issues stand out: “First,

there is the question of what form of theory one is talking about. Secondly, there is the

matter of whether data are collected to test or build theories” (p. 7).

Regarding the first issue, it is important, as Bryman and Bell (2007) point out, to

distinguish between ‘grand theories’, operating at an abstract and general level, like

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symbolic interactionism, critical theory, structural-functionalism, and the like, and

“theories of the middle range” (Merton, 1967). Middle-range theories, according to

Merton (1967, p. 39), are “intermediate to general theories of social systems which are

too remote from particular classes of social behaviour, organization and change to

account for what is observed and too detailed orderly descriptions of particulars that

are not generalized at all”. These ‘micro theories’ offer explanations of behaviour in

particular settings or contexts. Finally, it is important to note, that my objective was not

to test theory but rather to develop a conceptual framework, or substantive theory, as

explored in grounded theory.

With regard to introducing an understanding about the world in research, that is, linking

the narratives with theory in the study, I followed the general qualitative approach of

employing induction and deduction. Eriksson and Kovalainen (2008, pp. 22–23) write

as follows about these models:

On the basis of what is known about a phenomenon theoretically, the

researcher is able to deduce one or more hypotheses. The hypotheses are

then subjected to empirical study. The process of deduction is linear, following

the logic of proceeding from theory to empirical research. The certainty in

theory development is gained through hypothesis testing in empirical scrutiny.

When you take the relationship between theory and empirical research as inductive,

logically this implies proceeding from empirical research to theoretical results. The

research process may be seen as being developed from empirical materials, not from

theoretical propositions.

My approach can best be described as iterative, because I moved back and forth

between the narratives and the theory towards the development of a conceptual

framework (Bryman & Bell, 2011). This combination of deduction and induction, or

abduction, “refers to the process of moving from everyday descriptions and meanings

given by people, to categories and concepts that create the basis of an understanding

or an explanation to the phenomenon described" (Eriksson & Kovalainen, 2008, p.

23). As I pointed out, I subsequently employed Anderson’s (2006a, 2011) analytic

approach in my autoethnographic research strategy. In applying this, I first inductively

derived first-order concepts contained in the narratives; secondly, I used deduction to

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link these concrete concepts to scholars’ abstract concepts which I extracted from the

literature, and, finally, I used Mouton and Marais’s (1996) typology of analytical tools

(concepts, theories, models, typologies, definitions) and grounded theory principles to

develop a conceptual framework for personal leadership.

I incorporated elements of grounded theory. More particularly, I used a constructivist

approach which honoured the assumptions articulated by Charmaz (2006) where

people create and maintain realities by seeking meaning in their world, and their

experiences:

• Grounded theory researchers can only claim to interpret a reality dependent

on their own experience – not an external, objective reality.

• Grounded theory addresses human realities rather than universal certainties.

• Grounded theory is subjective and emerges from what the researcher does

and thinks.

• Grounded theory tells a story crafted by the researcher.

• Grounded theory does not claim universal truth but comprises concepts and

hypotheses that are transferrable to other fields of research.

Mills et al. (2006) comment that there is a myriad of variations of grounded theory that

exist in an epistemological and metaphysical spiral. As an inductive research method,

the goal is to build rather than test theory (Pace, 2012). I used elements of grounded

theory analytic strategies sparingly and flexibly to create new insights and usefulness

from the human experience. Also, I resisted the rigid strategies prescribed by Glaser

and Strauss (1967), and rather adapted some of the emergent constructivist elements

that add “another tool to my tool chest, not throw out the tools I already had” (Ellis,

2004, p. 312). The goal was to avoid an authoritative voice that would distract from

the story (Ellis & Bochner, 2000), preferring to develop subjective meanings that

express a multiple reality, address human realities, tell a story about people and are

not presented as free from bias (Pace, 2012).

It is important to mention the literature review as a method of data collection, analysis,

and synthesis (Mouton, 2001). Various interpretations currently exist of the

mindfulness construct and its application in a leadership context. The relevant

literature was extensively reviewed, and relationships, gaps and inconsistencies

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highlighted (Eriksson & Kovalainen, 2008). The ultimate aim of the research was to

craft new knowledge through integration of the existing literature on the topic (Spiggle,

1994). This more comprehensive perspective on mindfulness embraces the need to

develop oneself in a whole sense, including body, mind, heart, and spirit. Mindfulness

in personal development may be seen as operating on two dimensions. Firstly, at an

individual level, an attempt to live more fully and with meaning, purpose and quality;

and, secondly, from a community perspective – the way the environment structures

itself to support the growth of personal engagement, support and meaning (Verrier,

2009). Through a detailed examination of mindfulness (through research and scientific

reference as well as narrative), I aim to encourage collaboration and integration, as

well as scientific rigour, regarding an understanding of the personal and professional

dimensions of leadership. By illuminating mindfulness as an added spiritual

dimension, the existing gap in personal leadership, reflecting meditation, intentionality

and consciousness, will be addressed holistically.

Although this is not always a prerequisite for an autoethnographic project, and

qualitative research has widely differing ideas on the subject, I have been deeply

immersed in the study and practice of mindfulness for over a decade. It would be

difficult if not impossible to unravel my thinking from the layers of knowledge that I

have gathered through my academic and professional experiences and research. The

literature supported me in focusing my research and providing credibility through

developing an understanding of the construct in its many definitions (Massey, 1996).

I was not trying to redefine the construct, but rather to create a detailed and useful

understanding of mindfulness and how it may be usefully constructed and applied. I

did; however, subscribe to the postmodern perspective that it is impossible for the

researcher to be neutral and, hence, ‘borrowed’ from the modernist ideal of doing a

literature review and developing a theoretical model.

2.4.2 Research ethics

As student of UJ, I had to adhere to the organisational and professional ethical

guidelines, which are aligned to the core dimension of ‘ethics’ in the Departmental

Meta Research Model (Sheik, 2013). I studied IPPM’s procedural ethics protocol

carefully and in particular took note of: (i) sensitivity to and respecting the right to

privacy of participants; (ii) protection of them from harmful practices; (iii) achieving

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objectivity and maintaining integrity of methods applied; (iv) recording and disclosing

research findings fully; (v) following ethical publishing practices; and (vi) being

accountable to society. I paid special attention to the protection of the rights of human

subjects, particularly with regard to informed consent. As I was including stories that

implicated individuals in my life, following the final draft of the narrative, I shared this

with them. Here, I (i) explained the aims and nature of the study; (ii) emphasised that

taking part in the research was voluntary and that they could withdraw their story and

(iii) assured them that their names and stories would not be used without their

expression and that any information revealing their identities would be camouflaged

in the thesis, if they so wished. In addition, I requested feedback from them regarding

the accuracy of my reflection and made adjustments in collaboration with them where

deemed appropriate.

These aspects were addressed as relating to the stories revealed in the narrative. This

is more richly explained in chapter 9, where I describe how the stories crafted in the

development of the model, where composite stories that were used to create an

evocative lens through which to understand the model, changing demographic and

other identifying features (Tullis, 2013).

Having outlined the study’s research approach, its underpinning research philosophy

and how I managed issues of theory and research ethics, I now turn to how I engaged

with autoethnography as research strategy.

2.5 APPLYING AUTOETHNOGRAPHY AS A RESEARCH STRATEGY

After selecting mindfulness as a research topic for my study, I realised that I could use

my lived experiences to describe the concept evocatively and, thus, decided to employ

the qualitative strategy of autoethnography. Although autoethnography remains

largely marginalised in mainstream social science research, it is becoming more

accepted in postmodern research circles (Anderson, 2006a). As a research strategy,

it may be criticised as being non-scientific, haphazard and conjectural; moreover, it is

commonly seen as too emotive, literary and aesthetic – not honouring traditional

research criteria and standards (Fraser, 2013; Holt, 2003; Méndez, 2013). Ellis

(2009b) welcomes this criticism as it results in the commitment to improving and

maturing autoethnography and a readiness to expand the possibilities for research.

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As such, the research strategy chosen aimed to provide theoretical as well as practical

value for mindfulness as a process, a tool, and philosophy. As already mentioned, I

decided to integrate the analytic and evocative (Chang, 2008; Ellis & Bochner, 2006;

Denzin, 2006) with the aim of providing a rich weave of vulnerable narrative that would

contribute to an understanding of existing research and theory about mindfulness. This

would make the construct more accessible to multiple audiences (Adams et al., 2015).

Involving analytic and theoretical criteria as well as evocative narrative, may be seen

as risking an uncommitted and weak approach. To counter this, I subscribe to Chang’s

(2008) position that a modified research design enables flexibility and insightful

understanding of lived experiences that are uncontaminated by a rigid methodology

(2008). Short, Turner, and Grant (2013) recognise that autoethnography involves risks

and the writer is exposed but they challenge the assumption that research has to be

impartial, rational and linear.

While Chang (2008, p. 46) speaks of “arguing for ‘evocative’ and emotionally

engaging, more subjective autoethnography”, Anderson (2006a) proposes an

analytical, empirical application. Schurink (2011) refers to a “marriage” (p. 11) of the

evocative, and the analytical that challenges the duality of objectivity and subjectivity.

Consequently, my strategy was to interweave literature and story. Most importantly,

the narrative and theoretical information in this thesis, presents a story that

communicates ideas on how mindfulness may be understood and applied most

powerfully in a personal, professional and spiritual context.

Autoethnography, as explained by Chang (2008, p. 46), “combines cultural analysis

interpretation with narrative details” and “follows an anthropological and social

scientific enquiry approach rather than descriptive or performative storytelling”. The

research strategy I implemented aimed to provide theoretical as well as practical value

for mindfulness as a process, a tool, and philosophy. Also, I hoped to provide a rich

weave of narrative that will enhance the methodological rigour of the thesis.

2.6 MY AUTOETHNOGRAPHIC PROCESS

A key premise behind the use of autoethnography is that, as researchers, we are not

separate from that which we study, and need to be fully steeped in the research

process (Ellis, 2004; Ellis & Bochner, 2000). The research participant, storyteller, or

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author connects “the autobiographical and personal to the cultural, social and political”

(Ellis, 2004, p. 46). As I reflected on my life, it became clear that it has been one of

intense personal development, largely shaped by traumatic experiences. However, as

Ellis (2004) points out, one should not attempt to write an autoethnography using your

entire life but rather compile it from significant experiences. I, therefore, carefully

selected experiences that I felt best reflected how I engaged with mindfulness and its

three components. Many of these experiences were traumatic and life-changing, the

sadness and pain of which made me question my life choices; hence,

autoethnography seemed to be a vehicle whereby I could embrace tragedy as a

means of making sense of my life. In addition, it could invite my reader to use these

experiences for their own sense-making (Adams et al., 2015).

Reflecting on oneself and one’s cultural context and engaging with a research process

require a systematic approach to data collection and analysis. Ellis (2007, p. 14) writes

in this regard: “Doing autoethnography involves a back-and-forth movement between

experiencing and examining a vulnerable self and observing and revealing the broader

context of that experience” (p. 14). Before I had the idea of doing an autoethnography,

I had already written over 300 pages of stories describing lived experiences, which I

ordered chronologically (Chang, 2008). On reflection, I omitted some stories which I

felt weren’t that important and reworked those related to mindfulness into evocative

narratives. I also made use of archives of personal material, reflections of friends and

loved ones, scrapbooks, photographs and newspaper articles, as well as videos I had

stored. Finally, I used my experiences of speaking to significant others in my life, as

well as inputs acquired during conferences, spiritual retreats, talks and academic

gatherings (Anderson & Glass-Coffin, 2013). In short, I immersed myself physically,

emotionally, practically and academically in the study.

The decision to engage with different data sources was to provide scholarly work

created from multiple sources of evidence. As Ngunjiri, Hernandez, and Chang (2010)

emphasise, autoethnography, while reflecting the self, is not conducted in a vacuum.

As with qualitative research, the requirement for multiple data sources necessitates

organising and analysing the collected data (Williamson & Long, 2005). Schurink

(2008a) points out that data description and analysis, especially of narrative material,

involves multiple readings and re-readings.

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Autoethnographies frequently engage with other forms of representation such as the

use of colour, poetry, art, technology, and artefacts. These forms may be sourced

through discovering thoughts, emotions, feelings, beliefs, self-awareness, other-

awareness, passions and fears. This may be done through journaling, interviewing,

examining archival notes, writing, reflecting, using metaphors, dramatic recall, and

creative prose (Ellis, 2004; Maréchal, 2010; Smith, 2005).

In autoethnography, the story, first and foremost, needs to be told evocatively and

must be believable if it was to move the reader. To meet this objective, I decided to,

explore patterns that would emerge through “close observation, careful documentation

and thoughtful analysis” (Ruskin, n.d.). In this way, I hoped to explore mindfulness, as

well as create a process that could, in a logical and useful way, outline aspects of

mindful practice. Differently phrased, my objective was to describe mindfulness and

its practice such that it was clear and “apprehendable in the form of multiple, intangible

mental constructions, socially and experientially based” (Guba & Lincoln, 1994, p.

110). Finally, I hoped to enhance a subjectivist, constructivist position through my

narratives, reflecting the fact that understanding and knowing the world is only possible

by examining experiences and reflecting on those experiences (Eriksson &

Kovalainen, 2008).

2.7 SUMMARY

This chapter detailed the research approach selected for this study, focusing

particularly on autoethnography and how I integrated two key approaches – analytic

and evocative. The discussion on my philosophical stance, the approach to theory,

the research ethics complied with, and the process of how the thesis evolved

completes this chapter. From here the study will move on to the use of Ellis’s

“sandwich” (2004), which I translate into my metaphor of a wheel, as I begin to share

an in-depth exploration of the academic literature and research supporting the

mindfulness construct. This is followed by my story. The focus on story and literature

allows me to develop a conceptual model and process that enables one to become a

warrior of the mind, thereby meeting my commitment to generate an original spiritual

model for personal leadership.

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SECTION 2: MINDFULNESS LITERATURE

In section 2, I introduce the literature that connects mindfulness, leadership, and

spirituality in Chapter 3 and then continue to weave together the three key approaches

that are used to create a comprehensive definition of mindfulness – meditation

(Chapter 4), intentionality (Chapter 5), and consciousness (Chapter 6).

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CHAPTER 3

AN INTRODUCTION TO MINDFULNESS

3.1 INTRODUCTION

This chapter aims to introduce the construct of mindfulness and provide a holistic

definition of the concept, as well as to explore the historical background and to support

an understanding of the construct as a spiritual approach to personal leadership. Also,

I briefly introduce the three approaches namely, meditation, intentionality and

consciousness, and examine the benefits from a spiritual and leadership perspective.

3.2 THE IMPORTANCE OF MINDFULNESS IN PERSONAL LEADERSHIP

The pace of life, the rate of knowledge acquisition and the broad range of opportunities

for cerebral, social, hedonistic, technological, materialistic and pharmaceutical

engagement in the 21st century have resulted in the failure to cultivate a conscious,

present-centred and intentional approach to life for many people. This has resulted in

disharmony, heart disease, cancer, depression, anxiety, conflict and chronic

discontent, as well as other cognitive, social, psychological and interpersonal ailments

(Cacioppe, 1999; Cashman, 2008; Goldstein, 2006; Hassad, 2008; Siegel, 2007a;

Verrier, 2009). Hassad (2008) says that research indicates a 45 per cent increase in

stress levels over the last 30 years. He states, “if trends continue, mental health

issues, particularly anxiety and depression, are predicted to be the single major burden

of disease within the next two decades” (p. 1).

To counter this depressing prediction, Tolle (2005) refers to an enlightened

consciousness, which has been a central tenet of spiritual wisdom and is spreading in

practices of personal development across the globe. He (Tolle, 2005, p. 10)

emphasises one’s true nature, which is one’s “innermost invisible and indestructible

essence”. Although every human carries a “blueprint for dysfunction” (p. 13), this can

be transcended through a “transformed state of human consciousness” (p. 23), that

is, by becoming mindful.

The literature does not yield a comprehensive integration of the varied definitions of

mindfulness, specifically in a personal and professional leadership context. Further, to

bring together the varied conceptualisations of mindfulness through a sound

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theoretical and practical intervention, would allow an already powerful practice to be

even more useful and meaningful (Dhiman, 2012). Mindfulness, as a concept, relies

on personal experience and interpretation. To demonstrate my commitment to

furthering the scholarship of mindfulness in a personal and professional leadership

context, I hope to show that a holistic understanding of mindfulness will be a means

for describing a spiritual approach to personal leadership; furthermore, as required by

the IPPM at the University of Johannesburg, an integrated understanding will support

the expansion of knowledge through the development of a comprehensive, spiritual,

mindfulness-based model that will provide tools, interventions, and approaches to

support an individual’s leadership competence. To begin, a deeper understanding of

the construct will provide the foundation for integrating the definitions.

3.3 UNDERSTANDING MINDFULNESS

Mindfulness may be seen as far more than a meditative, psychological or spiritual

practice or activity. It is a difficult concept to reduce, quantify, abstract and measure

(Salmon, 2010). As defined in chapter 1, at its core, mindfulness refers to a mental

state whereby one’s focus or awareness is on the present moment, uncontaminated

by ideas, thoughts, interpretations, or emotions (Dhiman, 2009; Djikic, 2014; Dunne,

2015; Farb et al., 2007; Gethin, 2015; Hassad, 2008; Kabat-Zinn, 2012; Langer 2014;

Rock, 2009). Many scales have been developed to measure mindfulness, the two

most commonly used being the Five Facet Mindfulness Questionnaire (Baer, Smith,

Hopkins, Krietemeyer, & Toney, 2006) and the Mindful Attention Awareness Scale

(Brown & Ryan, 2003). In my experience as a practitioner and teacher of mindfulness,

and through an exhaustive review of various definitions of mindfulness, it is my opinion

that the construct may be best understood experientially rather than experimentally

and is most usefully translated as applied in a personal, professional, and spiritual

leadership context.

Cloud (2006, p. 2) calls mindfulness “the meditation-inspired practice of observing

thoughts without getting entangled with them”. Other definitions and practices of

mindfulness have evolved from contemporary psychology, ancient spiritual traditions,

meditation practices and therapeutic interventions. A two-part definition has been

proposed that involves the self-regulation of attention, and a present-centred

orientation to experience. In their attempt to propose an operational definition for

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mindfulness, Bishop et al. (2004) demarcate mindfulness meditation practices from

other components or psychological constructs that ensue as a result of a mindful

approach to the world, such as self-observation, openness to experience, curiosity,

acceptance, and liberation from an ego mind-set, flow, compassion (Kabat-Zinn, 2003;

Langer, 2014; Langer & Moldoveanu, 2000; Tolle, 2005). The ‘self-regulation of

attention’ points to a meditative cognitive and active application of mindful attention,

while the ‘present-centred orientation’ focuses on a behavioural attitude of openness

and curiosity.

In an autoethnographic study of the impact of mindfulness-based stress reduction

programs, Atzev (2017) discusses how these meditative approaches, which

emphasise awareness, and the regulation of emotions (particularly negative ones) and

attention, fail to address deeper forms of suffering. He says that awareness and self-

regulation omit the essential Buddhist concept of ‘no-independent’ self and the

exploration of emotion (p.4). From this standpoint, I have added the idea of

mindfulness as a conscious discipline, a way of living in the present, whatever the

emotional state, and being free from a conditioned ego, as a part of a collective

consciousness (Tolle, 2005).

As already indicated, this study weaves the definitions, practices, and approaches to

mindfulness as elicited from the literature and the narratives. However, studying all

existing definitions, practices, and approaches to mindfulness is beyond the scope of

the study and would require at least a book on its own. Therefore, aligned with the

study purpose, namely, to design a model that may be used to both describe and apply

mindfulness in a useful, transformative way in a leadership context, I decided to focus

on three specific aspects of mindfulness that I have identified through my years of

academic research, practical workshops, talks, and coaching. These aspects have

enabled me to obtain an integrative understanding of mindfulness which can be used

to expand personal leadership.

I deemed it useful to track the historical development of mindfulness to support an

understanding of the wide applications of terms that are used to refer to the construct.

This reflection on the evolution of mindfulness from ancient spiritual practices to

present-day application aims to enrich the validity of the processes that are presented

as a model in Chapter 8.

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3.4 THE EVOLUTION OF MINDFULNESS

Historically, mindfulness is attributed to ancient spiritual and philosophical traditions

such as Buddhism, Taoism, Krishna, Bhakti, Toltec, Shaman and others (Davis &

Hayes 2011; Kabat-Zinn, 2003; Ruiz, 2007). References to the construct abound in

ancient mythology, Indian Vedic traditions (Walsh & Shapiro, 2006) and classical

Greek Socratic and western philosophical traditions and have been emerging since

Plato and Aristotle (Cameron-Smith, 2004; Djikic, 2014). Mindfulness is referenced in

many religious traditions including Christianity, with its centring prayers of the Middle

Ages, Jewish contemplative practices and the Muslim practice of Sufism (Mudd, 2014;

Tolle, 2005). More recently, mindfulness is being expounded in modern literature,

neuroscience (Ringleb, Rock, & Ancona, 2015; Rock & Tang, 2010; Siegel, 2010,

2012) and even the Hippocratic traditions of Western medicine (Kabat-Zinn, 2003).

The word ‘mindfulness’ was originally translated from Buddhist texts in 1881 by T.W.

Rhys (Gethin, 2011; Tang & Posner, 2008; Williams & Kabat-Zinn, 2013). The word

comes from the Pali word sati which refers to awareness, attention, and remembering

(Davis & Hayes, 2011) and the Sanskrit word smṛti, a technical term used by the

Buddha to identify the process of cultivating a healthy mind (Hwang & Kearney, 2015).

Mindfulness may be interpreted in different ways depending on the ideological,

academic, practical or philosophical paradigm (Tang & Posner, 2008). The popular

application of a meditative mindfulness practice emerged around the 1950s in the

western world and has evolved as a clinical, social, educational and spiritual practice

which promotes mental wellness. In the late 1990s, the field of mindfulness-based

applications in areas such as healthcare, education, psychotherapy, neuroscience,

business, and leadership burgeoned exponentially (Williams & Kabat-Zinn, 2013).

The scientific and medical interest in mindfulness has allowed western empirical

science to connect with both the philosophy of mindfulness as a mind-set, and the

application of meditation practices. Meditation is seen as a means of alleviating stress

and suffering, while the convergence of epistemological applications of mindfulness

allows traditional spiritual approaches to be useful in a personal leadership context

(Williams & Kabat-Zinn, 2013). This meeting of spiritual and practical or eastern and

western ideas is demonstrated powerfully through the influence of the Dalai Lama,

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who frequently hosts neuroscience and spiritual discussions in his home-in-exile,

Dharamsala, in northern India. Gyatso (2006) quotes him as saying:

I feel, there might be great potential for collaborative research between

mindfulness the Buddhist contemplative tradition and neuroscience. For

example, modern neuroscience has developed a rich understanding of the

brain mechanisms that are associated with both attention and emotion.

Buddhist contemplative tradition, given its long history of interest in the

practice of mental training, offers on the other hand practical techniques for

refining attention and regulating and transforming emotion (2006, p. 96).

A meditative, cognitive and active application of mindful attention, as well as a

behavioural attitude of openness and curiosity, has been shown to incorporate Eastern

and Western ideas of mindfulness (Bishop et al.; 2004; Cloud, 2006). Added to this

definition is the idea of mindfulness as a conscious discipline, a way of living free from

a conditioned ego and in the present (Tolle, 2005). This threefold definition requires a

more detailed explanation.

3.5 INTRODUCING MEDITATION, INTENTIONALITY, AND CONSCIOUSNESS

To move towards one of the objectives of the study, namely, the practical application

of mindfulness, I introduce three identified approaches to mindfulness – self-

regulation, or meditation; orientation to experience, or intentionality, and, finally,

consciousness. 6

6 This is a high-level introduction that will be further developed in chapters 5, 6 and 7.

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Figure 3.1: A Conceptual Framework describing mindfulness

3.5.1 Meditation

Mindfulness meditation may be defined as a process of bringing a particular quality of

attention to one’s moment-by-moment experiences (Kabat-Zinn, 1994). The

understanding of mindfulness emerging from this definition may be termed ‘meta-

awareness’, which involves being aware of one’s state of consciousness and

dispassionately watching oneself (and others) in action (and interaction) (Rock, 2008).

The result of this for the practitioner is the creation of a “mental separation between

the observer and observed. This, in turn, enables the individual to make choices about

the stream of his/her attention” (Bloem, 2012, p. 99).

As one of the most widely known and respected practitioners of mindfulness, Kabat-

Zinn (1994) has spoken about mindfulness as a possible reawakening, which has the

potential to determine a transformation in the 21st century. He describes mindfulness

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as a “collective consciousness and determination that may emerge to create a

sustainable collective drive towards a mindful global energy. What needs to happen is

a sharing knowledge and awareness and from there the possibility of creating

systems, processes, institutions that may embrace, teach, develop and embed a

philosophy of conscious living” (Kabat-Zinn, 1994, p. 4). Kabat-Zinn’s theories are

corroborated many times in the literature on mindfulness. The topic has even reached

policy level with parliamentary groups challenged to see how it may influence public

legislation across healthcare, criminal justice, education and business arenas (Mudd,

2014).

Scholars today define the experience of paying close attention to the present in an

open and accepting way through the concept of mindfulness (Bishop et al., 2004;

Kabat-Zinn, 2003). The idea is to experience being ‘in the present’, that is, being aware

of experience as it occurs in real time, and accepting what you see (Tang & Posner,

2008). This is most frequently done by using sensory experiences to focus attention –

such as breath awareness, focusing on sounds or visual images, or taste or touch. It

could also be a combination of these (Batchelor, 2007; Siegel, 2007; Tan, Lo, &

Macrae, 2014; Tang & Posner, 2014). Mindfulness is a “trait everyone possesses to

some degree and which can be developed in many ways” (Bloem, 2012, p. 100).

3.5.2 Intentionality

Mindfulness as orientation to experience, or ‘intentionality’, as framed for the purposes

of this thesis, is evident in Ellen Langer’s so-called “Western” or secular approach

(Williams & Kabat-Zinn, 2013). She defines mindfulness as a means of drawing novel

distinctions and focusing on doing so with awareness (Langer, 2010). Langer

emphasises noticing aspects of a situation or thing that may not have been noticed

before, in a way that is focused and self-directed. Being mindful from this perspective

begins with the focused self-regulation of attention and is then applied to a purposeful

orientation of one’s attention (Bishop, 2004). An example would be focusing on your

child – paying full attention to him/her and then purposefully listening for their

emotional state as they speak. This implies using focus practices, which may then

allow for a skilful response to any situation.

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Siegel (2007) argues that there is no fixed or final definition for mindfulness, but his

research weaves together the science, subjective experience and professional

applications to ensure a valid and useful approach for mental wellbeing, especially as

applied to daily life and one’s reactions to events. From this viewpoint, mindfulness

from a neuroscience perspective begins with disciplined attention to our experiences

which has the result of helping us to regulate our responses. It entails a purposeful

focus of thinking, emotion and action. This has an impact on our professional and

personal effectiveness. Siegel mentions that mindfulness may be seen as integrating

body and mind and relationships. This integration forms the basis of social and

emotional intelligence and success. Mindfulness as intentionality will investigate the

role of mindfulness as it is applied to our experiences and how this drives us to improve

our thinking, emotions, behaviour, and interactions and, therefore, influences the

results we experience.

3.5.3 Consciousness

Developing the construct further, Eckhart Tolle (2005) refers to mindfulness as the

experience of living in the present – “consciousness in its pure state prior to

identification with form” (p. 3). Behavioural studies on conditioning have found that our

behaviour and thoughts and beliefs (which Tolle calls ‘ego’) are a result of the

experiences we have, most particularly in our formative developmental years. Whether

it is Freud’s unconscious and subconscious impulse that drives behaviour, Rogers’

concept of self as a response to the external phenomenal field, or behavioural theories

such as Pavlov’s and Skinner’s classical and operant conditioning, many

psychological theories point to perceived reality as the determinant of experience

(Pervin, 1989). Tolle and other Buddhist texts speak about rising above this

conditioning into a place of non-ego responses (Kornfield, 2009; Tolle, 2005).

The consciousness approach uses meditation as a means of entering a state of

consciousness, which Tolle calls “no thought” (2005). He refers to the conditioned

mind as being preoccupied with ego and advocates stepping out of ego and into a

present centred state of consciousness, unaffected by the opinions, experiences,

attitudes, and beliefs assumed throughout our life.

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The three approaches to mindfulness, introduced here as meditation, intentionality,

and consciousness, are developed in detail through the research. However, before

doing this, it is useful to briefly examine the benefits of mindfulness for a life of purpose,

power and presence, particularly in the context of leadership and spirituality.

3.6 MINDFULNESS, SPIRITUALITY, AND LEADERSHIP

Paradoxically, a supposedly simple practice is ancient, complex and powerful. Existing

research shows mindfulness as a tool for reaching high levels of execution, and

mindfulness training has demonstrated substantial improvements in performance

measurements of cognitive and affective functions (Chambers, Chuen Yee Lo, &

Allen, 2005). Hassad (2008) says, “the physical body … will reflect or express

whatever is going on in the mind” (p. 53), showing how creating a calm, mindful state

has a dramatic effect on physical wellbeing.

Empirical studies supporting the value of mindfulness as a means of creating

psychological and physical wellbeing are extensive and well researched and

mindfulness has begun to be seen as a critical competency in the field of leadership.

Leadership may be defined in many ways – as a construct and a competency, as a

theory and a paradigm. The definition should be in alignment with the purpose and

objectives of the researcher (Kleon & Rinehart, 1998) and when aligned with

mindfulness it speaks to the potential of enhancing the presence and influence of the

leader. Leadership may be defined as “authentic influence that creates value”

(Cashman, 2008, p. 24). This involves self-awareness, meaningful communication

and a passion for meaning and purpose, all of which are reflected in mindfulness

practice. The evolution of leadership theory has shifted from the ‘nature’ explanation,

whereby leadership was inborn, to being seen as a “learnt” competency (Worldsview

Consulting, 2009), to a current-day perspective of coming from “a deeper reality within

us; it comes from our values, principles, life experiences and essence” (Cashman,

2008, p. 22). It is clear, then, that meditation practice, the application of intentionality,

and the growth of consciousness, will add value to the development of leadership

capacity.

Covey (1996, p. 324) maintains that “[i]n a very real sense there is no such thing as

organizational behaviour. There is only individual behaviour. Everything else flows out

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of that”. In this study, this inner experience and the application of leadership principles

is what defines effective and powerful leadership competency. Leadership does not

occur in a vacuum (Kellerman, 2004) and this research aims to position mindfulness

in the leadership area.

The leadership literature is extensive (Cashman, 2008; Covey, 1997; Daft, 2014;

Dubrin, 2015; Du Toit, 2004; Kyle, 1998; Ruiz, 2007; Seligman, 1996) and vast and

diverse links exist between these studies and mindfulness. The connection between

leadership and mindfulness points to a shift in perception regarding important

leadership competencies (Dhiman, 2009; Langer, 2010; Tuleja, 2014). It provides a

focus on self-awareness as a critical skill for leadership (Ringleb et al., 2015). Despite

the extensive and credible evidence base reflecting the value of mindfulness practices

that currently exists, there is a need to provide further research to unite this rich and

varied field. Diana Winston, Director of the Mindful Awareness Research Centre at

UCLA says:

Mindfulness will be like the introduction of seat belts in cars; at first no one

thought they were important and now they are a safety requirement.

Mindfulness may become the seat belt of mental health and one day it will be

taught in schools for all people to practice (Dhiman 2009, p. 1).

De Klerk (2005), mentions that mindfulness and intentionality are critical to a self-

directed motivation for success and wellness at work. Further, a focus on personal

change, with a specific application of mindfulness principles is seen to be critical in

addressing transformation leadership interventions (Chawane, van Vuuren and Roodt,

2003). The literature does not yield a comprehensive integration of the varied

definitions of mindfulness, specifically in a personal and professional leadership

context, although an in-depth study was conducted by Dhiman, in which the construct

of mindfulness was defined from various perspectives and found to be valuable when

integrated into leadership practices. Alviles & Dent (2015) demonstrate that

mindfulness results in more informed decision making, mitigates against derailment

and accelerated development.

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This integration of mindfulness and leadership may be seen as adding a unique

spiritual dimension to a personal and professional competency. Through the decades

of my professional and academic practices and research in psychology, personal and

executive coaching, neuroleadership, trauma and addiction counselling, motivation

and learning workshops, and leadership training and facilitation, I have discovered that

mindfulness is a powerful medium for managing personal, interpersonal and

professional wisdom. It is clear to me that mindfulness as a business practice is

gathering momentum, both as a meditative and as a ‘being present’ practice (Kleiner,

2015).

The interest in mindfulness has been on the traditional spiritual practices, as well as

scientifically based behavioural interventions that have academic reliability and

validity. In the 21st century there is a growing emphasis on developing spirituality in

the workplace (Raymennt, 2007) as a leadership competence. As mentioned, Ellen

Langer insists that the problems most organisations face are a direct result of

inattention, and that mindful environments are a means of providing innovation and

effectiveness in business (Kleiner, 2015); however, the complexity of spirituality, as a

multidimensional construct, provides challenges for the practitioner in developing a

strategy for implementation (Gotsis, 2007). It does have significant value and depth

as a critical spiritual leadership competence.

3.7 SUMMARY

Chapter 3 has provided a template for the spokes of the wheel that follow by

introducing the construct of mindfulness, which was then followed by an in-depth

exploration of the construct.

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CHAPTER 4

MEDITATION – A FOUNDATION FOR A SPIRITUAL APPROACH TO LEADERSHIP

“There are two ways to wash the dishes. The first is to wash the dishes in

order to have clean dishes, and the second is to wash the dishes in order to

wash the dishes” (Nhat Hahn, 1976, p. 4).

4.1 INTRODUCTION

In this chapter I introduce the practice of meditation, the first of the

three core conceptualisations of mindfulness, as symbolised by the

head, and as such, I explore the neuroscience explanation of the

practice, and the benefits associated; finally, I explore different

ways of practising meditation and share a meditation transcript.

From a tentative attempt to master transcendental meditation in my teens to various

forays into Vipassana7 in a yoga class, chakra8 meditation at a meditation retreat, and

learning how to do Reiki9; finally, I discovered a meditation practice which resonated

with my need to combine a logical scientific process with my growing spiritual

awareness. I explored mindfulness, as a defining thread of warrior behaviour and

thinking, in my master’s research (Bloem, 2012). In the ensuing discussion, I explore

the practice of meditation as a means of training the warrior mind. This is done by

providing an understanding of what mindful meditation is.

4.2 WHAT IS MINDFULNESS MEDITATION?

Mindfulness meditation is derived from the Buddhist practice of sati, which is a cogent

awareness of what is occurring in the phenomenological external reality and is linked

to the concept of memory (Chiesa, 2013; Salmon, 2010; Thera, 2001). The Sanskrit

word dharma (lawfulness) and the Chinese notion of Tao (the way things are) are other

descriptors of mindfulness. More connections include the Theravada traditions of

Southeast Asia, the Mahayana (Zen) schools of Vietnam, China, Japan and Korea,

7 Vipassana – one of India’s most ancient forms of breathing meditations 8 Chakra – Centre’s in the body that esoteric Indian traditions believe to be psychic energy centres 9 Reiki – a Japanese form of alternative healing using what is believed to be ‘life energy’

administered through the laying on of hands.

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the Vajrayana tradition of Tibetan Buddhism found in Tibet, Mongolia, Nepal, Bhutan

and Ladakh, and the practice of vipassana (clear seeing) which originated in India.

(Kabat-Zinn, 2003; Tolle, 2009, Walsh,1980; Walsh & Shapiro, 2006).

The Buddhist practice of mindfulness meditation involves openness to the present and

is defined as a “dispassionate, non-evaluative and sustained moment-to-moment

awareness of perceptible mental states and processes” (Grossman et al., 2004, cited

in Hassad, 2008, p. 6). Hassad calls this state “restful alertness” (p. 3), and states that

it comprises a number of facets including arousal, orientation, and attention or focus.

Meditation is one of the most widely used and easily accessible therapeutic and self-

regulatory mental control methods available (Walsh & Shapiro, 2006). Although

associated with Indian and Eastern spirituality, it is gaining traction in the West as a

psychotherapeutic technique.

Kabat-Zinn (2003) emphasises the attentional stance of mindfulness practice and his

definition is one of the most widely used in Western research. He defines it as “the

awareness that emerges through paying attention on purpose, in the present moment,

and non-judgementally to the unfolding of experience, moment by moment” (Kabat-

Zinn, 2003, p. 145). He calls mindfulness the “fundamental attentional stance

underlying all streams of Buddhist meditative practice” (p. 146). A guided meditation

practice typically asks a practitioner to find a comfortable position – either seated,

reclining or lying down. The attention is then drawn to particular subjective aspects of

the current moment, within or external to the mind and body. Typically, the practitioner

focuses on their breath as they breathe in and out. Other sensory experiences may

be engaged, such as smell, taste, sound, visual, air pressure, air temperature,

orientation in space – the possibilities for focus areas are extensive. A broad overview

of the thousands of available guided mindfulness meditations online shows the

expansiveness of the options. Aspects that may be focused on in these guided

meditations include compassion, loving kindness, a body scan and breath awareness.

The possibilities are endless. Most importantly, as per Kabat-Zinn’s definition, the

focus is engaged with an attitude of non-judgement, openness and awareness. One

of the unique qualities of mindfulness meditation is that when the mind drifts, the

practitioner has not failed in the meditation– the wandering attention becomes a part

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of the meditation as it is noticed, and the attention is gently re-engaged on the desired

focus aspect.

Mindfulness meditation is not merely a relaxation practice, but rather an active and

intentional state. Bricker and Labin (2012) refer to seven components that may be

used to focus attention in a meditative state:

• awareness

• choice and intention

• relaxation

• letting go

• here and now focus

• non-judgemental acceptance

• values.

These components emphasise the volitional and intentional focus on the here and now

with full and open awareness. They show the need for relaxation, implying low arousal

and calm, with an accompanying willingness to let go of obsessive thoughts and

rumination. There is a sense of openness to, and acceptance of, whatever intrusive

thoughts may arise while showing a willingness to refocus the attention without

judgement. The interesting component of values is also reflected in Kabat-Zinn’s

recommendation that we may meditate on one’s self, values, or purpose as a means

of connecting to one’s sense of meaning.

As can be seen from this brief overview of some techniques of mindfulness meditation,

the possibilities for paying non-judgemental attention in the present moment are

endless. In everyday life one rarely pays attention to an object or event without

automatic, emotionally reactive, discriminatory action (Thera, 2001), which may have

negative results. The experience of sustained attention, or meditation, by contrast, is

the foundation for eliminating suffering (Bishop et al., 2004). It is also a means of

enhancing the learning that comes from experience, as well as paving the way for

greater awareness, acceptance, and sense of purpose as one makes choices and

engages in the phenomenological world (Chiesa, 2013).

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Mindfulness meditation is used as a process to re-establish a natural state in our being

as opposed to an anxious, stressed state that is out of alignment with a peaceful mind.

Regular practice has been shown to enhance awareness and build resilience and

emotional intelligence. In my lectures on the brain and human functioning, I use a

neuroscience perspective to explain and validate mindfulness meditation. This has the

benefit of creating a scientific understanding of how meditation may be used to

enhance personal and professional leadership.

4.3 THE NEUROSCIENCE OF MINDFULNESS

A prominent thought leader in the field of mindfulness, Dr Yi-Yuan Tang, a leading

neuroscientist in China, describes mindfulness meditation as a mental process, one

that requires attention and self-regulation (Tang & Posner, 2008). Farb et al. (2008)

describe this as the capacity to disengage from narrative generative thoughts and

activate “present-centred self-awareness” (p. 314).

Conceptually, we may be seen to have two circuits ‘running’ in our brain. The Farb

study (2008) calls the first a narrative, or “story” circuit. The study also refers to it as

the default network. This is the network that we engage in when we are thinking about

ourselves or other people; it is the network that activates when we are planning,

imagining, worrying, ruminating and daydreaming. Buckner et al. (2005) describe the

default state as mainly preoccupied with oneself, hijacking the executive function of

our brain. We spend much of our wakeful time in the narrative circuit. This story-telling

default zone becomes active whenever we are not engaged in focused cognitive

activity.

This narrative circuit is an inattentive, idle mind state that is always focused in the past

or in the future. In addition, because of the negativity bias of our brain (sabre-tooth

tiger trumps delicious berries for our attention every time), our neural meanderings are

most often negative. I don't dreamily contemplate my forthcoming blissful future-state,

but rather agonise over what may not happen to threaten that bliss. “You aren’t ever

fully here because you are always trying to get elsewhere” (Tolle, 2009, p. 123).

The other circuit described in the Farb study (Farb et al., 2007) is the circuit of direct

experience, which supports present-centred self-awareness. Brain regions connected

to paying attention, perceiving bodily sensations and regulating emotion are activated

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when we experience information coming into our senses in the present. This sense-

experience has no story or narrative attached to it and is inversely correlated with the

default circuit. What this means is that when we activate our present moment

awareness, we disengage from worry, fear, anxiety, regret, rumination, and

disappointments. In the present state, there is no story. There is merely an experience,

free of emotional valence. I have designed a visual representation of what this process

looks like:

Figure 4.1: A conceptual representation of the neuroscience behind the mindfulness experience

Source: Developed by the author

Siegel (2007b) encourages us to view mindfulness as a state (in the moment) that can

become a trait (a way of being). One may activate a state of mindfulness by meditating,

and this state becomes a trait if the meditation is practised frequently enough (Rock,

2009). Meditation is, therefore, the activity that trains the brain to be able to activate

calm awareness when required; being present and at peace. It was described by the

father of modern psychology, Henry James (2007), as far back as the 19th century:

The faculty of voluntarily bringing back a wandering attention over and over

again, is the very root of judgement, character, and will. No one is compos sui

if he have it not. An education which should improve this faculty would be the

education par excellence (p. 424).

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Cognitive behavioural therapy uses the Albert Ellis Rational Emotive Therapy Model,

which says that our conditioned beliefs or mindsets create our reality (Barlow, 2000).

It is the narrative circuit that is active when we ruminate on or worry about events that

occur in our lives. This narrative, in turn, creates an emotional charge that may result

in reactions based on a story, not on fact.

Man is not disturbed by events,

but by the view he takes of them

(Epictetus)

There is a reciprocal relationship between this narrative and creating a positive or

negative life for oneself. By increasing an awareness and openness to present-centred

experiences, we increase our focus and reduce emotional entanglements. As we

practise this skill of not getting lost in the default mode of negative thinking, but rather

being actively and consciously present in our experiences, we elicit more realistic and

positive experiences from our environment, a happy feedback loop.

Another way of describing this is to understand that before we perceive data it exists

as objective reality. As sensory input enters the brain, it is subject to a sorting and

interpreting process by which we attempt to identify patterns and make meaning

(Rock, 2009). This is completely personal and unique to every person. Ruiz (2007)

explains that the way we learnt everything we know is by paying attention to that which

we perceive:

By using our attention, we learned a whole reality, a whole dream. We learned

how to behave in society: what to believe and what not to believe; what is

acceptable and what is not acceptable; what is good and what is bad; what is

beautiful and what is ugly; what is right and what is wrong. It was all there

already – all that knowledge, all those rules and concepts about how to behave

in the world (p. 26).

A mindset that is centred on the narrative circuit – past or future – reflects our,

conditioned beliefs, values and needs, education, culture, parenting, political system

and life experiences. Candace Pert (1999) explains the neurochemical and molecular

science that proves that our emotions regulate what we see as reality. This reinforces

the importance of understanding that all experience that is driven through the narrative

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is subjective and has emotional charge. Each person’s experience and reality are

completely dependent on the perception they have about that reality. This is centred

in the conditioned mind. She describes this eloquently:

When the tall European ships first approached the early Native American, it

was such an ‘impossible’ vision in their reality that their highly filtered

perceptions couldn’t register what was happening and they literally failed to

‘see’ the ships. Similarly, the cuckolded husband may fail to see what

everyone else sees, because his emotional belief in his wife’s faithfulness is

so strong that his eyeballs are directed to look away from the incriminating

behaviour obvious to everyone else (Pert, 1999, p. 148).

To grasp how the narrative in our mind creates a reactive physiological and

psychological response, it is important to understand current explanations for

emotional states. Emotion researchers have begun to emphasise that emotions are

response tendencies that can be regulated; thus, when some event happens, be it a

major break up with a loved one or a car accident, experiencing or expressing

emotions is not inevitable. It is what people think or do that determines the strength

and duration of an emotional response (Gross, 2007).

Le Doux (1998) believes that the appraisal of an emotion is the cornerstone to

contemporary cognitive approaches to emotions. There are many appraisal theories

(Oatley, 2004; Ochsner & Gross, 2005) that are used to explain emotion, but Le Doux

says, “[i]n emphasizing cognition as the explanation of emotion, the unique aspects of

emotion that have traditionally distinguished it from cognition are left behind” (cited in

Gross, 2003, p.544). Le Doux points to the interrelatedness of emotions and

cognitions. Emotion are, in most cases, a feeling state of the inferred cognition

(automatic or learnt cognition) of a stimulus or event (Badenhorst & Smith, 2007). The

narrative circuit is activated when we engage in an emotive cognitive appraisal of a

neutral reality.

In contrast, by focusing on the present-moment awareness, thinking does not elicit an

emotional response and the person uses higher brain functions that allow one to be

strategic and conscious rather than reactive. The neuroleadership field, which was

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formally established in 2005, focuses on emotional regulation as a key area of

research into effective leadership characteristics (Ringleb, 2008).

Emotional regulation, which the neuroleadership field describes as “the ability to stay

cool under pressure” (Ochsner, 2004, p. 1), sees emotional stability as central to

leadership competency. The neuroleadership field researches and promotes the art

and science of mindful meditation as a means of doing this. Neuroscience research

validates competencies such as labelling, reappraisal and mindfulness as strategies

for developing emotional regulation (Gross, 2003).

Understanding the science behind mindfulness meditation is incomplete without a

discussion on why we should apply it in our lives. The practice is known to have

profound emotional, psychological, physiological and relationship benefits, which I

shall discuss now.

4.4 THE BENEFITS OF MINDFULNESS MEDITATION

Extensive writing has been done on the benefits of mindfulness meditation practices.

Here, I mention some of the well-documented benefits. By doing so, I merely touch on

a wealth of research into the physiological, neurological and psychological value of

meditation practices. Perhaps one of the best-known mindfulness meditation practices

is the Mindfulness-based Stress Reduction (MBSR) programme established by Jon

Kabat-Zinn at the University of Massachusetts (Kabat-Zinn, 1994). In one of his

papers, he states that mindfulness training has the “capacity to elevate our

consciousness up to and beyond the challenges posed by our technological advances

and harness them, as well as the power of the mind, for the greater good and harmony

of all people and the planet” (Kabat-Zinn, 1994, p. 2). Dr Yi-Yuan Tang applies the

Integrative Body-Mind Training (IBTM) (Tang & Posner, 2008), developed in China in

the 1990s, to show how mindfulness meditation may be used to improve social

cognition, self-regulation, and attention.

The science of mindfulness meditation has attracted the attention of neuroscientists

around the world and has been researched and reported on extensively, mostly

focusing on the power of the practice in a multitude of physiological and psychological

dimensions (Farb et al., 2007; Tang & Posner, 2008). Buckner et al. (2005) mention

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that the default circuit activates brain regions in young adults that are similar to those

areas later affected by Alzheimer’s disease.

An exciting discovery in the field of neuroscience, is that of neural plasticity, that is,

“the understanding that areas of the brain change in response to experience and that

new neurons grow throughout one’s lifespan” (Bloem, 2011. p.9). Focusing on a

particular thought, emotion or desire reinforces the associated neural circuits (Hassad,

2008). Brain plasticity is significantly enhanced by mindfulness meditation, resulting in

an improved ability to pay attention, process sensory information, manage pain and

promote neurogenesis (the growth of new neurons) (Bishop et al., 2004; Lazar et al.,

2005). In addition, there is ample research supporting the fact that mindfulness

meditation is directly associated with cortical thickness (Lazar et al., 2005) in key areas

of wellbeing, including self-referential, socio-emotional and executive capabilities,

reducing age-related cognitive decline, regulatory processes, and physiological and

emotional balance (Baltzell, 2017; Buckner et al., 2005; Hassad, 2008; Kirk, Fatola, &

Gonzalez, 2016; Tang & Posner, 2008; Teasdale, 1999; Walsh, 1980). Yi-Yuan Tang

points out that mindfulness training shows measurable results with as little as ten

minutes of daily meditation. It is also not necessary to become a master of the practice

to show measurable results (Tang et al., 2007).

Mindfulness may be thought of as a metacognitive skill, implying the ability to monitor

and control one’s thoughts (Bishop et al., 2005). Additional psychological benefits

include more optimism, decreased depression, greater self-awareness and self-

actualisation, reduced addiction, improved sleep, increased learning capabilities and

improved coping strategies (Hassad, 2008). Ashford and DeRue (2012) speak about

how powerful mindful engagement is for a leader as “individuals can approach their

experiences, go through their experiences, and reflect on their experiences in ways

that enhance the lessons of experience” (p. 149). Daniel Siegel, a recognised authority

in the field of mindfulness points to the fact that the ability to self-regulate is directly

correlated with the practice of mindfulness meditation (Siegel, 2007a).

The body has an automatic survival response to a stressful event, thought, or emotion

(Bloem, 2012, p.11). While emotions may be defined as responses automatically

elicited, self-regulation is “the shaping, planning and monitoring of behaviours over

time to Minimize Danger Maximize Reward” (Gordon, 2009, p. 72); thus, plasticity

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reflects this continual behavioural shaping. The capacity to manage this process is

critically related to allostatic load, which is the strain experienced physiologically as a

result of chronic and uncontrollable stress (Rock, 2009).

Allostatic load leads to impaired immunity, atherosclerosis, bone demineralisation,

atrophy of nerve cells in the brain and metabolic syndrome – all prevalent in chronic

depression and anxiety (Hassad, 2008). As this load increases, the emotional

responses are triggered more quickly, and the hippocampus (long-term memory)

shrinks. A surge of catecholamines (dopamine, norepinephrine and epinephrine) is

elicited in the peripheral and central nervous system. The physiological responses

include increased heart rate, breathing and blood pressure (Tang & Posner, 2008).

Inflammatory hormones such as cortisol, cytokines and interleukins, all affecting tissue

repair and immune system function, are released into the body (Hassad, 2008). This

response, commonly known as a fight, flight or freeze response, may be experienced

as not only a threat response but also as a consistent, unremitting emotional state of

anxiety.

“Everyone gets worried and anxious from time to time. The feeling of worry is similar

to one of excitement but accompanied by a sense of unease, apprehension, fear or

self-doubt and the anticipation of a threat of some kind” (Boyes, 2008, p. 134). If one

feels anxious a large percentage of the time, there is a strong tendency to spend much

time ruminating about negative and possibly even catastrophic outcomes. This is an

example of the narrative circuit in our minds focusing on the past or the future.

Smith (2009d) talks about the concept of the self-fulfilling prophecy. From this

perspective, anxiety, or worry creates a negative feedback loop and may manifest the

imagined negative consequence through expectation creating reality. Worry has been

shown to have an intimate relationship with depression and anxiety, with the

corresponding procrastination and perfectionism behaviour (Stöber, 2001). The

Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Psychological Disorders describes physical

symptoms such as insomnia, agitation, heart palpitations, tension, and difficulty

breathing. Also obsessing, ruminating, compulsive rituals and avoiding responsibilities

(Carson & Butcher, 1992).

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Du Toit (2004) describes the following characteristics of worry, depression, consistent

and intrusive worrying thoughts, being stuck in personal difficulties, spiritual

emptiness, negativity, emotional dysregulation and lack of awareness, helplessness

and hopelessness, impulsivity, anger, fear, reactivity, and blame. Heart disease is

becoming superseded by depression as the leading disease of the developed world

(Kirsch, Deacon, Huedo-Medina, Scoboria, & Johnson, 2008). In contrast,

mindfulness-based meditation programmes support a sustainable positive mood state

(Baer, Smith, & Allen, 2004).

When talking about mindfulness as a kind of present-centred awareness, without an

accompanying narrative (Kabat-Zinn, 1994), feelings, thoughts, and sensations are

observed dispassionately without over-identifying or reacting to them (Bishop et al.,

2004; Siegel, 2007a). This is not a practice of suppressing one’s experiences, but

rather of not elaborating on the experience. Applying mindful attention to physical

and/or emotional pain has been found to significantly decrease the emotional

component of the experience of pain. Bishop et al. (2004) state that emotional distress

is decreased because of the context of acceptance.

“In practicing mindfulness, one is taught to make friends with what is uncomfortable

by allowing it to be observed” (Stauffer, 2007, p. 26). In her book, Molecules of

Emotion (1999), Candace Pert describes how an athlete once described to her how

he had healed from a broken elbow and leapt back into action in record time simply

by focusing for twenty minutes each day on increasing the blood flow through the

injured joint. This dramatic example of the benefits of mindfulness, necessitates a

discussion on how to engage in mindfulness meditation.

4.5 APPLYING MINDFULNESS MEDITATION

Mindfulness is not merely a good idea such that, upon hearing about it, one can

immediately decide to live in the present moment, with the promise of reduced anxiety

and depression and heightened performance and life satisfaction, and then instantly

and reliably realize that state of being. Rather, it is more akin to an art form that one

develops over time, and it is greatly enhanced through regular disciplined practice,

both formally and informally, on a daily basis (Kabat-Zinn, 2003, p. 148).

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Practitioners of mindfulness meditation may use formal guided meditations that guide

one through a process of sensory awareness. These are commonly available online

as audios and videos. There are also many applications that can be downloaded for

smart devices. The meditation may also be self-directed, where the practitioner

chooses any point of sensory awareness on which to focus. Researchers at the Max

Planck Institute studied the phenomenological footprint of four types of mindfulness

meditation (Kok & Singer, 2016). These four types are breathing meditation, loving

kindness meditation, body scan meditation, and observing thought meditation. They

found that these meditations increased interoceptive awareness, feelings of warmth

and positive thoughts about others, as well as positive affect, meta-cognitive

awareness and energy, with less thought distraction. These are just some examples

of a few of the forms of mindfulness meditation and their effects – there are many more

types that may be used as a meditative practice. This is beautifully described in the

Bhagavad Gita (6. 19–20): “When meditation is mastered, the mind is unwavering like

the flame of a candle in a windless place” (Johnson, 2008).

The key element of all mindfulness meditations is the focus of attention with non-

judgement. In my training and coaching practice, I allow my participants to experience

the following guided meditation10.

Meditation by Colleen Lightbody – 07.03.2017

Sit comfortably in your seat. Know that you are going to be sitting for a few minutes

and just feel your body in your chair. Allow your eyelids to settle. What I am going to

do is talk you through various places where you can be present, and at the end of

this meditation, I am going to ring my Tibetan chimes11. This is the sound – strike

chime once.

At the end of the meditation I will ring this chime three times and we will slowly and

gently leave the meditation.

So, to begin with, just feel the sensation of your feet against the floor – notice your

feet as they are settling against the floor.

10 This may be downloaded from http://www.brainwise.co.za/index.php/blog#. 11 Tibetan Chimes – brass hand chimes made by Nepali craftsmen

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Now notice the sensation of your feet in your shoes

– you might feel warmth, you might feel pressure,

tingling. Just feel your feet in your shoes.

Now, feel the feeling of your legs against the chair.

Just notice what you experience when you think

about your legs against the chair.

Notice any sensations in your stomach.

Pay attention to your breathing as you breathe in, and out – gently slow your

breathing down, breathe in, and out, slowly breathing …

Now, feel the sensation of your breathing through your nostrils.

Feel the sensation of your breathing in your chest as your chest rises and falls.

Feel the sensation of your breathing in your stomach as your stomach expands and

contracts.

Pay attention to your shoulders – you might feel some tension, just loosen your

shoulders, relax your shoulders, feel that relaxation as your shoulders settle into a

comfortable position.

Now, pay attention to any sounds that you can hear around us.

Pay attention to any visual images behind your eyelids. You might see dark, light,

patterns, shapes …

Now we are going to take a journey into your mind, in your inward mind, into your

imagination. I would like you to picture a place that is very beautiful to you, very

peaceful. It can be a real place that you know, or you can make it up; possibly

somewhere in nature … picture any place which makes you feel peaceful and at

ease …

Notice what you experience in that place: what colours are there, what sounds.

You are sitting in your chair in this beautiful place.

You are comfortable, you are breathing steadily in and out, and you are going to

invite somebody to join you in your peaceful place.

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You have a chair opposite you, and you invite your future self to come and sit in the

chair opposite you.

You welcome your future self.

Your future self has some words of wisdom for you.

Your future self would like to tell you what it is you need to pay attention to, right now

in your life.

You reflect …

What is it that you need to pay attention to? Your wise future self is gently asking.

Your future self would like to give you a gift. This gift is symbolic of the wisdom that

he or she has to share, and even if you haven’t found the wisdom now, this gift will

symbolise that wisdom so that you can connect to it at any time.

Your future self gives you a package, and you open that package and inside that

package is a symbol – something that symbolises the meaning of this conversation.

Perhaps you are not sure what it is?

You can think about that later.

You thank your future self and your future self leaves.

Pay attention once again to your beautiful surroundings and now you come back to

this room and you are sitting in this chair in this room.

Once again feel the sensation of the chair against your body.

Listen to all the sounds that we can hear around us.

Pay attention to the visual images behind your eyelids.

Feel the sensation of air pressure on your body.

Experience your sense of balance as you are sitting in that chair.

Focus on your body and any muscles, parts of your body that feel tense.

Pay attention to those areas and relax those areas.

It might be in your back, your jaw, your shoulders, solar plexus, legs … and as you

slowly pay attention to your body, as you relax into the seat, pay attention to any

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emotions that you may be feeling – good or bad – it has no meaning … it’s just an

emotion.

Just experience what emotions are there for you right now.

Now, I am going to ring the Tibetan bells three times, and, after the third time, you

can slowly and gently open your eyes.

The various styles of mindfulness meditation are further explicated in chapter 8,

whereby the model and process for the facilitation of a mindfulness way of being is

explored.

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4.6 SUMMARY

Mindfulness meditation is the training ground for a mindfulness state and forms the

first step in the threefold conceptualisation of mindfulness. This chapter explored the

meaning and practice of mindfulness meditation, and the neuroscience explanation

for this. The extensive benefits of the practice were explored as well as some

variations of the practice. The meditation practice that I use in my training was

described in detail. This chapter will be followed by the second conceptualisation of

mindfulness, intentionality.

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CHAPTER 5

INTENTIONALITY – EIGHTY-SIX FOUR HUNDRED

5.1 INTRODUCTION

This chapter consists of two parts. In the first part, I begin with a blog called 86400,

which I wrote and published in Brain Guru in 2016 (www.brainwise.co.za). The blog

presents a fun, colloquial explanation of intentionality. Intentionality is the second

conceptualisation of mindfulness presented in this study. The academic research is

presented in the second part of this chapter, as I offer a formal presentation of

intentionality as a western idea of mindfulness. This is symbolised by a pair of hands,

representing action.

5.2 86400

If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as a

Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry.

He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to

say, “Here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well”

(Martin Luther King, cited in Warren, 2001, p. 146)

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (required reading for sci-fi-geekdom) posits that

the “Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything” is “42”. As

presumptuous as it is to disagree with such a philosophical and scientific tome, I say

the answer is “Eighty-six four hundred”.

While it took Deep Thought (the supercomputer in Hitchhiker’s Guide), seven and a

half million years to come up with this answer, I found mine in a moment, on a bicycle

ride to Durban with my wise friend, Lafras.

Our brains are story-telling machines that are relentlessly whirring

away either in the past or in the future, and we are addicted to

drama and worry and assumptions and pessimism. We spend 95

per cent of our lives in the narrative in our head. When you are

washing the dishes – do you feel the warmth of the soapy water,

and the sensation of the plate as you move your hands around its smooth edge? When

you come home from work, and your daughter greets you, do you see her unique

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beauty and listen to her words and stay curious about what she is saying and how

she’s feeling? When you walk into the board meeting, do you walk in the shoes of a

wise leader with the purpose of piloting the organisational craft in the best way

possible?

Rather, we think about what went wrong or what could go wrong; about the mistakes

we made, or someone else made, or what mistakes we could make. We ruminate on

what is for lunch or about the meeting we have to prepare for tomorrow and worry

about what we think people thought or what we think they should think. Our thoughts

are filled with regret, recriminations, and blame; or project into fear, assumptions, and

anxiety. If you habitually awaken at 2 a.m., you will know exactly what I mean. In the

middle of the night, you don’t dreamily reflect on the wonders of the universe. Rather,

you lie in darkness, roaming the neural labyrinths of apprehension and worry.

Reality is merely a reflection of our perceptions. There is no such thing as absolute

truth, only our subjective experience of it. The future cannot be forecast (one day I am

definitely going to ask a fortune teller to predict the lotto numbers), and our

interpretation of the past lurks in our unreliable hippocampus. Our memory centre is

created only through our perceptions of our experiences and has a mischievous way

of deluding us into thinking we are always right. We cannot touch or taste or see or

feel reality; therefore, all of this cerebral meandering is simply an abstraction that is

primarily negative.

The role of this default activity in my brain is to maintain an ambient neural state that

is continually aware and responsive to stimuli, even while I am sleeping. It is a self-

reflective, self-referential and pessimistic state that is automatic and unconscious.

There is a functional survival reason for the pessimism. When you were living in a

cave, you needed to pay much more attention to the possibility that a sabre-toothed

tiger could be hiding behind the Maroela12 tree than to the pleasing view of your fur-

clad mate.

In contrast, a conscious state that engages the prefrontal cortex and other primary

cortical areas is alert, curious and intentional. Alas, this state is metabolically intensive

12 Maroela tree - an indigenous deciduous tree that provides edible fruit for humans

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and limited; hence, the predisposition to mindless negative neural chatter, or merely

daydreaming, as a state of being.

Enter my wise warrior friend, Lafras. On the bike ride, I took a photo of him standing

next to a field of bold sunflowers. When I forwarded it on WhatsApp, I noticed his

status read ‘86400’. “What is that?” I asked. He replied: “It’s how many seconds there

are in a day. I have put it there to remind me to live every second and to not let my life

go by in a blur of unconsciousness.” We got back on our bikes, and we didn’t speak

for a while. We just pedalled comfortably next to each other, feeling and tasting and

smelling and noticing the seconds.

Being deliberately mindful is about being engaged with what and who we are rather

than being distracted and unconscious. The mindfulness of intentionality allows us to

choose how we show up in our lives. It allows us to be present and purposeful in every

experience and with every person we meet.

Aristotle called the experience of living in a full and satisfying way ‘eudemonia’. It is

believed that when feeling eudemonia, time stops, and self-consciousness is blocked;

an individual experiencing this route is in ‘flow’. To achieve this state, a person needs

to know what they are good at, then to deliberately organise one’s life around that to

honour it and use it more. I call this Living Your Truth13. Success does not fall out of

the sky and land on your head. It takes commitment, courage, effort, and self-control.

Choose to do what you love, honour your strengths and your values and stand in Your

Truth. Be it in relationships, health, work or social life, when we inhabit a state of

purposeful intention the effects are remarkable.

You have 86400 seconds every day where you can choose how you show up in the

world. You can be present with your loved ones, purposeful in your leadership, taste

your food, hear the music, be curious and filled with wonder. This is the “Answer to

the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything”.14 (www.brainwise.co.za)”

13 Discussed in detail in chapter 8 14 More blogs connected to neuroscience may be found on my website at

http://www.brainwise.co.za/index.php/blog

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5.3 DEFINING MINDFULNESS THROUGH INTENTIONALITY

A “western approach” (p. 258) to mindfulness (Baltzell, 2017; Ngnoumen & Langer,

2014) involves bringing full cognitive capacity to a task by engaging with multiple

perspectives and paying attention to the context. Kleiner (2015) describes this form of

mindfulness as being present-centred and holding an open frame of mind. Deliberate

awareness as a means of developing a frame of mind open to possibility and

reinterpretation is described by Langer and Moldoveanu (2000) as a “process of

drawing novel distinctions” (p. 1). This keeps us wholly involved in our experiences

and supports sensitivity and receptiveness to our environment, promotes creativity in

problem-solving and awareness of multiple perspectives. When we enter a state of

intentionality, we are in a state of metacognitive awareness that has elements of

mindfulness meditation in that we have no judgement and are in a state of acceptance,

as well as being present-centred and open (Bloem, 2011). The unique quality of this

aspect of mindfulness is the deliberate intent to action that allows the individual to

operate from a state of flow. This is a state of unselfconscious absorption in the

present moment (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990), which enables optimal performance and

purposeful behaviour.

Mindfulness is not only related to paying attention, which is characteristic of focused

meditative practices. Many practitioners and researchers have explored the life habits

that are associated with the practice (Altman, 2010; Langer, 2014 Tang & Posner,

2008). These include the ability to observe oneself, as well as being orientated to life

experiences characterised by openness, interest, and acceptance. Langer describes

this as being oriented in the present, sensitive to context, open to new information and

liberated from conditioned mind-sets. (Langer, 2014; Langer & Moldoveanu, 2000).

Shapiro, Carlson, Astin, and Freedman (2006) point out that what is often lacking in

conceptual definitions of the construct of mindfulness is the importance of intention.

These authors recognise the overlap of mindfulness with other constructs in

psychology, including those mentioned above as well as with a clinical approach

(Bishop et al., 2004). This allows for the application of adaptive strategies to

experiences and, consequently, constructive and useful behavioural responses. This

approach has profound research implications, as construct validity is enhanced

through objective outcomes and sees mindfulness more than a means to gain insight

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into oneself and the world, with the consequent psychological outcomes of more

functional and effective behavioural strategies. Although this approach may be

criticised as cumbersome or potentially confounding the attentional aspect of the

mindfulness construct, it allows for a measurable and practical implementation in

social, psychological, therapeutic, educational, health, performance and business

contexts (Bishop et al., 2004; Langer & Moldoveanu, 2000; Walsh & Shapiro, 2006).

The conceptualisation of mindfulness as a psychologically oriented description of a

cognitive process (Neale, 2006) may be contrasted with mindlessness – a way of

being that is guided by unconscious habits and impulses, inflexible conditioned mind-

sets and being on their automatic pilot; having a scattered mind (Bishop et al., 2004;

Langer, 1989; Neale, 2006; Stauffer, 2007). Kabat-Zinn (1994) describes a

mindfulness practice of cultivating a ‘beginners mind’, being non-judgemental and

releasing attachment to outcomes and conditions as a way of being mindfully present

in our experiences. From this stance, we can pursue a thoughtful and strategic

response to any situation. As Kabat-Zinn (2003) points out, “[t]he words for mind and

heart are the same in Asian languages; thus ‘mindfulness’ includes an affectionate,

compassionate quality within the attending, a sense of openhearted, friendly presence

and interest” (p. 144).

Contemporary psychology and the personal development field have focused on this

form of mindfulness as a way of increasing awareness, while also enabling a skilful

response to emotional and stressful circumstances and situations (Bishop et al.,

2004). The benefits range from the emotional to the practical and deserve discussion.

5.4 THE BENEFITS OF INTENTIONALITY

The positive psychology field talks about finding what Aristotle calls the “good life”

(Seligman, 2007) by focusing one’s mind on positive emotions, applying strengths

consciously (mindfully) and using virtue. The literature on attention-focused cognitive

predispositions that bring about mental wellbeing and leadership competence is

plentiful. Some examples include attentional awareness of positive or negative stimuli

(Snyder & Lopez, 2002), having an internal locus of control (Barlow & Durand, 1995),

and what Frankl describes as the “last of the human freedoms”, that is, to choose

one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances or to choose one’s way (Frankl, 2006).

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Daniel Pink (2005) says that those who value external validation such as money, fame

or beauty, and not internal self-worth tend to have poorer outcomes, while those who

are intentional about living their lives with meaning and purpose have greater success

and wellbeing.

A mindful approach of openness to context and living in the present implies an

optimistic approach to life, as opposed to a judgemental or fearful style. In his book,

Good to Great, Collins (2001) points out, however, that positivity must be grounded in

reality; otherwise, it may result in catastrophic consequences as depicted in the

Stockdale Paradox.

The Stockdale Paradox is named after Admiral Jim Stockdale who was the highest-

ranking US military officer imprisoned in Vietnam. He was imprisoned in the “Hanoi

Hilton” and frequently tortured over eight years. Jim Collins, in his book Good to Great,

describes meeting with Stockdale and heard how he survived eight years as a POW.

Many others died after a short time in captivity.

Stockdale replied: “I never lost faith in the end of the story. I never doubted not only

that I would get out, but also that I would prevail in the end and turn the experience

into the defining event of my life, which, in retrospect, I would not trade.”

When asked who didn’t make it out. Stockdale replied: “The optimists. They were the

ones who said, ‘we’re going to be out by Christmas’. And, Christmas would come, and

Christmas would go. Then they’d say, ‘We’re going to be out by Easter.’ And Easter

would come, and Easter would go. And then Thanksgiving, and then it would be

Christmas again. Then they died of a broken heart.”

It is about truly believing that one will survive and at the same time, banishing all false

hope. Stockdale advises that: “You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the

end – which you can never afford to lose – with the discipline to confront the most

brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.”

Optimism should not be confused with simply ‘being positive’ as a way to solve every

problem. Seligman says optimism works not through an unjustified positivity about the

world, but through the “power of 'non-negative' thinking" (Seligman, 1996, p. 221).

Learnt optimism is about building greater resilience and improving our performance

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by changing the way we interpret events. Resilience is a critical element of

‘survivorship’ and is a product of a positive approach to a high-risk situation (Smith,

Charles, & Hesketh, 2015). One needs to mindfully determine one’s response to the

present situation. The intentionality element of the comprehensive conceptualisation

of mindfulness engages with these aspects of leadership development.

Other classical existential themes such as experiencing meaning and purpose in one’s

life, being authentic and having a connection to something bigger than yourself (as in

Maslow’s theory of self-actualisation) are themes that emerge from a mindful approach

to how one lives one’s life (Gladwell, 2002; Pink, 2005; Sinek, 2016; Ulrich & Ulrich,

2010). The Mindful Attention Awareness Scale (MAAS), mentioned in chapter 3, was

developed by Kirk Brown (Brown & Ryan, 2003), and is still, a recognised valid and

reliable measure of an individual’s level of mindfulness. MAAS scores indicating

mindfulness engagement, are aligned with adaptive mental, physical and social

relationship scores (Rock 2009).

Fate whispers to the warrior

“you cannot withstand the storm”

and the warrior whispers back

“I am the storm” (Anonymous, n.d.)

Pineau, Glass, and Kauffman (cited in Ngnoumen & Langer, 2014) propose that a

social psychology-based definition of mindfulness is associated with relevant

performance-related aspects such as flow, attention, affect, and other psychological

and physical factors. The difference between traditional psychological interventions

and using mindfulness as a means of performance enhancement lies in the

conceptualisation of mindfulness as acceptance and living in the present moment

(Ruiz 2007). Paradoxically, attempting to control negative states draws our attention

to those states which may inhibit performance. A mindfulness approach of acceptance

and awareness arouses no affective response, as there is no ‘story’ attached to

experience. Our performance is, therefore, raised through uncontaminated focus and

effort.

David Rock (2009) comments that changing behaviour requires deepening our ability

to choose what to focus on from the menu of ideas popping into our consciousness.

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The power is in the focus (Bloem, 2011). It is in recognising the fact that, while we

cannot change external circumstances, we do have the choice to control our thoughts.

Intrusive mental chatter facilitates "thinking, instead of doing," says researcher Roland

Carlstedt a clinical sports psychologist with Capella University in New York City (cited

in Assael, 2009). Langer asserts that managing this chatter, responding purposefully

and choosing the direction of our focus enhances our ability to respond efficiently and

appropriately in all situations (Ngnoumen & Langer, 2014).

Mindfulness training has been shown to enhance performance measures of cognitive

and affective functions (Chambers et al., 2005). Dreyer (2004) used philosophies of

tai chi (a Chinese martial art benefiting both defence techniques and health benefits,

that embraces mindfulness) to enhance the abilities of athletes. Mindfulness will

produce a relaxed physiological state that enables the body to perform in competition

(Taylor & Wilson, 2005) ensuring that “the physical body … will reflect or express

whatever is going on in the mind” (Hassad, 2008, p. 53). If that is calm, focused and a

positive brain state, performance is enhanced.

In my unpublished case-study research towards a Postgraduate Diploma in

Neuroleadership through Middlesex University, I aimed to test the principles of

mindfulness and their application in improving the performance of a cyclist. Using a

variety of techniques reflecting this present-awareness, the cyclist was coached for 18

months. The cyclist’s performance significantly improved in this time (Bloem, 2011).

The intervention I applied with the cyclist, tested the principles of mindfulness, with the

purpose of providing insights into what may be useful for future performance

interventions. Various mindfulness-related techniques were applied, including positive

affirmations, emotional regulation, physical health choices (sleep, water and nutrition,

physical training and stretching), pain management, self-reflection, and accessing

‘flow’. Through rehearsal, creating rituals and mental programming, the cyclist began

a practice of daily visualisation

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Figure 5.1: The breakdown of the results achieved by the cyclist from January 2009 to

July 2011 reflecting the podium positions achieved15

Dr Waitley, co-author of Quantum Fitness, (1986) states that visualisation is the ability

of the mind to carry out the vivid images of performance as if they have been achieved

before and are merely being repeated. Dr Kay Porter used the term "visual athletics"

and believes that imaging a successful performance builds pre-race confidence and

helps identify and overcome possible race day obstacles (Dardik & Waitley, 1986).

Hassad (2008) says that this is like programming and reprogramming computers. In

the intervention I applied with the cyclist, he used mindfulness meditation and paying

attention to the present, as well as goal setting and visualisations (Bloem, 2011). The

cyclist developed the capacity to disengage from narrative generative thoughts and

activate “present-centred self-awareness” (Farb et al., 2007, p. 314), while using the

idea of neuroplasticity to create a desired outcome as though it had already been

achieved.

15 Download from:

http://www.brainwise.co.za/images/blog/mindfulCycling/BloemColleen_PGCNL_PDF4820_Formative.pdf)

8.0%

33.0%

66.0% 66.0%

83.0%

0.0%

10.0%

20.0%

30.0%

40.0%

50.0%

60.0%

70.0%

80.0%

90.0%

Jan-July 2009 July-Jan 2010 Jan-July 2010 July-Jan 2011 Jan-July 2011

Race Podium Positions

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Mindfulness may be applied to any area of performance, including sport, the

performing arts, scholarship, business, education, social effectiveness and paying

sustained attention to a task. The research is extensive in the area of mindfulness and

performance, with reliable evidence-based outcomes (Baltzell, 2017; Kabat-Zinn,

2009; Langer & Moldoveanu, 2000; Ngnoumen & Langer, 2014; Schmertz, Anderson,

& Robins, 2008; Shao & Skarlicki, 2009). The details of the research are wide-ranging

and beyond the scope of this dissertation.

Mindfulness is directly correlated with social intelligence, which may be seen as a

key requirement for leadership. According to the classical literature on the topic

(Chiesa, 2013), the development of mindfulness in one’s life is substantially

associated with an ethical development, consisting firstly of “guarding” oneself to be

of service to others and, secondly, of “guarding” others by the practices of patience,

harmlessness, loving kindness, and compassion (Gilpin, 2009). Millman (2000)

paraphrases a poem by Lao-tzu:

Peaceful warriors have three great treasures:simplicity, patience, and compassion.

Simple in actions and in thoughts,they return to the source of Being.

Patient with both friends and enemies,they live in harmony with the way things are.

Compassionate towards themselves,they make peace with the world.

Some may call this teaching nonsense;others may call it lofty and impractical.

But to those who have looked inside themselves,

this nonsense makes perfect sense.

And for those who put it into practice,this loftiness has deep roots.

Kabat-Zinn (2003) speaks about the qualities of empathy, kindness, and warmth as

being embedded in the definition of mindfulness. This element of the mindfulness

construct reflects the essence of the mindfulness social dispositional trait of being

sensitive and oriented generously towards others (Chiesa, 2012; Kyle, 1998; Langer,

2014; Ngnoumen & Langer, 2014). It allows us to be aware of own struggles and

mental processes which, in turn, encourage our connections and empathy with others

(Morgan & Morgan, 2005). In contrast, a mindless approach leads to prejudice and

stereotyping. A mindful person will be perceived as more genuine, which may override

unconscious biases and increase positive affect towards that person. Communication

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and social understanding are enhanced which may address a number of diverse social

problems (Langer & Moldoveanu, 2000). This is beautifully articulated by Nhat Hanh

(1976), a Vietnamese Buddhist monk and peace activist:

When your mind is liberated your heart floods with compassion: compassion

for yourself, for having undergone countless sufferings because you were not

yet able to relieve yourself of false views, hatred, ignorance, and anger; and

compassion for others because they do not yet see and so are still imprisoned

by false views, hatred, and ignorance and continue to create suffering for

themselves and for others. Now you look at yourself and at others with the

eyes of compassion, like a saint who hears the cry of every creature in the

universe and whose voice is the voice of every person who has seen reality

in perfect wholeness (p. 58–59).

Neural plasticity, as discussed in chapter 4, shows that areas of the brain change in

response to experience, and when we are mindful, we may determine the changes in

our brain (Bloem, 2011). Closely linked to the concept of plasticity, is the concept of a

growth mind-set. Carol Dweck (2006) refers to this as a mind-set that believes it is

possible to change through focused attention. Langer and Moldoveanu (2000) noted

that at the heart of mindfulness is change. Managing change is an inevitable and

necessary behaviour in leading organisations and a mindful approach is an enabler

for effective interventions. Gärtner (2013) found that a consciousness of and

willingness to change is inherently supported by a mindful leadership approach, where

managers are willing to examine their set beliefs and challenge their tacitly held

expectations. In addition, Mindfulness has found to be strongly correlated to effective

performance, interestingly, particularly in women (Aviles & Dent, 2015). A growth

mind-set allows one to respond proactively to setbacks and to set stretch goals.

Difficulties are faced as growth opportunities. A person with a fixed mind-set believes

that abilities and traits are genetically endowed; thus, one is unable to change. In other

words, anticipating posits a mindless, rule-bound, anxious and fearful approach to

tasks and performance. Djikic (2014) proposes that a western application of

mindfulness implies a growth mind-set, challenging our perspectives, being aware of

context, drawing novel distinctions and being situated in the present.

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5.5 SUMMARY

In this chapter I expanded on the first aspect of mindfulness of meditation by reflecting

on intentionality. The meditative state needs to be accompanied by the “right kind of

action” (Djikic, 2014, p. 140). This action has a sense of purpose that benefits

emotional, social, cognitive and physical wellbeing. Intentionality, as the second part

of the threefold mindfulness definition, has been explored through an examination of

western literature on the subject of mindfulness and its benefits for wellbeing.

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CHAPTER 6

CONSCIOUSNESS – THE WARRIOR SPIRIT

6 INTRODUCTION

In this chapter I explore the third conceptualisation of mindfulness, which I call

consciousness. I symbolise this by the heart. Primarily focusing on the work of Eckhart

Tolle, I discuss consciousness as an enlightened state unencumbered by

‘conditioning’ and ‘ego’.

6.2 WHAT IS CONSCIOUSNESS?

In June 2015, I was privileged to attend a retreat in California with

Eckhart Tolle, where I experienced the consciousness form of

mindfulness as shared by him in person (Eckhart Tolle Retreat for

Helping Professionals. Asilomar, Pacific Grove, California, 2–7

June 2015). Primarily, the consciousness interpretation of

mindfulness in this study, is centred on Eckhart Tolle’s work, as experienced by me at

the retreat, as well as on his descriptions and explanations in his many books and

lectures on the subject.

Talking about mindfulness as a discipline of consciousness, Walsh (1980) mentions

that various methods of practicing it may be employed empirically in the behavioural

sciences to enhance perception and awareness. These may range from spiritual

meditative interpretations to personal, interpersonal and professional leadership

applications. He speaks of paradigm clashes that may occur when comparing so-

called western and eastern traditions of mindfulness (Walsh,1980, p. 664). Tolle

(2005, p. 3) avoids spiritual dogma and language by referring to “the power of now”.

He refers to one’s true nature (being) as “the ever-present I am”. He advises one to

learn the ability to quiet the mind and become aware of one’s conscious presence, or

one’s deeper self.

When one enters this state, there is alertness that is elicited by a meditative state, but

with the added benefit of having the privilege of choosing the direction of one’s

thoughts, as well as choosing mindful responses, unencumbered by identification with

human conditioning. In my threefold delineation of mindfulness, I refer to this as

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consciousness. It may also be referred to as ‘presence’. Eckhart Tolle (2009)

describes the state of acceptance that accompanies all experiences from the following

perspective: “Life will give you whatever experience is most helpful for the evolution of

your consciousness. How do you know this is the experience you need? Because this

is the experience you are having at this moment” (p. 28).

6.3 INTRODUCING ECKHART TOLLE

Eckhart Tolle was born in 1948 in Germany. At the age of 29, after his first three

decades filled with hostility, unhappiness, fear and anxiety, he experienced a spiritual

transformation which he wrote about in his book, The Power of Now (Tolle, 2005).

I understood that the intense pressure of suffering that night must have forced

my consciousness to withdraw from its identification with the unhappy and

deeply fearful self, which is ultimately a fiction of the mind. This withdrawal

must have been so complete that this false, suffering self immediately

collapsed, just as if a plug had been pulled out of an inflatable toy. What was

left then was my true nature as the ever-present I am: consciousness in its

pure state prior to identification with form (p. 9).

Watkins Magazine (2011) listed Tolle as the most spiritually influential person in the

world. Tolle believes that spiritual awakening is attained by transcending ego-based

consciousness through mindful awareness. He engages with a broad range of credos,

texts and philosophies, such as Zen Buddhism, Sufism and Hinduism, as well as the

Tao Te Ching, the Bible, the Bhagavad Gita, Socrates, Plato and Krishnamurti, among

many others. His popularity has largely been ascribed to his powerful use of language,

combined with a humble, simple approach to sharing his teachings (Rafat, 2013). Tolle

may be criticised for being too ‘New Age’ and mixing philosophical tradition with

religion and pseudoscience, but he has also been recognised for his ability to rework,

synthesise and make understandable these traditions.

Tolle speaks about using meditation as a means to “step into no thought, a means to

access your own essence as consciousness” (Tolle, 2015). Meditation, for Tolle, is the

vehicle, not the destination. For him, the destination is about consciousness,

presence, ‘beingness’, or ‘no thought’. Tolle uses these terms interchangeably in his

books and lectures. When questioned about why he does not use the term

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‘mindfulness’, he laughingly replies that although mindfulness is the same as

presence, he does not like the term “mind full” (Tolle, 2015).

6.4 THE CONDITIONED MIND

The mind experiences the framework of ideas and beliefs through which we interpret

the world and interact with it (Smith, 2009a). Ruiz (1997) explains that we have

developed our cognitions through our perceptions of reality.

By using our attention, we learned a whole reality, a whole dream. We learned

how to behave in society: what to believe and what not to believe; what is

acceptable and what is not acceptable; what is good and what is bad; what is

beautiful and what is ugly; what is right and what is wrong. It was all there

already: all that knowledge, all those rules and concepts about how to behave

in the world (p. 3).

Tolle (2009) defines “conditioned mind” as encompassing what he calls “content” and

“structure”. The content is comprised of the conditioned thoughts and beliefs that are

crafted in one’s childhood, culture, education, and experiences. The structure

represents the conditioned way in which we identify with external constructs and

perceptions. This may be reflected by both personal (possessions, appearance,

resentments, being good or not good, successes, and failures) and collective

(nationality, race, religion, class, political affiliation) identity formation. This

identification with form, or external validation, Tolle refers to as ego. Ego may be seen

as the illusion of ownership and words and roles to which we give hypnotic labels, as

opposed to our essence, or presence. When ego is present, we are reactive; we have

grievances that are compulsive and repetitive; we have to be ‘right’, and we take things

personally. Under these circumstances, our story is one of being a victim – blaming

and holding grudges, – and our identity as a reflection of conditioned ego.

The Oxford dictionary (2017) defines ego in three ways:

• A person's sense of self-esteem or self-importance.

• Psychoanalysis: The part of the mind that mediates between the

conscious and the unconscious and is responsible for reality testing and

a sense of personal identity.

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• Philosophy: (in metaphysics) a conscious thinking subject.

All these definitions point to a self that is associated with external experiences, roles,

and things. According to Tolle (2005, p. 11), this is in contrast to the understanding

that “you are not your mind”.

6.5 TRANSCENDING THE EGO

Far from needing to look outwards for validation, Tolle (2005) says we may find

purpose and meaning from within:

Being is the eternal, ever-present One Life beyond the myriad forms of life that

are subject to birth and death. However, being is not only beyond but also

deep within every form as its innermost invisible and indestructible essence.

This means that it is accessible to you now as your own deepest self, your

true nature. But don't seek to grasp it with your mind. Don't try to understand

it. You can know it only when the mind is still. When you are present, when

your attention is fully and intensely in the Now, Being can be felt, but it can

never be understood mentally. To regain awareness of Being and to abide in

that state of ‘feeling realization’ is enlightenment (p. 10).

Walsh and Shapiro (2006) link the state of mindfulness firstly to a process of refined

awareness, and secondly to a separation from our thoughts, observations, emotions,

and beliefs. This, in turn, leads to an ability to experience the world in a completely

calm and imperturbable manner, eloquently described by the term “transcendental

consciousness” (Walsh & Shapiro, 2006, p. 6). Tolle (2005) refers to it as the wisdom

shared by Buddha, Jesus, Hinduism, and Lao Tzu (Bloem, 2012). This consciousness

vibrates at a higher frequency than the unconscious and subconscious minds, which

he sees as transcendence over physical and psychological form (Tolle, 2009).

Other transpersonal (beyond identity) experiences that manifest as result of a

mindfulness state include:

• Maslow’s peak experiences “rare, exciting, oceanic, deeply moving,

exhilarating, elevating experiences that generate an advanced form of

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perceiving reality and are even mystic and magical in their effect upon

the experimenter” (Corsini, 1998, p. 21).

• Jungian numinous experiences are unusual, ecstatic or heightened

modes of psychological awareness, a power greater than oneself within

oneself (Martinez, 2011; Stevens, 1991).

• Engagement, described in neuroscience research as a balanced brain–

body state which is focused, effortless, joyful and being in flow (Rock &

Tang, 2009).

• Flow, a positive psychological state that refers to the experience of being

unselfconsciously immersed in the sensations of an experience

(Csikszentmihalyi, 1990).

All these experiences may emerge from meditative practices or through focused

attention and effort. The common theme seems to be that in mindful consciousness,

experiences are accompanied by feelings of transcendence, where people feel at one

with their surroundings and experience a sense of “universal harmony”

(Csikszentmihalyi, 1993, p. xiv). “The best moments usually occur when a person’s

body or mind is stretched to its limits in a voluntary effort to accomplish something

difficult and worthwhile. Optimal experience is thus something we make happen”

(Csikszentmihalyi, 1990, p. 3).

6.6 BEYOND EGO: THE NOTION OF ‘I’ AND CONSCIOUSNESS

Wilber (2007, p. 68) describes consciousness as “the space in which phenomena

arrive”, not as a thing or content or a phenomenon. In this space, there is no

identification with thoughts. A person’s essence is beyond ego and mental

identification; a “beingness”, a sense of consciousness that transcends an illusory

identity based on form and structure (Tolle, 2009).

From a psychodynamic perspective, Freud (1949) describes adaptive and healthy life

fulfilment as being when the unconscious becomes conscious. For Freud, the self is

closely linked to the early stages of development like sexual awareness, toilet training

and breastfeeding. Other personality theories describe the concept of self as

awareness of ourselves in response to our phenomenological world and our subjective

experiences and determines the way our personality integrates and functions (Barlow

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& Durand, 1995; Cash, 2011; Mayer & Salovey, 1990). For psychologists,

consciousness of self is an important concept for understanding human behaviour, as

opposed to unconscious drives that determine our definition of self (Pervin, 1989).

Wallace and Goldstein (1997), define consciousness as being an existing state of

focus on external and internal stimuli and that may trigger a psychological response.

These conceptualisations assume that our state of being is determined by external

forces.

Carl Rogers’ key concept of self, too, is a result of the perceptions and meanings in

the individual’s phenomenal field that make self, or “I” (Pervin, 1989). These ideas of

self – linked to a value connotation – parallel the illusory self that Tolle (2005) speaks

about when he describes the mind being conditioned through collective and personal

experiences. Tolle argues that when we hold onto this unconscious ego identity, we

take everything personally, and create an identity based on external opinion and

perspectives. This is eloquently articulated by the Irish poet and playwright, Oscar

Wilde, when he says, “Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone

else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation”. (Wilde & Zick, 1909,

p. 382).

The Anata, or ‘no self’ became the central teaching of the Buddha and is reflected in

Tolle’s belief: “spiritual realization is to see clearly that what I perceive, experience,

think, or feel is ultimately not who I am, that I cannot find myself in all those things that

continuously pass away” (Tolle, 2009, p. 8). Kornfield (2009) discusses the Buddhist

concept of non-self and comments that our very sense of self is untrue and that our

body, feelings and personality are, at best, tentative.

How do we achieve this spiritual realisation, or enlightenment? By disentangling our

identification with form and structure through consciousness, or awareness. We

become aware of an inner space that we experience as a stillness and inner peace

deep within us. This awareness can only occur when we live in the present. When we

are lost in the narrative in our head about the past (regrets, recriminations, and guilt)

and the future (worry, anxiety, and fear), we are unconscious. In the present moment

there is no judgement, merely observation. This present-moment awareness, Tolle

(2009) says, is the secret to the achievement of happiness.

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You belong to this moment, this breath You are whole and also part of larger and larger circles of wholeness

You may not even know about.

You are never alone.

And you already belong.

You belong to humanity.

You belong to life.

You belong to this moment, this breath (Kabat-Zinn, 2012, p. 64).

6.7 SUMMARY

In this chapter I added the third dimension to the mindfulness construct. The idea of

consciousness, primarily based on the work of Eckhart Tolle, describes the art of living

without ego identity and in the present. It is seen as a means of achieving an

enlightened and peaceful state of being. This is not a natural state for a mind that is

wrapped in conditioned thinking and beliefs; it takes continuous effort, commitment,

and discipline. In the next section, I share my narrative which describes how I have

engaged with all three dimensions of mindfulness as I emerge from an identity clouded

with low self-worth and inertia, to achieve one of my greatest life dreams: to do a

presentation at a TEDx conference and to live a life of purpose, passion, and power –

as a mindful warrior.

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SECTION 3: THE NARRATIVE

Chapter 7, in section 3 is constructed in the same way that the spokes of a wheel are

supported by the rims. The spokes are the critical events in my life that will make up

my autoethnography. I introduce my story by sharing a life experience on my journey

from a worrier to a warrior of the mind. The narrative is then crafted chronologically as

I revisit powerful and traumatic life experiences that created my learning and personal

growth.

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CHAPTER 7

FROM WORRIER TO WARRIOR

7.1 INTRODUCTION

It is Sunday morning, 20 September 2015. Standing in the waiting room, the clock on

the wall shows that the time is 11:34. I am about to present my TEDx talk; my heart is

beating wildly in my chest, it is time for me to share my life story. I draw a deep breath

and move out of the waiting room and onto the stage in Gachibowli, Hyderabad, in

India.

For the next eighteen minutes, standing on a big red dot that demarcates the limits to

which I may venture on the stage, I reveal how I changed from an insecure and

overweight person with no direction. I begin my story with the birth of my son. As I talk,

my nerves start to calm. I look into the auditorium and feel a connection to the 500

people who are listening attentively. I tell the tragic story of my brother’s life and how

I discover that my son, when he is five years old, is permanently and irreparably brain

damaged. These events led to a decision to change my dysfunctional life trajectory. I

share my academic, career and athletic adventures, while all the time wrestling with

life’s challenges.

Eventually I step out of the big red dot.

I bend forward facing the audience; my hands pressed together – palm to palm – a

traditional gesture of humility and gratitude that I have adopted through my years of

travelling through Nepal, Malaysia and India. There is a moment of silence; it feels as

though the breath has been sucked from the auditorium and I am slowly awakening

from a dream. From a great distance I hear a slow, staccato sound. The lights and the

faces begin to penetrate my consciousness, and my throat constricts as the audience

rise to their feet to recognise my life journey with a standing ovation. I walk off the

stage, bewildered, trance-like into the safety of the empty waiting area, the Green

Room. Emotion assaults me in waves, and I choke on my sobs and the laughter that

surface from a deep place in my body. Relief floods me, and I clutch my hand to my

heart as I hear the audience show their appreciation for my life journey.

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I use my TEDX talk as inspiration for the narrative I weave in this thesis. The 18

minutes of my story, told while standing on the big red dot, are the rim of the wheel

that hold the spokes of my story together and provide the context. The spokes of my

life are combined into a journey, showing how I move slowly through the life

experiences that have shaped me from worrier to warrior.

7.2 LIVING AS A WORRIER

Mine is not a remarkable life; at most it is worthy of a mention in a magazine article.

As I reflect, I see that somehow, I have transitioned from a gawky teenager to a

confident business owner, PhD candidate and TEDx speaker. How did this happen? I

wonder, as my story receives a standing ovation from a 500-plus audience. Now, as I

write about my life experiences which are the subject of this study, I try to make sense

of this transition and uncover the links in the journey from mindless uncertainty to

mindful conviction. The first spoke of my life wheel begins with my life as a young girl

growing up in apartheid16 South Africa.

7.2.1 The beginning

I was born to white upper-middle class parents on 3 February 1966 at the Marymount

Hospital17 on a ridge overlooking the city of Johannesburg. My mother describes me

as a fussy baby. According to her, she asked the nurse the morning after I was born:

“Who was that baby that cried the whole night?”. The nurse answered, “It was yours.”

I cried constantly, which in retrospect makes sense. I would have a lot to fuss about

later in my life.

My parents raised me in traditional British style: strict and autocratic, yet attentive. A

tranquil and enjoyable childhood is spent under a hot African sun, collecting

shongololas 18 on sand roads, unaware that I live in a suburb reserved for white people

only. I ride my red tricycle, trying desperately to keep up with my brother and his

friends. My parents care for me and are kind, but I am all too frequently admonished

16 Apartheid – a system of institutionalised racial segregation and discrimination prevailing in South

Africa between 1948 and 1991. 17 Marymount hospital – a well-known maternity hospital in the south of Johannesburg. 18 In Africa, millipedes are affectionately known as ‘shongololas’, from the word ukushonga which

means ‘to roll up’ as they do when threatened.

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and punished for my mischievousness and clumsiness. My childhood vibrates with

memories of pranks, mistakes and a constant feeling of bewilderment, as I grapple to

meet societal and parental expectations. I am aware that Martin, my brother, who is

two and a half years older, is the ‘good’ child. Dad’s nickname for Martin is ‘Laddie’.

Mine is ‘Collywobbles’. Mom never shortens our names until I am close to 40, when

she starts to call me ‘Col’.

Photograph 3: Martin, age 5 and me, age 3.

We live in a bubble of privilege and ignorance; unaware that there is inequality in our

country. Legislation separating black from white, providing white South Africans with

the advantages of a comfortable lifestyle while at the same time ensuring that we are

kept ignorant about the status quo through media propaganda. I attend a private all-

girls school, positioned on the outermost edge of an elitist education system, steeped

in British tradition and monetary ease, provided with superior schooling, and the

assurance of socialising with the ‘right’ kind of people.

My parents grew up in Springs, an industrial town to the east of Johannesburg, which,

few people know, is the largest single gold producing area in the world. My red-haired

dad is intelligent and confident, a combination that saw him rise above the poverty of

his mining family to become a successful chartered accountant and businessman. He

never forgot his debts to the brothers and sister who supported him as the only child

in the family to achieve a matric and a university degree. It is 1955, the days of 78

records, Chevrolets, petticoats and flared skirts. Dad’s feisty personality, competitive

spirit and determination ensures that he wins the girl he fancies and grows to love.

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Mom, the catch of the girl’s high school, is pretty, elegant and self-contained. She,

however, believes that she is not smart. She was 10 years old and living in Manchester

in England when, on 31 March 1949, her British parents, together with their children,

embarked on the long journey from Southampton to the land of gold and opportunity

to begin a new life in South Africa.

As the eldest of seven children, she is self-reliant and responsible. Younger than her

school peers, she lacks confidence in her intellectual abilities. Much later, in her early

forties, she is able to realise her potential and, finally, begin to enjoy the success she

is capable of.

Dad and Mom marry young and start a life together. Dad, the dominant, successful

breadwinner, and Mom, the elegant, capable homemaker. Martin and I, a pigeon pair,

are produced, and we move to the affluent northern suburbs of Johannesburg. The

Lightbody family is all set to conform to the stereotypically perfect, happy family –

aided by the advantages of white middle-class privilege. To be a part of this ‘perfect’

family, I feel the need to win my parents’ approval, which is tough because I am, by

nature, awkward, irresponsible and mischievous.

My adolescence years

A severe case of acne erupts as a turbulent adolescence arrives. Overweight,

unattractive and unlovable with my misery evident for all to see, high school is a

paradoxical dance of joy and achievement contrasted with low self-esteem and

insecurity. My wretchedness lies in a desperate desire to fit in with my peers and be

part of the in-crowd but, alas, always feeling like an outsider. This becomes a lifelong

struggle for me; the inability to be a part of a group.

In form five, the last year of primary school, I decide one morning, in my

characteristically foolhardy way to venture up to the pretty popular girls. They giggle

and whisper behind adorable, manicured hands, knowing they are there for the world

to admire. I try to understand the rules of engagement of this fashionable clique, but

they are bewildering and strange. They suggest I let them push me on the swing and

I feel I am at last being accepted into their glamorous circle. Alas, the swing is old, and

as I am pushed higher and higher, the rusted chains snap, and my body hurtles into

space. They collapse with glee. I realise that I don't have whatever it takes to fit in and

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be liked. The popular girls are all invited to Jennifer’s ice-skating party that weekend.

I am not. I wouldn't have gone anyway because my pimples and my newly scraped

knees and elbows make me feel like a freak.

Simple friendship with other outcasts ensures I have company, and the occasional

teacher is kind to me, but I am always on the periphery of the in-crowd. Uncomfortable

in my skin, I am constantly tripping and grazing my knees, breaking my left wrist while

racing in a school sports day; and the other one while exploring some hidden,

imaginary forest. The calamities stack up; concussion after falling off a wall, and

another following a tumble down the stairs of the hostel, which lands me in hospital

with an enormous haematoma colouring my backside. I lose my belongings and say

the wrong things at the wrong time. I stumble, giggle and make social gaffes from the

beginning to the end of my school years. My pain is not only physical but is in my heart

as well. All the time I desperately want to be part of the beautiful, smart, self-assured

group of girls who wear make-up and date good-looking boys. The problem is I just

can’t resist the urge to let off stink-bombs in the classroom and pass notes to my

equally awkward friends in the back row. All of this is frowned on at this elite school

for refined young ladies.

At fifteen, after reading every single one of Enid Blyton’s Malory Towers and The Twins

of St Clare’s, I am ecstatically happy when my parents offer me the opportunity to go

to boarding school. Not only would I not be getting into trouble at home because I am

so untidy and irresponsible, I would also have a place to exhaust my boundless

energy. I spend many happy hours hitting tennis balls against the wall of the tennis

court and gossiping with my boarding-school friends, who mostly seemed to live on

the fringes of the in-group like myself.

During the eighties, many girls were sent to upmarket schools with boarding facilities

because their parents lived in other African countries like Malawi and Kenya, or

because their home environments were dysfunctional. We band together, tucking the

little girls from Grade 1 into bed when they cry for their parents at night and putting

money from the tooth fairy into their slippers when a baby tooth falls out.

One night, my dorm mates and I discover that the dormitory floor is smooth enough

for some exhilarating fun on our makeshift toboggans. After lights out, we slip and

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slide along the floor, laughing until the scary matron, who we thought liked her brandy

a little too much, comes stomping in with a red face, incandescent with rage. “You

horrible little girls. Come with me!”

We are marched off and locked up in the laundry room for what seems like hours

among the white sheets and pillowcases that move creepily in the night breeze.

Convinced that Vera, the school ghost, is real. Sally, my roommate, and I, in our

privileged two-bed-matrics-only room, propel ourselves into ecstatic terror at night.

“Col, she touched my head!”

“Me too – I think she is sitting at the bottom of my bed!”. We shriek and laugh and

sleep with the lights switched on.

Despite the giddy fun I have with my boarding school mates, I still long to be pretty,

smart and dignified. I labour reluctantly through academic tasks, never achieving much

more than average grades, often failing exams. Boarding school food and low self-

esteem combine to help me get fatter and fatter as I comfort myself with oily, stodgy

meals three times a day.

Saved from utter misery by my relentlessly ebullient nature and a strong sporting

aptitude, I grab every opportunity – the geography and wildlife clubs, the choir and

orchestra, calligraphy, looking after the little kids in the boarding house, being on the

chapel committee and taking my small part in every school production. Desperately

trying to win not only my peers’ but also my parents’ approval, I play every possible

sport, even trying repeatedly to get into the swimming team, although I never quite

achieve that. Luckily, I excel at ball sports, so the tennis, hockey and netball teams

are easily within my grasp.

Revisiting my school

In 2013, thirty years after I matriculated, I visit my school with a friend who is visiting

South Africa from her home in the United States. She is still beautiful and was the

most popular girl in my class. As we arrive at school, I feel the melancholic atmosphere

of the quadrangle, the oppressive expectations of the school hall, the green and white

comfort of the tennis courts. Transported back to my teen years where I would wander

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between the contradictory uncertainty of friendship and the excitement of being

selected for a team. Memories flit through my mind; sad as I remember that young girl

trying to fit in but never quite managing it ...

My friend and I sit together on the cold stairs of the school chapel ambling through our

memories. She is aghast that I considered her the pretty, popular and happy one at

school.

“I was not beautiful. I was in pain,” she says. She tells me about the pain she felt

because she was keeping family secrets and pretending to be perfect.

I reflect on her pain and compare it to how I felt, humiliated by my awkwardness and

wayward nature.

“I know,” I say, “I feel like I could never match up to what my parents expected. I was

never good enough, or cool enough, or pretty enough at school.”

That pain was possibly felt by so many of us in our knee-length skirts, brown socks,

compulsory green blazers and hideous brown-felt pillbox hats.

The ordinary world of my childhood and adolescence was a roller coaster, alternating

between happy schoolgirl exploits and miserable uncertainty. I, by turns, loved my

busy life and felt constant anguish at the need to fit in.

After I matriculated, astounding myself with good marks in the final exam, I hauled the

pain from school all the way to the University of Cape Town. I resonate with the

description of the “Long Bag”, described by Robert Bly (Bly & Booth 1988, pp. 17–18).

The Long Bag We Drag Behind Us – Robert Bly

It’s an old Gnostic tradition that we don’t invent things, we just remember. The

Europeans I know of who remember the dark side best are Robert Louis Stevenson,

Joseph Conrad, and Carl Jung. I’ll call up a few of their ideas and add a few thoughts

of my own.

Let’s talk about the personal shadow first. When we were one or two years old, we

had what we might visualize as a 360-degree personality. Energy radiated from all

parts of our body and all parts of our psyche. A child running is a living globe of energy.

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We had a ball of energy, all right; but one day we noticed that our parents didn’t like

certain parts of that ball. They said things like: “Can’t you be still?” Or “It isn’t nice to

try and kill your brother.” Behind us we have an invisible bag, and the part of us our

parents don’t like, we, to keep our parents’ love, put in the bag. By the time we go to

school our bag is quite large. Then our teachers have their say: “Good children don’t

get angry over such little things.” So, we take our anger and put it in the bag. By the

time my brother and I were twelve in Madison, Minnesota we were known as “the nice

Bly boys.” Our bags were already a mile long.

Then we do a lot of bag-stuffing in high school. This time it’s no longer the evil

grownups that pressure us, but people our own age. So, the student’s paranoia about

grownups can be misplaced. I lied all through high school automatically to try to be

more like the basketball players. Any part of myself that was a little slow went into the

bag. My sons are going through the process now; I watched my daughters, who were

older, experience it. I noticed with dismay how much they put into the bag, but there

was nothing their mother or I could do about it. Often my daughters seemed to make

their decision on the issue of fashion and collective ideas of beauty, and they suffered

as much damage from other girls as they did from men.

Making sense of Martin’s disappearance

The first time my brother disappears is deep in the winter of my final year of school.

The second time, eleven years later, the day he disappears forever, is also cold and

frosty. On both occasions, we lose him to the wilderness – the environment where he

was happiest and most at ease. Growing up, adjectives like ‘stable, smart, and

sensible’ accurately describe him. I do ‘giddy’ and ‘messy’ commendably well. Little

did I know that our roles are about to flip-flop as I childishly craft out mischief in my

dormitory in Johannesburg.

I weave the narrative of Martin’s story, of life, loss, retrieval, illness and survival,

through my naive eyes during this time. This is my story, told from the perspective of

a self-conscious and confused teenager writing her matric exams, and then a wiser,

tougher fifty-something woman. I recall the stories told by my father, my stepdad and

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by Martin himself; unfortunately, these stories are not enough to really know what

happened to Martin when he disappeared on the plains of the African Savannah.

Fraught with disquiet and completely out of character, I consult a spirit medium, a

Shaman, many years after my brothers’ death, in the hope that I can find some

meaning for his life. She tells me that Martin’s work in the ‘afterlife’ is to guide our

planet to ensure the preservation of the natural world. I long to believe in that kind of

stuff. It soothes me in a vague existential way, as I can imagine Martin being an angel

of conservation. It fits exactly with what I believe, and hope, was the purpose of

Martin’s life. His life; interrupted in the wilderness at age 19, ends in the wilderness at

age 30.

Martin goes missing

Martin is 19 when he goes missing. It is my final year of school. On a cold, windy

August weekend, I happily stay at boarding school because I can play tennis and

pretend to revise for my preliminary matriculation exams. I tell my parents that I will be

less distracted at school. This is my excuse; in reality, I feel safe in the strange kinship

I have with the few other misfits who also spend weekends at the school. Their parents

live mostly in other countries and they also feel at home tobogganing in dormitories

and collecting shongololas. We tell ghost stories, while wrapped in starched white

sheets, hit hockey and tennis balls and eat thickly buttered Marmite toast for breakfast;

occasionally, we sit in our studies pretending to work.

At 10 a.m., the bell for the tea break interrupts our half-hearted attempt to prepare for

the exams. The brittle winter air snaps as I walk out of my study. I step into the corridor

leading to the quadrangle where the tea is always set out and see my mother. How

strange? Confused, I try to realign my thoughts from peanut-butter and jam

sandwiches to seeing Mom at school on a weekend. It makes no sense, and I move

towards her uncertainly. The Norfolk Island pines juxtapose starkly against a cobalt

blue winter sky. The feeble warmth of the sun penetrates my dreamlike state as I

register the bleak look on Mom’s face. I notice her red eyes. She has been crying? My

world feels surreal, as if it has been placed on hold, or dislocated. I cannot come to

grips with this moment. Standing behind Mom is a family friend, Ian (who would later

become my stepdad), and the scary headmistress. Mom’s words drift out of her mouth

into the air, a collection of sounds – unhurried, floating. They assemble themselves

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into sentences that carry the same dreamlike unreality of the sensations that crawl

through my body. As my mind catches up, I unravel the meaning of Mom’s presence,

and the news she has come to deliver.

“Colleen,” she says, “Martin, is missing in the Savuti.”

I learn that my brother has disappeared from the camp in the Okavango Swamps19 in

the middle of one of the most severe droughts in the history of Botswana.

Somehow, I climb into the car. The bright orange hair of the scary headmistress

becomes the topic of conversation as we drive. It is too difficult to talk about the reason

we are driving home on a Saturday afternoon, our hearts as bleak as the winter sky

above us. Later, once we are home and sipping ‘a nice hot cup of tea’ (Mom’s remedy

for all illness, catastrophe, or worry), she relays the story. The night before, she

opened the door of our home in Morningside to find my father, white-faced and

shaking. He can hardly speak but manages to tell her the reason for his unexpected

return. The next morning, he flies straight back to the African bush to find my brother

and Mom drives to my school. Mom, with her iron-willed British demeanour is

determinedly composed.

My dad’s, Ian’s and Martin’s are the eyes through which I eventually learn what

happened that winter in the Savuti.

My father loves to travel, a passion not shared to the same degree by Mom. Whenever

possible, he takes Martin and me on his trips. This time it is the middle of Martin’s

second year at university and dad decides to surprise him with a trip to the Okavango

Swamps, and they embark on an African safari. All of dad’s interests, as well as his

intelligence and strong moral values, he shares with my brother. The marked

difference between them is my dad’s volatile temper, contrasted with Martin’s much

milder temperament. I share some of the volatility, but my dad intimidates me.

Dad is an adventurer, as well as a passionate conservationist, photographer, hiker

and wildlife enthusiast. His hobbies ensure firm friendships in well-known wildlife and

photographic circles with people like Ian and Oria Douglas Hamilton, Iain Player, Clive

Walker and many others. One iconic character of the African bush, Lloyd Wilmot,

19 Okavango Swamps – a nature reserve teeming with wildlife in Botswana.

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spends many evenings regaling my family with his outrageous exploits – sneaking up

on lions undetected, facing raging bull elephants and surviving plane crashes in

remote deserts. He owns a bush camp in the Savuti20 called Lloyd’s Camp.

Dad’s face is sombre when he later tells me what happened before Martin’s

disappearance.

“We caught a flight to Maun in Botswana and Lloyd collected us, you know, like he

always does. From the commercial flight, we got into his tiny plane and flew to his

camp. It is deep in the bush, really in the heart of Africa.”

The camp is a combination of a tented camp for tourists and Lloyd’s family residence

– a mud building with no glass in the windows. As the sun rose the next morning in

the Savuti, the tourists prepared for the early morning game drive. Dad, harbouring a

concern that Martin had not been himself, reluctantly allowed my brother to stay behind

to sleep in.

In the years following Martin’s disappearance, whenever my dad is relaxed enough to

talk about what happened (usually after a whisky or a glass of wine), or when Ian

shares, I listen avidly and afterward immediately write what they say in my journal. I

never push them, and they only manage to discuss it once or twice a year. My Mom

won’t discuss it at all; it is just too difficult for her to talk about that time.

Dad constantly and obsessively frowns, even years later, as he tries to find

explanations for why Martin did not want to go with them on that drive.

“Perhaps he had sunstroke? Maybe he was depressed? I remember him being overly

sensitive to the opinions and attitudes of a group of ‘manly men’ that were showing off

around the campfire the night before.”

Whatever the reason; in August 1983, Martin walked from the protection of the camp

into the African wilderness. He is missing from the world for five days. In some ways,

I think he never really came back. When Martin is found, our lives and roles are

fundamentally and irrevocably transposed. Martin now becomes the designated

20 Savuti – a game reserve in Botswana that boasts one of the highest concentrations of wildlife in

Southern Africa and is particularly well known for its predators.

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‘problem’. I earnestly try to become the stable one. I begin to try on the role of

responsible first child in that moment, after having always inhabited a naughty second

child identity.

Martin did not talk a lot about what had happened to him. A few seemingly

hallucinogenic stories gave me a taste of the muddled and traumatic

headspace/physical space he must have lived in through those five days.

“There were hyenas sitting under a tree that I had climbed up in the evening to feel

safe. I sat there the whole night, up that tree. They didn’t even pay me attention, but

they wouldn’t leave. I was exhausted when they eventually slunk away at dawn.”

There was a staring lion, but what was real and what was delusion? When he was

found, Martin was wearing a pair of black rugby shorts – nothing else. He had lost

(discarded?) his watch, his shirt and his shoes. He lived for five days without food or

water in god-forsaken, drought-ridden Africa, wearing only a pair of shorts.

Introverted and private, the drama and attention surrounding his disappearance,

seems to embarrass Martin and he rarely speaks about what happened. My family

don’t speak about difficult things. We put on our ‘happy family’ faces to the world and

to each other. I try to make sense of Dad’s and Martin’s and Ian’s memories as they

share their stories of that terrible time.

Martin’s memories

Martin slept at the top of a tree for hours through the dark night. The hyenas lay

beneath him, patient, watching. As the dawn revealed a barely discernible visibility,

they slunk away to gorge on discarded carcasses scavenged from other predators. A

vulture circled overhead.

One of the reasons Lloyd eventually finds him is because he spots the vultures lazily

spiralling downwards as Martin begins to weaken.

My brother tells me a bizarre, yet compelling tale about a night with a lion. He lay

beneath a tree, the trunk solidly behind his back when a lone male lion appears about

50 metres away. A long, terrible night ensued with this lion for company.

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“Col, if I looked at the lion, into the lion’s eyes, he stayed in one place. Didn't move.

But I was exhausted. My eyes would begin to close and Col, the lion would creep

forward, closer and closer and closer to me.”

Martin played a desperate game of outstaring this terrifying beast. Outstaring the lion

in exchange for his life. A story too bizarre to be true, Martin always admitted; however,

in his experience it happened, therefore truth becomes superfluous!

Dad’s story

Dad and Martin had embarked on a father-son bonding experience. Now Dad faced

traumatic, imaginable uncertainty and fear. A subdued Martin had expressed some

distress around the campfire the night before. “The others are mocking me; they are

laughing at me.” Unusually, Martin seemed over-sensitive, interpreting ribald, slightly

inebriated humour as personal slights. Dad reassured him and the next morning, as

planned, the group left the camp for a sunrise game drive. Martin begged off, claiming

that he felt sick.

Dad thought Martin might have sunstroke because of the sunburn from the previous

day’s game drive, so he told him to rest at the camp, and he would see him later when

they got back from the drive. He had no idea an unimaginable ordeal was about to

begin. When the group returned to camp, Dad walked into their khaki canvas tent to

check on his son. Martin was not there. Dad started to walk through the camp calling

for his name. His sense of unease grew as others in the camp started to show concern.

Soon, a pervasive panic took hold. The word spread that one of the guests, a 19-year-

old, was missing. Dad took charge, his heart beating as he began to shout and direct,

but then wisely turned to those who understood this environment. He helped to

organise, to lead and to follow. Only a father has access to the most unimaginable

horror that lurked at the back of his mind. Was Martin alive?

The wheels of crisis management began to turn. Rescue forces were mobilised as

soon as the critical situation became obvious. Alerted, the Botswana paramilitary

prepare to fly in defined grids over the area within hours after the discovery of his

disappearance. We found out later that the authorities were afraid that my brother had

been kidnapped. Lloyd stepped into his nimble little plane and began daring, swooping

recces into the bush.

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Late into the night for years after, Dad recalled heart-wrenching stories of walking for

hours in the bush with rangers and Bushmen trackers as protection and support.

Calling Martin by his pet name, ‘Laddie’, and by their dad/son whistle, he came face

to face with a herd of African elephant. Dad’s heart pounded as he trod cautiously,

deliberately, not wanting to attract attention. A noise to his left alerted him to a massive

bull elephant flapping its ears furiously. He looked back and saw the bushman trackers

disappear into the distance ahead of him – along with their protective guns! We laugh

about that when we can laugh again.

Ian’s Story

Eleven years later I eventually speak to my stepfather about the story of Savuti. Ian,

Dad’s best friend at the time, shares his memories. Mom still finds it too hard and too

sad to talk about those traumatic days.

Ian tells me that after coming to fetch me at boarding school with my mom, he and

another family friend, John Perkins, got into Ian’s Mercedes Benz to drive to

Gaborone. They chartered an airplane and flew to Lloyd’s Camp to join in the search

for my brother. Before they landed at the camp, the pilot told them to look out for scraps

of white cloth. A white t-shirt that Martin was wearing would possibly be visible. Scraps,

because that is all the scavengers of the bush would have left. The word was now out

that it was unlikely the boy was still alive.

While Ian and John travelled north, and Dad criss-crossed the savannah with the

trackers, Lloyd, in his bush plane, was astounded to glimpse a small, lonely figure

waving a white shirt. He realised it was impossible to land the aircraft, but he did. Lloyd

is like that. Later, Ian notices damage to the wing of the aircraft, where the branch of

a tree the size of his forearm had caught it as he landed.

The plane jolted and bounced over the rutted earth, finally coming to a stop. Lloyd

jumped out and walked to Martin, calling his name reassuringly. They had been

warned that if they found him, they must approach him carefully. After many days in a

drought-ridden landscape, with scorching temperatures and little sustenance, Martin

would be likely to panic and run off if confronted.

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The vultures circled overhead, unconcerned. A confused and scared boy stepped

hesitantly toward Lloyd allowing him to guide his weary, weakened body towards the

plane. He was 19 years old. After surviving the African wilderness, he climbed

uncertainly into the small craft. Lloyd landed the plane at the camp, but Martin mutely

refused to get out of the plane. Dad got in, unsure of what to do or say, his heart

breaking at the sight of his vulnerable son. By leveraging a red-tape miracle, Lloyd

managed to get permission for Martin to travel straight to Johannesburg, bypassing

Botswana red tape – using the severe psychological trauma as motivation for

compassionate negotiation and flying straight to Lanseria airport.

Fetching Martin from the airport

I drive with Mom to Lanseria Airport to collect Martin. Lanseria is a small local airfield,

a new aviation alternative in 1993, where private light aircraft from within South Africa

are permitted to land. It is not open to international flights and has no passport control.

It strikes me as significant that the laws of the country are being manipulated to bring

my brother home. The officials treat us with respect and kindness, they have heard

about the circumstances of the rescue flight. Whisked through ‘officialdom’, Martin and

Dad are soon wrapped in our arms and safe in the warmth of Mom’s car. I climb in the

back with Martin. An awkward 17-year-old sister, not knowing what to say to her

brother sitting a heartbeat and a million miles away. He was never again the same

brother who had left Johannesburg the week before. That moment I transitioned from

the irresponsible, giddy little sister to become concerned and vigilant of Martin – for

the rest of our lives together.

A long time afterwards, late at night when we talk, Martin recalls that as he sat there

on the reassuring leather seats of the family vehicle, he thought he had died, that his

soul had left his body, and none of us had realised. He told me that he watched us:

Mom, Dad and me. He felt sad for the boy he had been and for the grief we would

experience when we discovered he wasn’t alive.

Now, 24 years after Martin, finally, did step off ‘this mortal coil’, I wonder if this wasn’t

a metaphorical premonition of how the ‘old’ Martin never came back to us again. But

for now, in 1983, we celebrate his survival.

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7.3 NEGOTIATING INSTABILITY AND INTIMACY

7.3.1 My brother is back

The night Martin arrives home is the night that our family’s roles turn inside out. Mom

sleeps in his room. I think this is most peculiar. The next day I am taken back to

boarding school and Martin is given medical treatment for his dehydration and

sunburn. Somehow, everyone forgets to take care of his heart and his mind and his

spirit. And we forget to take care of ours.

A family holiday with Martin

In December that year, after my matriculation exams, our family of four go on a skiing

holiday to Austria. Beforehand, skiing lessons on a carpeted slope in a Johannesburg

shopping centre prove that it is only Martin who can really ski. In Austria he is a

daredevil, swooping confidently down the blue slopes, even venturing onto advanced

‘black’ slopes, while Dad, and I slide gingerly down beginner ‘green’ ones. Long,

invigorating cross-country ski walks called ‘langlaagte’, are Mom’s preference.

Twenty years old and suddenly, mysteriously transformed from quiet and introverted

into a gregarious, fun-loving older sibling, Martin is allowed to take me out with the

other youngsters in the skiing village of Neustift. We dance at discos and drink

Gluwein.21 He flirts with a pretty German girl called Elke and tells funny stories. We sit

at bars and ride in sleighs, jingling with bells, while Martin, completely

uncharacteristically, entertains groups of strangers with outrageously dirty jokes. He

says the word ‘fuck’ a lot. I am thrilled. One night we toboggan down a terrifyingly high

mountain in the dark. I scream in terror and Martin confidently steers a crazy path to

get us to the bottom. Our exploits, while not devious, feel tantalisingly rebellious and

we keep them a secret from our sensible parents. Excited at the prospect of beginning

my new life alongside this vibrant brother at the University of Cape Town, we continue

the fun on the flight home. I could not have imagined that what was exhilarating soon

became horribly frightening.

21 Gluwein – hot mulled wine.

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7.3.2 My brother is BAD

When Martin matriculated and went to university, he had made an interesting group of

friends in the hiking and wildlife fraternity. Wise and calm, my brother always provided

sensible advice when I was flustered, a rock for me to rest on before I went flitting off

on my next dizzy pursuit. Now adding fun and intensity to his personality repertoire,

we head off to varsity together and I meet his friends. Looking back at this time I did

not realise what the problem was, that fun and intensity were symptoms of something

seriously amiss.

As his behaviour becomes wilder and more intense, my parents begin to realise that

something is profoundly wrong. He spends recklessly on Dad’s credit cards, buying

expensive items and giving them away. He stays out late, starts smoking and drinking,

stops going to lectures, and scares the sensible and conservative friends with the risks

he takes during their scuba diving and mountaineering excursions. Soon, he is

spinning out of control and Dad flies to Cape Town. Martin is hospitalised at a private

clinic.

In 1983, six months after Martin’s survival in the wilderness, my brother is handed his

life sentence in a quiet doctor’s room, in an elegant, leafy suburb of Cape Town. The

psychiatrist soberly pronounces his diagnosis: “Martin has a mental illness, Type 1

Bipolar Affective Disorder.” Perhaps prophetically, I label the disease by its acronym,

BAD. Bringing my brother and BAD into one sentence is a most profound paradox for

me. The ‘good’ child, Martin did nothing wrong, always responsible, sensible, smart

and introverted. I occupy the role of misfit – awkward, naughty, inappropriate, with little

emotional regulation or wisdom in social contexts.

We enter a new reality reverberating with strong pharmaceuticals and medical

supervision. The next few years become a roller coaster ride as Martin swings from

psychotic manic highs to dark and deep depressions, interspersed with some ‘normal’

periods. During the bad times I hold my breath hoping that Martin will once again

become my reliable, sensible older brother.

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Skydiving

One day in my first year of varsity, I decide to try skydiving. After a one-day course of

instruction, a small aircraft carries five nervous students above the vineyards and

mountains of Stellenbosch. Tied to a static line that automatically releases the

parachute, I close my eyes and step out of the plane. The parachute engages; I open

my eyes and gasp at the beauty of the silence and the view below me. A surreal sense

of peace and wonder replaces the heart-thumping adrenalin surge of the leap into

empty space. Soon enough, I discover that my parachute handling skills are not yet

refined enough to prevent me from landing in a tree. My brother carries me up flights

of stairs at Groote Schuur Hospital to have my broken ankle bandaged. He shakes his

head, admonishing me for my foolhardiness, while reassuring me that he won’t tell our

parents.

Photograph 3: My family

Although Martin went missing and was diagnosed with a severe mental illness soon

after, he was always, until his death, a kind and wise older brother. Sometimes I think

about the pain I felt of never feeling ‘good enough’, experienced through physical and

social awkwardness. A less damaging ordeal than he had to endure. Being handed

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the sentence of a severe mental disorder, rendering him unable to manage his world,

splintered Martin psychologically. He internalised the pain of trying to be perfect and

responsible and, driven by a traumatic event with the help of serious brain chemistry

dysfunction, it became too much, and he became psychotic.

Martin ‘raging’

Sometimes the episodes of mania in Type 1 Bipolar are so severe that some experts

refer to it as ‘raging bipolar’. Martin raged. A few months later, while at home on holiday

from university, Martin is arrested at Jan Smuts Airport.22

In the middle of the night, Dad receives a phone call. (Those midnight phone calls

became a common occurrence through the early years of Martin’s illness.)

“Is this Mr Lightbody?”

“Yes … Who is this?”

“My name is Sergeant Du Toit. I have your son in custody. He has just tried to hijack

an aeroplane. You had better get here as soon as possible.”

Dad wakes me, and we head out to face this next calamity. Mom holds the fort at

home. An efficient crisis management team is emerging as our default response.

Late in the night, Martin sneaked onto the runway at the airport and climbed aboard a

737 in a deluded belief that he could fly the plane to Germany to meet Elke, the girl he

had met and developed a crush on during our dizzy revelry in Neustift. The airport

police arrest him as he steps into the cockpit of the plane and take him in handcuffs to

security.

The police decide not to charge him and release him into the safe custody of his father

and flabbergasted sister. I am sure that Martin’s humour and the obviousness of his

mental instability had encouraged the officials to allow his family to take over rather

than to start criminal proceedings. My brother’s airport raid was preceded, we

discovered later, by an inexplicable attempt to hitchhike using the bizarre strategy of

lying in the middle of the M1 highway to attract attention. A stranger calls my dad the

22 Jan Smuts Airport was renamed OR Tambo International Airport after the change of government

in 1994.

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following day to say that, as he was driving along the highway late in the evening, he

had been shocked to see the body of a man lying on the highway and waving!

Remarkably, he stopped his car and when Martin cheerfully bounced up and

requested a lift to the airport, the man decided to help out. One of the recurring patterns

of Martin’s periods of mania was the unbelievable, naïve kindness of the people he

accosted through his misadventures.

I remember one vacation when Martin was ‘raging’, and we needed to get him

hospitalised. We were immobilised, caught in the bureaucratic tangle of first requiring

a policeman to be present to get him committed to the institution and at the same time

needing a medical professional to administer medication. The police would not come

unless the medics were there first. Eventually, a generous ambulance driver agreed

to take me and Martin in his ambulance to Sanatoria, a psychiatric hospital. My parents

followed in Dad’s car. The novelty of the equipment in the back of the ambulance

persuaded Martin to get in. As we drove to the hospital, Martin showed me how he

could slow down and speed up his heart rate at will. This was, I think, the first time I

experienced the power of the mind to control one’s physiology.

Terrible, extended, dark depressions always followed the incidences of thrilling daring.

Martin would disappear so far into a pit of despair that he could not eat or drink or talk,

remaining practically catatonic and unreachable. The episodes were unpredictable,

and we never knew when the manias, or the depressions, would creep up. We

eventually learnt to identify their onset. When mania was imminent, we would notice

that his eyes began to shine – there was a particular ‘staring’ kind of quality to them.

The depressions were worse. Then the corners of his mouth would turn slightly down,

and he would withdraw into his inner world. I don't know which was worse: the

craziness and occasional aggression of the manic state, or his disappearance into

desolation.

BAD and the family

A diagnosis of Bipolar Affective Disorder is terrifying for the family and for the individual

themselves. In the eighties, little information was available to us and almost no support

and understanding. People start avoiding us when Martin was ill and few of his friends

visited him in hospital. Psychologically, I managed the dissonance of his two

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‘personalities’ by dissociating the brother I revered from the disease he was fighting. I

separated ‘Martin’ and ‘sick Martin’ in my mind.

When we are at university in Cape Town, I manage Martin’s erratic behaviour and later

continue to support him when we both move back home to live. Mom is traumatised

by the events, but always manages to show Martin love and compassion. Dad bears

the practical brunt of the disorder. He pays the credit card bills for extravagant

purchases, like Nikon cameras, which are often given away to beggars on the street.

One day, Martin attacks Dad physically with the number plate he rips off Dad’s car.

Dad was looking for him after being informed that Martin had run away from another

institution and finds him wandering aimlessly on the highway. The symbolism of the

number plate as ‘identity’ is not lost on my awareness in later years. Swinging between

a kind and gentle demeanour into aggressive craziness must be the most extreme

manifestation of an identity crisis.

The saddest part of these challenging days was seeing the pain in Mom’s and Dad’s

eyes when they couldn't help Martin out of his darkest times. Mom was always kind

and supportive. Dad paid for the best treatments and doctors, was there when Martin

got into trouble, he encouraged him, and believed in him. My father loved Martin more

than the air he breathed. Their discussions weren’t the feisty knockouts that I, the

undisciplined daughter had with her red-haired father. They were deeply respectful of

each other and my brother hero-worshipped his dad. Any argument between them

unnerved them both. Dad even gave up a high-powered, well-paid job as managing

director of a large engineering firm to start a construction company so that he could

give Martin secure employment. He was never angry with Martin – ever.

7.3.3 My mindless meander into my twenties

My brother went missing, was found and is now diagnosed with a psychiatric disorder.

He is the designated problem child, yet I stubbornly refuse to step into maturity.

Although knowing that I need to be responsible, and not give my parents even more

to worry about as my brother is vulnerable, I have a few more childish exploits that are

irresistible to my adventure-seeking nature. I have not yet begun to learn the wisdom

of mindful presence. I retreat into a liberal, youthful chaos that shows a lack of

emotional and psychological resourcefulness. Double brandy and cokes are

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consumed with enthusiasm, and I fall in love with smoking from the first puff on an

illicit cigarette. I grow physically bigger as I gorge myself on comfort food and steadily

become more emotionally insecure. My acne reflects the toxicity of my mind-set and

a friend mistakenly cuts my hair like a boy’s. I wrestle the long-held pain of both feeling

ugly and trying to fit in and never quite succeeding.

The white population preserve their elitist stronghold at the University of Cape Town

in the eighties and I, like many other first-year students, roll into my university degree,

unaware of the privileges that my white skin gives me. As I embark on my studies,

however, I become alarmed by the social inequalities I now begin to notice. The racial

tension in South Africa surfaces in conversations around lunch tables and in the

library. We talk vehemently about Nelson Mandela, incarcerated on Robben Island,

less than 20 kilometres from where I am living a life of youthful freedom. Across the

hall from me in my residence, Zinzi Mandela, his daughter, has a room, but I never

dare to go and meet her.

I indulge in social activism and alcohol with equal abandon. Trying to attract the

attention of boys and smoking cigarettes provides an outlet for my rebellious nature,

as does throwing teargas canisters back at the policemen across De Waal Drive during

student protests. With a sense of self-righteousness and youthful zeal, I join the voices

that speak about racial unity and oppression and changing the status quo. I protest,

and debate. I deface racially-dividing political posters and signs that decree: ‘Whites

Only’. These activities provide me with an escapist thrill from my adolescent insecurity.

I feel that I belong to a group of students who are profound and wise, as we uphold

equality and emancipation. But really, I am an ingénue playing at being liberal;

appeasing my middle-class white guilt.

My mom tells me decades later, “Don’t be proud of yourself for protesting. You had

your face covered with a scarf. If you really were committed and authentic, you

wouldn’t have disguised yourself.”

A few students do make a difference; I am not part of that group.

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Occasional surreptitious drags of dagga,23 as well as a gigantic appetite for food, fuel

my low self-worth and expanding girth. I set out on a path of emotional and physical

self-destruction in a vain attempt to avoid my pain. The protection of a score of extra

kilograms enables me to obstinately resist my femininity and my sexuality. I hide

comfortably uncomfortable in a vague sort of student existential angst.

The Long Bag We Drag Behind Us – Robert Bly

We spend our life until we’re twenty deciding what parts of our self to put into the bag,

and we spend the rest of our lives trying to get them out again. Sometimes retrieving

them feels impossible, as if the bag were sealed. Suppose the bag remains sealed –

what happens then? (Bly & Booth, 1988, p. 18).

My parent’s divorce

In my second year of study, Mom calls Martin and tells him that she is coming to Cape

Town to visit us. Martin and I arrange to meet her at a coffee shop in Rondebosch. We

realise this is not a casual visit when we see the look on her face as she walks into

the shop. A meteor shakes my turbulent adolescence when she tells us that she is

leaving Dad. I look at Martin; he is equally shocked, and I see the corners of his mouth

turn down. She looks serious.

“I am going to live with Ian.”

The world tilts. It makes no sense. Ian is my dad’s best friend and his wife is mom’s

best friend. Their three kids have been our playmates since we were babies. Our

families go on holidays together. Mom is sad as she delivers the news.

“I am sorry. I waited until you were both grown, but Ian and I love each other, and I

can’t live with your dad anymore.”

Ian. I love Ian, I love his wife, I love his kids – but they are not my family. My dad loves

my mom – surely this cannot be real? Martin, wise and kind, seems to pull the threads

together faster than I can.

23 Dagga – South African slang for cannabis or marijuana.

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He says, “We will support you and Dad no matter what, Mom.”

Following his lead, I, too, tell her that I will support them, but I can’t wait to call my dad

and see how is coping. He of course reassures me that he is fine. I cry into my pillow

for many months after Mom breaks the news. Part of my sadness is because I realise

that Dad is heartbroken. Martin and I talk about the divorce and agree that Ian and

Mom are perfect for each other, and it is incredible that none of us saw this coming.

After the news about my parents’ pending divorce, I, finally having a sense of purpose,

and begin to escape the self-destructive spiral of an ambiguous life. Using the excuse

of rescuing my ‘abandoned’ father, I drop out of university to return home to

Johannesburg, not admitting that I hate living in Cape Town, I hate myself and I am

failing my courses. This new crisis gives me the chance to start again. I convince

myself that I must take over from Mom and look after Dad. My immature and

egocentric self has found an escape route.

Attending Beauty College, desperate to learn how to look pretty, my ugly duckling

identity chooses a career that never quite fits my personality. Although the skin creams

and promises of ageless glamour don’t excite me, I nevertheless eventually gain some

control over my acne, grow my hair and feel more like a girl. I learn how to apply make-

up and begin to lose some weight. I feel nebulously in control of my world.

My Marriage

The Long Bag We Drag Behind Us – Robert Bly

I maintain that out of a round globe of energy the twenty-year-old ends up with a slice.

We’ll imagine a man who has a thin slice left – the rest is in the bag – and we’ll imagine

that he meets a woman; let’s say they are both twenty-four. She has a thin, elegant

slice left. They join each other in a ceremony, and this union of two slices is called

marriage. Even together the two do not make up one person! Marriage when the bag

is large entails loneliness during the honeymoon for that very reason. Of course, we

all lie about it. “How is your honeymoon?” “Wonderful, how’s yours?” (Bly & Booth,

1988, p.18).

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Looking after Dad makes me feel important – at last I have a way to win his approval.

Martin and I move back home in the upmarket suburb of Morningside. Martin is not

passing university either. The impact of his wayward psyche, and the many

hospitalisations, halts the progress of his academic ventures. We live on five acres of

lush gardens, in a majestic home, and I proudly take over the management of our

household, while attending beauty college.

I still wrestle with the pain of inadequacy and low self-esteem and feel comfortable in

the world of misfits and rebels. We gravitate towards Hillbrow, a Joburg inner-city

haven for tattoo artists, folk clubs and late-night hangouts. Hillbrow is a perfect match

for my scarred identity. My new friends and I lurk in coffee shops where we drink dark

espressos and play backgammon. We nervously walk in the streets, avoiding the

chanting Hare Krishna’s in their saffron robes, and the wailing of the police sirens as

they round up the prostitutes. We ignore the blank stares of the hobos lying under their

newspapers, and the pleas of the heroin addicts surrounded by their drug

paraphernalia.

I meet my husband-to-be at a disreputable bar called The Twilight Zone, in the middle

of Hillbrow. He is the friend of one of my ex-boyfriends and is kind to me. We are

perfectly matched in our mutual inadequacy and begin a co-dependent relationship

that starts with a bottle of wine and continues its capricious trajectory for the next two

decades.

We get engaged when we are both 24 and celebrate our marriage at the Rand Club,

another citadel of white South African elitism. Although democracy has begun to take

its first hesitant steps in a divided country, South Africa, like me, is still years away

from being transformed. But it is beginning. Nelson Mandela is released from prison

in 1990 and the ANC24 is unbanned.

The Rand Club, a ‘gentlemen’s club’, opened in the late 1800s in an elegant building

with wide staircases and wooden floors. No blacks, women or Jews are permitted to

be members and women have to enter the club through a side door. This patriarchal

practice changed a few years before my wedding, and I am allowed to walk up the

24 The ANC – the African National Congress – is a political party that was banned under the old

dispensation and eventually became the ruling party in post-apartheid South Africa.

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elegant staircase to our reception on the first floor. It is a stylish wedding for an

awkward couple. We naively begin a marriage that lasts for 21 years, grasping our

long bags determinedly behind us. The bag, as explained by Bly, we have filled with

the invalidations from our families, society and the schooling system. We have packed

that bag ourselves because we did not feel good enough, worthy, or deserving of

success. We are thin slices, my husband and I, seamlessly mirroring each other’s

inadequacies in this union called marriage.

7.4 MY BROTHER LEAVES

Another wedding

Two years after my wedding, Martin marries Lisa. It is 1993 and the sun streams

optimistically through the stained-glass windows of St Stithian’s25 chapel. I watch my

brother tremble with emotion as he makes his vows to the woman he loves. Torn

between admiration for his huge warm heart and cynicism, I am not sure that Martin

has made the right choice. Jealousy clouds my judgement, and I spend most of the

celebrations afterwards in the bathroom, wrapped in self-pity, convincing myself that

my brother and his new wife have left me out of the wedding photos and put me at the

furthest chair on the furthest table from the wedding party intentionally. My husband

and my best friend, Martin’s best man, are both at the coveted main table and I am

childishly, although possibly understandably, irked by this.

Making a difference

Martin continues to live a ‘good life’ in the months that he is married to Lisa. They both

belong to Rotary and spend their weekends painting the walls of schools in the

townships and running feeding schemes for the poor, attending church and prayer

groups.

Five years before his marriage, in 1988, Martin, a friend Edith and I established the

Bipolar Support Group.26 We ran it successfully for many years. From then on, Martin’s

moods stabilised through adherence to a strict pharmaceutical regime. He becomes a

25 St Stithian’s at the time was an elite private boys-only school that my brother attended for most of

his schooling. 26 The Bipolar Support Group – a support group for people suffering from bipolar affective disorder

and their families.

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symbol of how successfully a person diagnosed with bipolar disorder can live, but only

if they consistently take their medication. He is an inspiration, and a shoulder to cry on

for many bipolar sufferers, while I ride on the coattails of my brother’s altruism by

providing counselling for the families.

I start to discover meaning and purpose in my life as I begin to learn from my difficult

life lessons. In the early 90s, I attend a crisis intervention course and train to become

a counsellor for the 702 Crisis Centre27 in the middle of Berea, an inner-city suburb.

Here, I am catapulted out of my middle-class comfort zone into conversations with

pimps and addicts; child abusers and rape survivors. I am completely out of my

comfort zone and feel as if I am barely keeping my head above water. I persist because

I feel that I can make a difference and I feel valuable. An internal battle rages as I

struggle with the conflicting desire to be important, subduing my rebellious nature. I

am anti-establishment and mischievous, without self-worth and I despair of ever being

someone who makes an impact on the world.

Marking our X

Now, eight months after Martin’s wedding, we stand in long lines as we brace

ourselves against the early winter air. Old and young, men and women, blacks, whites,

coloureds, and Indians. It is the 27 April 1994 and South Africa is at the dawn of a new

democracy after thrashing through a tentative transition period. We stand in a line to

place our eager cross in a small square on a voting sheet. South Africa is giving birth

to a new, representative government. Martin and Lisa revel in the moment. They enjoy

the day of transformation whereas I just want to go on holiday. The wonder of

participating in this historical, peaceful revolution is lost on my immature psyche.

My husband and I set off for the game farm we call Limberlost28 that my family has

owned for the last twenty years in the Soutpansberg mountains in northern

Transvaal,29 arriving at lunchtime. Later that evening, Martin and Lisa arrive. We

spend the weekend hiking and swimming and braaiing30. Charades and Trivial

27 702 Crisis centre – a Crisis support service funded by radio 702 28 Limberlost – the family ‘farm’ in the Soutpansberg mountain range in the Northern Transvaal,

which we had owned since 1976. 29 This is later renamed Limpopo by the new dispensation. 30 Braai – a South African recreational cooking method of grilling meat over coals.

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Pursuit31 played in the afternoons, then settling down to chat and drink red wine around

a huge bonfire in the stone Lapa32 under a gigantic fever tree. Laughing and joking,

the four of us in our twenties, playing, without a care in the world, our futures ahead

and family bonds connecting us.

Martin goes missing again.

Back in Joburg after an exuberant weekend, we are excited to live in a country at last

uncontaminated by apartheid dogma. Less than three weeks later, early on a

Wednesday evening, Lisa phones.

“Martin hasn’t come home from work,” she says anxiously.

Martin is missing again, 11 years since his last disappearance into the African bush.

Mildly concerned, I have no doubt that we will find him just like the last time, although

panic stirs in the back of my mind. I call Dad, after reassuring Lisa that Dad will make

everything ok. He is in Mauritius on business and arranges to take the next flight home.

Although it has been six years since Martin was last ill, for Dad it is urgent. The

medication had stabilised Martin and he was again the responsible, calm, and quiet

brother I knew from our youth, but our memories of the chaos are still vivid.

After a sleepless night anticipating the worst and with a rapidly growing sense of

unease, Lisa and I spend the next day together making phone calls and liaising with

Mom and Dad. I meet Dad at his office as soon as he arrives, directly from the airport.

His face is drawn and pale, and he paces his office deciding what steps to take next.

He tells me that he argued with Martin before he left. He felt that Martin needed to

assert his authority in his new marriage. Dad and Martin seldom argue. Dad is

devastated that he may have upset Martin, but both Mom and I have noticed that

Martin had seemed to be slipping back into depression in the last few weeks.

As the hours pass with no news, the dawning reality that we are facing something big

initiates focused action from all of us, including our family friends. Lisa’s sister is

interviewed on 702, a radio station, and speaks to John Robbie.33 I am irrationally

31 A board game of general knowledge. 32 A South African word for a semi-open entertainment area. 33 A well-known talk-show host on 702 radio.

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irritated because she isn’t part of the family and I feel that if anyone should take charge

it should be me. He is my brother after all.

We still have no news by Saturday, and I end up at the deserted offices of The Star

newspaper,34 a blustery wind chilling my skin and the desolate streets of the

Johannesburg inner-city reflecting my anguish. I park my car, noting my isolation,

feeling uneasy about the quietness of the city on a weekend. I walk up to a clerk at the

front desk who seems to be asleep, her head on her arms. She looks irritated when I

clear my throat noisily.

“Yes?”

My request to place an article in the newspaper about my missing brother is received

carelessly and refused.

“You have no idea what it’s like! I hope you never have a person go missing in your

family!” I yell at her. I may have used a swear word, or two. A sense of hopelessness

overwhelms me.

I drive home in tears. My earlier confidence about finding my brother unharmed is

becoming a gut-wrenching worry. As I turn into my driveway, I see cars parked. At

first, I am confused and wonder why there are so many people at my house.

Bewilderment turns to anticipation as my dad comes out the front door, but his face is

grim.

“Col, Colin phoned from the farm. They have found Martin’s car parked near the radio

mast. Let’s get going.”

Colin, our much-beloved farm manager, whom we have known since we were small

children, has found Martin’s white Honda Ballade halfway up a side road that winds its

way up to a radio mast we played on as children. I recall being a small girl looking up

as Martin and his friends climb the towering mast. They looked like they could touch

the sky. I was angry that I did not have the courage to climb as high as the boys.

34 The Star newspaper – a daily newspaper based in Johannesburg.

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My reverie ends as Lisa and my husband come out the house with my overnight bag.

John Perkins, who had been in the search party in 1983, and his girlfriend also

emerge, ready to drive up to the farm. I am relieved that something is happening,

convinced that we have found my brother, but uneasy, sure that he is not well again.

Searching for Martin

Dad, Lisa, my husband and I get into Dad’s BMW. After an anxiety filled five-hour

journey, we arrive late in the afternoon and turn left off the farm road heading up

towards the radio mast. We see Martin’s car. It is parked carefully but is unlocked. A

hastily coordinated search party spreads out, shouting Martin’s name, reassuring him,

always conscious of the possibility that he could be scared, alone, confused. I sense

that he is nearby, that he can hear us, but can’t or won’t reply. I breathe in the familiar

smells of the mountain and the bush, imagining our small footprints on this landscape

of our childhood escapades.

Eventually, we get back into the car. The sun is setting. May in the mountains already

feels like midwinter – it is damp and cold. We drive a little further up the road to a TV

aerial – about 300 metres further than the radio mast. We call. Nothing. Dad then turns

the car and drives slowly back down past the mast.

I have an idea. “Dad let me quickly jump over the fence and check at the bottom?”

Dad’s answer is an emphatic, “no”,

We are silent again.

I share a room with Lisa that night at Limberlost. The light from the radio mast teases

us with its knowledge that we want so badly. A few weeks before we had been laughing

and drinking, playing board games and braaiing under the stars in this very place.

Now, we are quiet. I shiver in the warmth of my duvet, feeling the cold that Martin must

be feeling outside. Lisa’s breathing is uneven and shallow. It is a long night.

We must have slept. As the sun rises, I open my eyes feeling a familiar weight on my

heart. I dress in comfortable clothes and pull on my hiking boots. Silence sits heavily

as we gather in the farmhouse kitchen to eat stale cornflakes that have been left in the

cupboard. We haven’t thought about shopping for food. Dad takes a deep breath and

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sends us off in different directions to search. He stays at the farmhouse. I don’t

question him. John heads back to check the radio mast. My husband, Lisa and I set

off for the Eagles Nest, which is a few kilometres further down the road.

“Guys, I think we will find Mart at Eagles Nest.35 You know it’s his favourite place on

the farm. But we must go carefully. If he is manic or depressed, we don’t want to alarm

him,” I say.

They agree. The Eagle’s Nest was a favourite place for Martin as we explored and

adventured on childhood holidays at the farm. A tough hike through some thick bush

to the top of the mountain takes us to where we can see the eagle’s nest across the

valley. Black eagles’ mate for life and are territorial. For many years we were

convinced that the same ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ eagles had been watching us grow from

small children into our teenage years and beyond.

After telling the other two to search the top of the Eagles Nest viewpoint, I run through

the valley to the bottom of the mountain, sure of every rock and every tree on these

paths I have walked since I was ten years old. Constantly calling for Martin, reassuring

him, I have new-found strength and stamina. Martin is not in the valley, so I run up to

the lookout cliff, meeting the other two halfway as they are walking back. They shake

their heads. Dejected and worried we head back to the car.

At this moment on that anxious morning, in the mountains, I have a profound, yet

surreal, encounter. As I turn to look back across the valley, shielding my eyes from the

glare of the early morning sun, I see a man standing on the cliff face across the valley.

I blink. It is Martin. But wait … I squint into the bright morning light – is it a man, or is

it an eagle? With the sun in my eyes and the distance and the shadows, the size is

deceptive. I run back towards the cliff shouting Martin’s name, gasping for breath,

convinced it is my brother. Surreal and unnerving, the shape is still – seeming to watch

me. As I get closer, I see that it is not my brother. It is an eagle. Forever afterwards, I

am half-convinced I saw a man. Martin wore a silver eagle head around his neck for

many years.

35 Eagles nest – a valley where we could watch the black eagles nesting

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Photograph 4: Martin with the silver eagle around his neck

The three of us reluctantly climb into the car and drive to Limberlost. As we turn into

the driveway, I notice that it is particularly beautiful and lush; the farmhouse is

surrounded by the intense colours of bold giant proteas and sharp strelitzia’s. Pink

azaleas36 splash joyously against the green foliage on either side of the driveway.

Photograph 5: Limberlost

Dad walks out onto the patio. Scarcely waiting for the car to stop, I leap out shouting

to him:

“It is okay, Dad, it’s okay. Martin’s not at Eagles Nest.”

36 Proteas, strelitzia’s and azaleas – flowers native to the Southern African region.

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Dad moves heavily towards me. His words are muddled. The incomprehensible reality

sluggishly intrudes into my consciousness. The unthinkable, the worst possible truth,

is apparent in Dad’s eyes.

“We have found him, Col. Oh my God, Col”.

In the distance, I hear Lisa screaming.

The sun is warm, but I am cold. The world stands still. I hold onto Dad and I know our

lives will never feel quite right again.

The Eagle has flown

Martin had been dead for more than 24 hours. He had jumped (for a time we wanted

to believe that he had fallen) from an unimaginable height from the radio mast. Over

the next few weeks, we attempt to piece together the possible events of the past few

days. He drove up to the farm on Wednesday and died sometime on Saturday. The

questions I keep asking myself will remain unanswered. Had he been cold? Scared?

Confused? Had he sat at the top of the tower for long? Were memories evoked by the

pathways of our energetic childhood, deep in those rugged mountains that were our

backyard? Did he want to leave us, or was his mind psychotic and delusional?

He will never know the joy of having a child – or the pain. He won’t celebrate his

thirtieth birthday, or Christmas, or hike in his beloved wilderness again. The worst part

of it is that it didn’t have to be this way. We could have saved him.

My heart is broken.

Was it a hallucination borne of anxiety and fear when I imagined being watched at the

Eagles Nest? Probably, but whimsically I like to think it was my brother’s spirit in eagle

form – poised, reflective, saying goodbye.

A few years later, I engage my favourite pseudo-mystics on Google and discover this

message: If an individual has been going through a hard time, the eagle not only

signals a new beginning, but provides that person with the stamina and resilience to

endure the difficulties. If eagle has appeared, it bestows freedom and courage to look

ahead. The eagle is symbolic of the importance of honesty and truthful principles.

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Summon the eagle when you are about to embark on a challenge, a massive life

change or a creative endeavour.37

I needed to summon that eagle; my challenges were only just beginning to derail life

as I knew it.

A new reality

My husband has the unenviable task of driving Martin’s car back to Joburg. Dad, Lisa

and I travel together. I give Lisa tablets and settle her on the back seat. She is

inconsolable. Dad and I are silent. We stop in Louis Trichardt38 to identify Martin’s

body. The town is a bastion of Afrikaner custom, mysteriously entwined with a rural

African culture that is ancient, ancestral and superstitious. I wait in the car with my

brother’s widow, mercifully now asleep from the medication I have given her.

Sweat collects on my brow and under my arms. Moisture drips down my face. Not

tears. I am unable cry then and for many years after this dreadful day. Breathing in

and then out, watching people enter and leave the mortuary. Black people, alternately

colourful and drab, confident and unsure. White people, uniformed or in khaki farm

clothes, looking like farmers or officials. The new South Africa is not yet asserting its

new rainbow nation identity, tentatively taking the first steps in the journey of letting go

and forgiving, reorganising and transforming. My family will have to do the same. The

reality that I don’t have a brother anymore isn’t sinking in. I see Dad walking back to

the car, his eyes and stooped shoulders reflect his unspeakable pain. As he looked at

his son’s body, they told him that Martin had committed suicide. They were kind, they

said that we couldn’t stop it from happening; that Martin was determined to die.

My father repeats himself over and over during the long journey home, “His poor

broken body, Col. His poor broken body.”

We arrive at Mom’s house and park down the road because there are dozens of cars

parked outside. Mom is waiting. She puts out her arms to me.

“I don’t have a son anymore.”

37 http://www.-spirit.com/more-animal-symbolism/629-eagle-symbolism 38 Now known as Makhado.

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I step towards her. This is a new world. We are bewildered and in pain for a long time.

7.5 WE ALWAYS HAVE A CHOICE

“Everything can be taken from a man but one

thing: the last of the human freedoms – to

choose one’s attitude in any given set of

circumstances, to choose one’s own way”

(Frankl, 2006, p.11).

7.5.1 Adopting Abi

In that year, 1994, as my country transitions from black and white into a rainbow

nation, I suffer the loss of my beloved brother. I also learn to merge with a new social

order and adopt my first child.

We enter into a covenant that we shall build a society in which all South

Africans, both black and white, will be able to walk tall, without fear in their

hearts, assured of their inalienable right to human dignity – a rainbow nation

at peace with itself and the world (Nelson Mandela, quoted in Koegelenberg,

1996).

As Martin’s absence is acutely and bewilderingly felt, I move into fast-forward mode. I

decide the fertility treatments that my husband and I have been undergoing are a

waste of time. Three-and-a-half years of tears, countless operations, drugs and

hopeless medical promises, and now my brother’s death, have taken me to a point

where I persuade myself that I really don’t have an emotional attachment to giving

birth to my own children. I just want to have a child. Another reason for adopting is that

I am terrified that the BAD gene is inherited.

“I am done with mental dysfunction,” I declare. I will never again go through the same

trauma we have just been through.

How arrogant I was to think that I could sidestep the fickle finger of fate. Martin dies,

and I start looking for a new meaning in my life. My husband, never one to hold a

strong stand on any issue, mildly agrees. I hear about a social worker in private

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practice, specialising in open adoptions, and I spring into action. Her name is Zoe

Cohen. We are told that Zoe “can get you babies”.

To adopt a white baby in 1994 is nothing short of a miracle; furthermore, to adopt one

under two years old is unheard of. But my family is broken, and this may be a way to

put the pieces together again. We meet the ‘dynamite baby maker’, a powerhouse of

energy and action. Arduous months of form filling and psychometric tests and

interviews follow. We attend awkward ‘support-group’ meetings and painstakingly put

together a portfolio of our lives, imagining what a birth mother would want to see. In

an open adoption, the biological mother chooses the parents for her child by sitting in

a social worker’s office perusing artificial scrapbooks of smiles and Pritt-glued hopes.

I still have that portfolio – a blue plastic folder of desperate anticipation. I want to be a

mom and buy into the contrived, dehumanising process, carefully pasting photos and

choosing captions that will convince a birthmother to give me their child.

Six months after Martin’s death, my husband and I attend yet another mandatory

meeting with other couples at various stages of the adoption process. One couple

have been ‘on the list’ for three years. She tells me she has given up hope. I have a

meaningful conversation with her.

I say, “In the Bible it says that if you want something you must ask for it”. (I am still

erring on the side of dutiful Methodist conviction. It would take 20 years before I

become agnostic.)

There are two biological moms at the meeting. Janet has given her baby up for

adoption. She is a pretty, confident young university student, brought up in a Christian

home, but has decided to entrust her baby to a deeply religious Jewish couple living

in Israel. Her wisdom and character at such a young age inspires me. The other

pregnant lady, Wendy, is quiet, yet seems confident. I watch her surreptitiously,

curious who the couple is that she has chosen for her unborn child. She does not say

much, but I think she is sweet. I hope that things will work out for her.

Four days later, my phone rings. It is 8 November 1994, Martin’s birthday. The first

birthday that we will not celebrate with him.

It is Zoe. “Colleen, if there was a baby. Would you be ready for it?”

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“Sure”, I answer, happily naïve. “No problem, I am hundred percent prepared.”

“Your portfolio has been chosen by one of the Birth Mothers. I told her that you were

not an option; that you have only just gone on the list” Zoe tells me. “The book was on

the table in my office and she picked it up. She says she doesn't want anyone else to

be the parents to her child. Colleen, the baby is due in two weeks’ time.”

On my brother’s birthday, in a year of national and personal revolution, my husband

and I meet at the coffee shop next to his building site to discuss and decide. I could

never turn down this chance to be a mother. We excitedly agree that it’s a definite yes!

I call my mom and then the family and some friends. My great friend Tracy, a wise-

one-with-many-offspring, gently asks me if I am prepared.

“Sure”, I reply gaily. “I have a bottle and I’ll buy a dummy and some nappies at the

chemist and I have a big drawer.”

I have a bizarre misguided notion that the baby can sleep in a drawer, I am sure it was

drawn from some ancestral anecdote of a great grand-something; besides, it was a

huge drawer! She told me later that she put down the phone and carefully dialled my

mom. “Jacky, we have a problem.”

Within a week they organise a baby shower, where I am accosted by all kinds of

horrifying baby paraphernalia. I am filled with gratitude and mystified by this baby-

world. I even ask my mother-in-law, “Please don’t laugh at me, but tell me how to hold

a baby?”

And then there were three

An anxious two weeks passes as we wait for THE phone call from the social worker

telling us that Wendy has gone into labour.

Eventually, the phone rings: “The baby is on its way.”

We race out of the house, get into our car, collect Wendy from her flat and take her to

Marymount hospital, the same hospital where Martin and I were born.

After four hours of intense labour, the doctor puts a tiny baby in Wendy’s arms. I stand

nervously beside Abi’s biological mother, unsure what I should be doing or saying.

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She turns to me with a squirming armful of blessings and says the most beautiful words

I have ever heard: “Here is your daughter.”

Abigail, the first love of my life, is born on a beautiful, sunny and miraculous Friday in

November. I am no longer a sister. I am still a daughter and a wife but now I am also

a mother.

In the next weeks I step into my new role – thrilled; still grieving the loss of my brother;

unsure and bewildered by a squalling, unhappy baby; my emotions are all over the

place. The more Abi screams, the more anxious and useless I feel. The weight I had

hesitantly started to shed, hurtles into an alarming, almost emaciated thinness. My

sleep is infrequent and disturbed. People stop visiting. Family look on helplessly as

we try to calm our red-faced screaming child. Abi and I hand our unhappiness back

and forth, unable to find a magic formula for peace. My tardy guardian angel finally

steps in when Abi is eight months old, and an E&T specialist diagnoses blocked,

painful eardrums. Abi has surgery. By then, the poor child has spent half of her infancy

awake and unhappy. I have walked tracks around the garden, singing every song I

know, then making up new ones. My inexperience only serves to over-stimulate an

already exhausted little being.

As is clear, I do not slip into motherhood easily. Abi, her dad and I wrestle our way

through her infancy, but luckily this turns towards a peaceful early childhood and calm

adolescence. I made a choice on the day she was born that I would always love Abi

with all my heart, and I do.

Reflection. My journal entry, June 14, 2013

I am not sure if it was our trip to Everest Base Camp that had prompted Abi’s need to

know more about her biological family. It is 19 years after she is born, I am about to

see her discover where she comes from. I am scared at this gigantic moment in her

discovery of who she is in the world. Imagine a whole new family and genetic

information. New familial relationships and dynamics. A different social structure,

belief system. Wow – I am overwhelmed by the task and, frankly, my heart feels like it

is caught in a vice.

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Abi, of course, is not overwhelmed. “Trust me, Mommy,” she says. I do, and I will. But

I tell her that I am like the singing bowl that she brought home from Kathmandu.

Like the bowl, I am the safe space, and I provide the boundaries within which the

vibrations happen. She is the wand that makes the vibrations. She will determine the

pace and the tone and the energy of the song.

We go for a long walk on the bridle path surrounding the estate. We talk. She has

always known she is adopted, and I have added more information through the years

as I feel she can understand. When we get back to the house, I add some last pieces

of information, showing Abi the scraps of paper on which I wrote everything we were

told all those years before. Her biological mom was 24, had two small girls aged two

and four years, and had played netball and the recorder at school. She did not know

much about the father. Abi is cheerful and curious, and I take a deep breath as we

pore over the photos, clippings and letters Wendy and I had sent each other through

the years.

I knew this day would come. I am strangely calm, although I have been terrified of this

since she was born. Earlier today I spoke to her biological mom on the phone. It is

almost twenty years since we have spoken and although I am warm and kind, I feel

no connection.

I know that this child is not mine by right. I only have the power to love her and be

loved in return. Abi is one of my teachers. She is a girl with firm rules for life – I hope

they stand as her shield and her guide through this new experience. I hope her

biological family are kind. I also hope they are not better than me! This part is not my

story to craft. This is where I will hand the wand to Abigail. If I feel some fear? That's

what Mom’s feel.

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Photograph 6: My favourite picture of Abi and myself. We are on the beach, minutes

before we meet her biological family for the first time.

7.5.2 Gabriel is born on the edge of a new millennium

My husband and I are both 34 years old and Abi is five. Our son Gabriel is born,

surrounded by conventional medical paraphernalia and personnel, about to inhabit an

unconventional life. The anaesthetist is particularly concerned and kind to me, a

refreshing relief from the indifference we are usually shown by most of the

professionals involved in the adoption process. I always feel as though we must prove

that we are good enough to be parents and have to demonstrate to our family and

friends that we ‘deserve’ to be given a child, as opposed to merely ‘having’ one.

Years later, when Gabes is 10 years old, I post on my Facebook page a comment that

he makes to Abi’s boyfriend.

“So, Mike, are you also adopted, or were you just made?”

I remember Gabriel’s birth better than I do Abigail’s. I sit in the hospital garden with

his birth mother as she smokes yet another cigarette before we are called into the

ward. I try to make conversation. Having nothing in common except that she is about

to give to me the most precious thing in the world that any human being can give

another – her child, I am kind and respectful. Although her background and beliefs

bear no similarity to mine, I glimpse the surreal space from her perspective: nine

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months pregnant, sitting in the garden of the hospital, about to undergo surgery, to

give birth to a child, which you will then hand over to someone you hardly know.

It is ten days into the new millennium, and we are called inside by the nurse. An hour

later, I watch aghast as the doctors swiftly slice through her belly thrusting aside a

bundle of human organs to bring out the baby into a harsh, bright room. Our son is

handed to a paediatrician who rushes him across to a brightly lit counter and prods,

pokes and manipulates his miniature limbs. I watch in confusion and detached wonder,

unprepared for the discordant chaos of this birthing experience.

We had met with the paediatric doctor before the birth to discuss a question we had

about whether this baby had been exposed to alcohol while in utero. The doctor is

aware of our fears and we trust him to be looking for this one specific issue. His failure

to do so, I later philosophically decide, is the universe’s way of ensuring that Gabriel

becomes my son. He discovers that Gabriel has dislocated hips but is, otherwise,

pronounced healthy. An Apgar score of nine reassures me that all we have to worry

about is the small problem of the ‘clicky hips’. This is a colloquial term for Congenital

Hip Displacement (CHD). Mostly this is a mild problem, only occasionally serious. It is

only many months later that we discover that Gabriel’s condition falls into the serious

category.

The social worker approaches me when I walk into the waiting room to tell my husband

that we have a beautiful son.

She frowns. “We discussed this, Colleen. You said that you would not take a child with

a disability.”

In one of the adoption sessions in the months before, she had asked us whether we

were prepared to take this baby, regardless of any medical problem. I immediately

said “No, definitely not!”.

I was not prepared to take on a baby with a disability. This was the reason I elected to

have a specialist paediatrician present at the birth – to screen for any abnormalities.

My beloved brother had been destroyed through the malice of a psychiatric disorder.

My daughter should not bear the burden of the responsibility and heartache of caring

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for a sibling with ill mental health, as I had. Looking back, this was just one of many

twists of fate that ensured Gabriel’s safe passage to the heart of our family. The

paediatrician had found a physical disability, not a mental one. I believed that I had

the resources and strength to cope with a minor physical disability. If anything, this

made Gabriel’s adoption even more meaningful and poignant.

“No problem, it's physical, I can cope with that,” I gaily reassure the social worker.

Ah, how the gods of fate must have chortled at my arrogance and ignorance.

When we were told about the possibility of adopting a baby five months earlier, the

social worker was cautious.

“There is little information about the family, but it is definitely dysfunctional. The

biological mother has been thrown out of her brother’s house and has two children

placed in an orphanage.”

I shrugged it off knowing that it was difficult to adopt a baby in South Africa and I would

grab any chance. I made a choice. I wanted Gabriel, my son.

An orthopaedic surgeon, Dr Molteno, comes to measure my little boy for a Pavlik

harness, an innocuous looking brace that holds his tiny body in an impossible position.

The straps are secured over his shoulders, around his belly and his tiny feet, pulling

them up, bending his knees. The nurses show us how to bathe and change him without

removing the brace.

“He will feel no discomfort.”

They lied. I tuck a tiny vest and clumps of cotton-wool underneath the straps,

unsuccessfully in an effort to alleviate his discomfort. It became a two-year struggle,

and I never gave up trying.

I spend the night at the hospital with this strange little trussed-up creature. I am

determined to be calm and competent, but inside I am quivering, ‘Oh my god. Can I

do this?’

That night it is particularly difficult to feed and comfort little Gabriel.

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The second day of his life I phone Helen, a wise and competent psychologist and

friend. I sense that something is wrong, something more than the physical challenge.

Photograph 7: Gabriel aged 2 months in the Pavlik Harness

“What are symptoms of brain dysfunction in babies?” I ask her.

I nervously listen to her answer as I look at my new-born son but reassure myself that

I have nothing to fear. After putting the phone down, I do what I am so very good at

doing.

‘I just won’t think about it,’ I decide triumphantly.

This is the beginning of two difficult years with Gabriel. He undergoes anaesthetic ten

times in total – three times to have extensive bone surgery – unspeakably harrowing

experiences. He is almost always either in a full body brace, a full body cast, from his

armpits to his toes, or has his legs in some form of plaster. When he is in the full body

cast, he has a tiny space for his genital area where we ineffectually tuck his nappy. By

the time the plaster cast is changed under anaesthetic every six weeks, it is soggy and

smells terrible. I sleep with Gabriel lying flat against my chest, night after night.

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I remember my dad’s words to me: “Col, you have a backbone of steel, because you

were cast in a foundry.” The metaphorical metal in my spine gets stronger and more

resilient.

7.5.3 Flutterby

I am the mother of a Butterfly Child. His name is Gabriel and I love him more

than life itself. Gabriel has Foetal Alcohol Syndrome. Children with this

syndrome are known as “Butterfly” children because of their particularly

engaging and sociable personalities.39

Five and a half years after Gabriel enters my world, his teacher gently suggests we

take him to be assessed. Gabes, as we call him affectionately, is a talkative kid; sweet

and funny, with endearing mannerisms, and a wonderful way of connecting with

people. Because of his hip displacement, Gabes finds it difficult to walk on uneven

surfaces and staircases. We learn to book holidays in places that don’t require a lot of

walking and we always, always hold out our hand for Gabes to stabilise himself. We

know that he will have to have many operations to his feet and his hips. It will be a

lifelong journey.

In mid-August 2005, following the advice of the playschool teacher, my husband and

I sit at a wooden desk at TMI,40 facing a panel of professors and geneticists. They

deliver their diagnosis dispassionately, but kindly. Our gregarious and lovable son is

significantly mentally disabled. We sit in shock as they explain that Gabe will never

reach the cognitive age of even a 10-year-old. We drive home bewildered and sad,

feelings that last weeks and months and years.

Months of tests that confirm the devastating prognosis follow, accompanied by

shattered dreams, moments of denial and hopeful fantasy and, finally, the heart-

wrenching acceptance that Gabriel is the victim of a permanent mental syndrome. The

future looks bleak.

39 From my website, www.flutterby.co.za 40 The Transvaal Memorial Institute, which is the children’s unit affiliated to the Johannesburg

General Hospital.

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Gabriel has foetal alcohol syndrome (FAS), which is the only mental syndrome that is

a hundred per cent preventable. No drinking in pregnancy, no FAS. Looking back at

the information we were given at his birth; pieces of a fuzzy puzzle becomes clearer.

His biological mother had been drinking alcohol excessively during her pregnancy.

The alcohol has, quite literally, shrunk my son’s brain. Shattered, I begin to search

every website and self-help group I can find, trying to find hope and support.

Gabriel the paradox

At our local pizza place, I watch Gabes flit from table to table, entrancing one person

after another. Curious, he asks questions about their lives, or choice of hairstyle, or

favourite pizza. He has a sweet look and manner, but I see the puzzlement in people’s

eyes as they realise something is just not quite right. When I talk about Gabes, I

describe him as ‘left-of-centre’ – he is different and functions outside of society’s

expectations. Often, Gabriel will inexplicably begin to dance. It is entertaining, but

unfortunately usually inappropriate. I fluctuate between being entranced by his

engaging personality and in despair at how he will survive in a world made for ‘normal’

people. Inevitably, he attracts the attention of bullies, and I watch as the attacks –

mocking taunts and deliberate nastiness. I sometimes try to let him tough it out, to

learn to manage it, but it breaks my heart, so I usually sweep in to rescue him.

My sweet son at times acts like a violent, trapped animal, usually when he feels afraid;

often when he is separated from me. The trigger can be innocuous – catching a train,

or a strong wind blowing. A tree in our neighbour’s garden terrifies him for years. When

he knows I am going away, he grabs me and start to shake. If I try to persuade him to

let me go, he grips me even tighter, sometimes really hurting me. When this happens

at his school, the headmistress, the security guards and the school psychologists all

try to help, but Gabes’ world becomes a shark tank. Everything is a predator.

Sometimes, he does what we call ‘a runner’. He will suddenly take off, like a little wild

animal under attack. There have been times when he has run out of the school gates

and across lanes on main roads with traffic swerving to avoid him. Afterwards, he is

desperately sorry and apologises over and over. But when he is in the throes of an

attack, there is no reason, only pure terror. As he grows into his teen years the ‘furies’,

as I call them, are often the result of him being thwarted in taking a hazardous action,

stopping him from being a danger to both us and himself.

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Life with Gabriel swings from refreshingly easy to intensely difficult. I receive an email

after a holiday at Storm’s River in the Eastern Cape:

Ajubatus Marine Rescue

Sent: 11 January 2008

To: Brainwise

Subject: Gabriel the Penguin

Hi Colleen

Finally, we got in a little penguin that reminded me of Gabriel, small but oh so

cheeky. Please show Gabriel his penguin - go to www.penguin-rescue.org.za, click

on the Penguin Diaries and look for Gabriel.

I will put more photos of Gabriel penguin on the web, as he gets stronger. He is very

small and although he is not in the hospital anymore, we are still keeping a close eye

on him. He is eating well and at the moment his future looks bright. I will alert you

when I put more pictures on the site.

Kind regards

Trudi Malan

_____________________________________________________________

From: Brainwise [mailto:colleen@brainwise.co.za]

Sent: 11 January 2008 16:08

To: Ajubatus Marine Rescue

Thank you so much for this, Trudi! It means so much to me and you have made

Gabriel's birthday (which was yesterday!) the happiest day. He thinks this little

penguin is the most special birthday gift of all!

I know you really connected with my Gabriel when we visited in December. Gabriel is

a special-needs child. He has been diagnosed as unable to learn. He does, however,

have a great gift and that is his ability with language. While he cannot read, write or

do maths, he is amazingly social, interested in people and loves to chat! This was

such a special experience for him, and we will keep your organisation close to our

hearts. I will do some thinking of ways in which I can perhaps do some fundraising or

creating awareness for you here in Gauteng!

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Kind regards

Colleen

From: Ajubatus Marine Rescue

Sent: 22 March 2008 14:03

To: Brainwise

Subject: Gabriel the Penguin

Hi Colleen

I have placed a photo of Gabriel Penguin swimming on the website. He is now eating

like a very healthy little penguin and his weight has increased from 940 g to1.5 kg.

He has adapted well to the rehab centre and his biggest friends are Shorty and

Mandy. They are like a real little band of beggars – as soon as anybody enters the

rehab, they start making begging sounds and they follow you around as if they

expect to be fed hourly.

Hope you are keeping well, send our regards and love to the real little Gabriel.

Trudi

Instead of rescuing penguins, I take my first hesitant steps towards warrior and start a

foundation, desperate to try to find some meaning and purpose for Gabes’ life by

building awareness for foetal alcohol syndrome. I call it the Flutterby Foundation41.

Figure 7.1: The logo for the foundation

41 www.flutterbyfoundation.co.za

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My message on the website is harsh.

Our aim is to prevent every child from being deprived of his or her right to full

intellectual capacity, physical wellness (wholeness) and emotional balance.

ANY alcohol in pregnancy is TOXIC. Drinking alcohol in pregnancy

intentionally is a wilful act of malicious irresponsibility.

We choose to try to make a difference.

People ask me if I am angry with his birth mother. I have never felt any anger towards

her. I know she is the victim of her dysfunctional environment and upbringing, in the

same way that Gabriel will always be the victim of her actions. I am angry, however,

that this beautiful child will never think and act and manifest all the magnificent

possibilities that are available to any child taken into a family with resources and

support and healthy lifestyle choices. I know I am not responsible for her life, and I feel

no resentment.

7.5.4 Family of four

Abigail is the sister that I became to my brother once we knew he was ill. She protects

Gabes but is also challenged by him. Although she develops an overdose of empathy

for any broken creature, she finds it difficult to cope with his socially inappropriate

behaviour. Abi feels that I don’t discipline him enough. She’s probably right. His

inability to hold more than one or two items in his short-term memory means I give

Gabriel greater leeway than I might have done with a cognitively more competent child.

Gabriel is so willing to please and cannot bear conflict, so I tend to err on the side of

leniency. I pay for this in the later years.

My patience does not always extend to paying attention to Gabes’ incessant chatter,

when he repeats the same things over and over. On the long, long list of ‘symptoms’

of FAS it is called perseveration. Gabes’ dad spends hours on the patio with him, or

driving in the car, listening to all of Gabes’ talking and answering him patiently. Gabriel

obsesses over different things at different times – from trains, to horses, to cows, to

Broadway musicals and the theatre. His dad takes Gabes to watch the Lipizzaner

horses perform weekend after weekend and patiently watches Burlesque, Chicago,

and Cabaret over and over again. Gabriel knows every word of the musicals Cats and

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Wicked, yet he can barely read or write. I bury myself in my studies and my sport, but

it is my attention that Gabriel wants. His dad is my backstop and relieves me from the

fanatical passions that Gabes develops - and the incessant chatter. I watch them

together and reflect that this is a relationship that is probably the only easy one his

dad has to navigate, which kind of makes it magical.

I inhabit the role of guide and support for Gabes, as I anticipate a complex and

uncertain future, growling menacingly at the bullies in the playground and going head-

to-head with punitive teachers and headmasters. Once I spend some weeks fighting

with a well-known church minister, who, I believe, victimises Gabriel. He tells me that

my son cannot learn the words for the church play and must sit offstage and manage

the props. I am horrified. My child is funny, creative and theatrical. He is also well loved

by the other parents and most of the kids. Not, notably, by the minister’s two

malevolent (in my opinion) adolescent sons. I lose that battle and, at the same time,

my belief in a Christian god. Instead, I win the name my kids call me: Lioness Mom. I

am overly protective of my children, perhaps trying to fix my pain of not belonging?

Gabes’ disability gives me a compelling prod to confront my dragons and step into my

warrior identity. Standing up for him means resisting the need to fit in and belong. I

begin, at the age of 40, to fight for my place in the world, while all the while believing

that I am fighting for Gabriel’s. I also make a choice that I will never say no to anything

that scares me again.

7.5.5 Stepping into warrior

The spokes of my wheels are irregular, and the bicycle is faltering. It is about to take

on a whole new energy. I have the spokes of childhood and adolescence, held with

the rims of low self-esteem, mental illness, divorce and suicide. The spokes of

parenting and marriage and career are interspersed with adoption and brain damage

and perceived unattractiveness. Now spurred by the catalyst of discovering my son is

vulnerable, I take the first hesitant steps towards discovering my purpose and

potential. I begin to ride my bicycle with mindful presence; with determination and of

transformation.

Suffering for years with crippling period pain, I eventually have a hysterectomy.

Determined to discover what great health and a good body image feel like, I give up

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smoking and start exercising, walking for hours around my suburb, beginning with a

few slow kilometres and eventually striding along the roads for five, even ten

kilometres every day. I regain some of the dramatic weight I dropped with the

combined shocks of Martin’s death and being suddenly handed a screaming infant,

and then a few years later, a baby in a full-body plaster cast.

Eventually I graduate to running and enter a 10-kilometre fun run; I buy a bike. My clip-

in shoes and fancy pedals cause me to fall down many times until, finally, mastering

the art of cleating in and out, I venture out on a cold winter evening to the Kyalami

Racetrack, terrified by the risk and the unknown. I conquer it, loving the feeling of flying

down the ‘mineshaft’ at 80 km per hour.

I meet a wealthy, confident and successful man at the racetrack. He rides up behind

me as I am pedalling furiously through a corner and says, “You know that your bike is

too big for you?”

“I know, and I don’t care.” I laugh.

We chat for the next four laps until the sun begins to set. Standing beside our cars,

sipping our cokes, he offers me a bike – he says it is a spare one he has at home.

“I couldn’t,” I reply with a smile, “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

He is married and so am I and I don’t even know him. He is also charming and

persuasive and the next day I find myself meeting him at the bike shop where he gives

me my first proper racing bike. It is red and beautiful. He organises for me to have it

set up correctly at the shop. He becomes a friend and confidante for many years.

I run a half marathon and then a full marathon and I enter the Comrades – an 89 km

ultra-marathon. The crazy idea of doing a triathlon finds me standing beside the water

of Bronkhorstspruit Dam, shivering with terror. Broad-shouldered, amazon triathletes

dive confidently into the water when the whistle blows. I dash in with them, gasp for

air, swallow water, start choking only to spend the rest of the swim on my back trying

to stay afloat. Afterwards, I swear that I will never do another triathlon again.

I sign up for swimming lessons and eventually compete in an Iron Man competition (a

3.8 km swim in the sea, 180 km bike ride and 42 km run). Participating in three Iron

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Man events and many ultra-distance marathons, long-distance swims and bike rides,

I transition from a smoker- and lazy-couch-potato, to endurance athlete at age 40 –

an unexpected transformation to the sports-loving person I had had no idea existed

within me. A love affair with my bicycle, with mountains and adventure begins, climbing

Kilimanjaro42 and then Everest Base Camp, with my daughter Abi. I zip-line43 through

forests and hike in remote geographies, travel in helicopters and tiny planes over

waterfalls and oceans and in foreign places. I try out sailing and gliding, relax on

ocean-liners and catch trains across snow-drenched mountains. Hungry for new

experiences and tasting the wonder of challenge and excitement, I begin to breathe in

the world passionately and vigorously.

Reflection September 2005 age 39 – Kilimanjaro

Excited, terrified, disconnected, anticipatory – on the airplane for two-and-a-half hours,

flying over a blanket of cloud covering Africa. Overwhelmed, but touched by this

awesome continent, knowing that soon I’m going to be a part of its spirit, the spirit of

Kilimanjaro.

The Volcano on Kilimanjaro, called Kibo, last erupted 100 000 years ago, so at least

volcanic activity is unlikely during our climb. At present it is a dormant, active volcano.

The climatic zones we will cross, range from equatorial to arctic. In general, the

temperature decreases steadily by about one degree with every 200 m gained in

altitude. The best months to ascend Kibo are January, February, and September

because of the harsh weather conditions during the other months. Kilimanjaro is the

highest freestanding mountain in the world and one of the largest volcanoes to ever

burst through the earth’s crust. On a clear day it can be seen from 160 km away and

although only three degrees below the Equator, the peak has a permanent ice-cap

(although this is rapidly disappearing due to global warming.) This is our mountain that

is our Uhuru (freedom).

42 Kilimanjaro – the highest mountain in Africa lying between Tanzania and Kenya. 43 Zip-line – an outdoor activity where you are strapped into a harness which is attached to a cable

that runs through the treetops of a forested area.

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7.6 FINDING COURAGE

The bright and dark spokes of my experiences are haphazardly attached to the rim of

the wheel as I veer from tragedy to success and back to tragedy. I find a new way of

defining myself, a new shape emerging. The spokes of misfit and uncertainty still

define the wheel, but now the tears and the lessons and the adventures of the warrior

compel it to become vibrant, multifaceted and true.

7.6.1 Surrounded by death

On 7 April 2009, two days after my second Iron Man, Dad invites me for coffee. The

inner strength and positive nature that I have inherited needs to be present that day in

us both. Dad, focused and resilient, wears a sombre cloak of sadness. A light dimmed

in him the day his son died, but he faced forward, never complaining, suffering one

calamity after the next. The business he started, to give Martin security, floundered in

the downturn in the construction industry in the nineties, aided by a deceitful scoundrel

or two in the business. Losing his wealth overlapped with the departure of his new wife

who he had loved so much and the deterioration in his health. He is now living in a

rented two-bedroom cottage with his beloved Jack Russel terrier, Buttons.

We sit in the early spring sunshine, in his small garden, bird-feeders swaying aided by

the flapping wings of excited, chattering birds.

“Col, I have a brain tumour,” he says. The day’s warmth turns icy.

A week later my husband and I move Dad and his belongings into the studio attached

to my house. For four months and four days, we care for him as he gradually fades. I

fight helplessness by keeping busy, organising hospice nurses and wheelchairs and

adult nappies. Kind and concerned, my husband hovers in the background, moving

furniture and taking over the running of our household. Abi, when she comes home

from boarding school on the weekends, sits with her ‘Papa’, showing him photography

projects, discussing cameras and apertures and shutter speeds.

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Photograph 8: My dad and Abi a month before he died

On the fewer and fewer occasions that Dad is strong enough to sit outside, Gabriel,

Dad’s ‘little soldier’ entertains him with hula hoop tricks. Too soon, his decline

becomes rapid, and I sit with him almost all the time until the end, and he takes his

last breath on this earth. I will never feel completely okay again. My dad was my

strength and my role model.

Reflection: 11 August 2009 – an excerpt from my journal

The nurse from the hospice said to me that some people need space to die. It is a

private experience. She suggested that I give Dad this space. It's hard. Every part of

me needs to touch, adjust, love, calm, stroke Dad – to keep him alive. She also said I

must "give him permission" to die. I'm standing on the driveway talking to her and I

can feel the warmth of the winter sun trying to touch me, but the world is cold. I

remember walking back into my dad's room, kneeling next to the bed and putting my

face next to Dad's and saying: "It's ok Dad. I'm going to be ok; Abi will be ok. You need

to go and join Martin now." Dad doesn't react.

I sit in the room next to Dad where I can watch him, but not in his line of sight.

Immediately Dad's breaths start to lengthen and slow. About five minutes later the

breaths are deep, the spaces between getting longer. I hold my breath in time with his,

almost gasping, and then he, finally, takes a breath again.

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I think Dad has gone, then he breathes deeply one last time, and his eyes fly wide

open. From where I am, I can see the vivid blue of his eyes. As deep and rich as they

were when he was the father throwing me from his shoulders into the swimming pool,

not the pale, lustreless colour of the last few months.

He looks straight ahead. I get up and close his eyes. My dad's spirit has gone.

The strongest and most influential person in my life has gone. The morning after, as I

open my car door, I notice a beautiful and unusual feather on top of my car. A dear

friend, a deeply spiritual shaman, tells me that feathers are messages from visiting

angels. Ever since, feathers have symbolised for me my dad and my brother’s

presence in my life. It seems like the difficult yet exciting journey I have travelled since

that time has been supported and directed, almost miraculously. Eagles and feathers.

Photograph 9: A white feather.

7.6.2 Discovering the inner scholar

Dad only saw the beginning of my academic and career transformation, as I battled to

get my psychology undergraduate and postgraduate degrees through Unisa, while

running my beauty salon from home and raising my two children. Four years before

he died, I am astounded when a beauty salon client, Margie Oshry, director of the

British International College, asks me to lecture their A-level Psychology course. I

remember being in awe of Sarah Brown, the girl from our class who had gone on to

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do A-levels after matric. I always thought Sarah must be remarkably smart to do A-

levels.

Panicked and sleeping badly for the entire December, I immerse myself in piles of

psychology textbooks on a Cape Town beach while looking after a mute baby in a

plaster cast. Speaking in public petrified me and I was terrified to stand up in front of

a class of 18-year olds.

In January, after gulping down a strong cup of coffee in the staff room, I walk

apprehensively into my first class of six students. With a high-pitched, wavering and

breathless voice I introduce myself. They are kind and, somehow, I keep their attention

as we discuss Tajfel’s experiments in intergroup discrimination. By the time we are

halfway through the year and learning about Sperry’s split-brain experiments, I have

revved my presence in the classroom and, finally, step into my calling as a teacher.

Excited and loving this new journey, I decide to develop a study skills course. This

somehow links me to Dad, who, in his desperation to help his awkward daughter gain

confidence, had sent me on a learning and motivation course by Tony Buzan. Dad

had attended with me and together we had thrilled at the art of mind mapping, speed

reading and creativity. I register my small business and call it Brainwise. The brain

theme still weaving through my life: my son’s mental disability, Dad’s brain tumour and

now a brain training business.

There is a fire burning inside me, ignited by discovering that my son is irreparably

disabled. A need to find a sense of meaning and purpose and make a difference in

the world is kindled by the traumatic and emotional experiences that seem to be

reverberating constantly. I discover that when I am counselling and teaching, I feel

important.

Reflection

In retrospect, I have been travelling unknowingly towards this point for years. When

Martin is diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I feel the need to be enabled in the face of

such a devastating psychiatric diagnosis. I act by enrolling in a crisis-counselling

course with the 702 Crisis Centre. I attend a grief counselling course after Martin dies

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and then become involved in addiction work with SANCA (South African National

Council on Alcohol and Drug Dependence).

Martin and I start the Bipolar Association and then I take over the running of it for a

year after he dies until the constant reminder of Martin’s condition becomes too sad,

and I hand it over to the South African Depression and Anxiety Support Group.

When my Mom and my stepdad, Ian, are involved in a terribly traumatic robbery, I join

the Trauma Unit at my local police station. While enjoying a traditional dinner party

with their best friends in a tranquil home in a country estate in northern Johannesburg,

they were terrified when five armed men crashed into the silver, antique and crystal

glass elegance of their home. Guns to their heads, the friends were forced to lie down

and hand over their valuables. As the criminals left, the last man put the barrel of a

gun to their friend’s head and pulled the trigger. In the hours after, Mom kept saying

to me that the blood was like a river and the smell, intensely suffocating. The chaos

and the fear and the horror will live in their minds forever. A helicopter managed to

land on their property and Ron, their friend was taken to the Sunninghill Hospital where

he fought for his life in ICU for weeks. He lived.

I feel helpless in the experience of my Mom and Ian’s ordeal – so I take another course

through the Douglasdale Trauma Unit44 and start to do pro bono work with trauma,

grief, and addiction counselling. This has become my coping mechanism whenever I

feel helpless. Take a course and help others.

The teaching, Brainwise and counselling leads me to the discovery of the profession

of coaching. After an intensive coach training course, that costs a fortune, the lead

trainer acknowledges me. “It was like you stepped into a house that you had always

owned, but never knew, or seen before.” I had found my craft and my talent.

For the next few years, I add the spokes of coach, counsellor, trainer, assessor and

mentor to my career wheel as I play, work, eat and breathe human well-being,

performance, and motivation. My friend MJ lights another fire in me as she develops

44 This is a trauma support group attached to the Douglasdale police station that supports victims of

trauma in the north of Johannesburg

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me as her lead trainer in her neuroleadership and coaching business. As my career

grows, so does my confidence and my bank account; a pleasant, unintended side

effect of living with purpose. Another unexpected gift is the ability to inspire people. I

step into my new role with trepidation, gratitude, and wonder.

The next spoke that takes three years to be embedded is the Personal and

Professional Leadership master’s programme at the University of Johannesburg. The

programme reflects my passion, and my newfound ability to transform and inspire and

I fall love with being a student: researching and writing and learning. I am awarded my

postgraduate certificate in Neuroleadership through Middlesex University at the same

time as I complete my master’s degree, the study of the brain becoming a passion that

crafts my new identity. Every academic step I take is a step from worrier to warrior. I

imagine my dad watching; smiling, proud of his daughter who had failed Standard 9

and dropped out of university twice. Mom comments constantly in her restrained way,

showing how proud she is: “I don’t know where you come from!”

7.6.3 Global trainer

MJ calls me up one day.

“David needs an assistant for a program he is running with Microsoft India, Col. I have

recommended you.”

My mind spins. David Rock: writer, global icon and neuroscience guru who created

the field of Neuroleadership. Once again, I am the gawky kid in the playground, never

imagining that I could be important. I breathe in hard-earned confidence and spend

yet another December working and preparing, although this time next to a river, and

not a beach, at Merry Pebbles resort,45 determined to prove myself worthy to my idol.

This I apparently did, because, after the programme David offers me an opportunity in

Singapore ‒ the first of many trips I undertake to South East Asia. Soon I am showered

with work doing webinars and telecons in the United States, Europe, Japan and

Australia. I start to travel extensively through Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia and

45 Merry Pebbles in Mpumalanga – a camping resort next to a river.

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Thailand, the US, Africa and Europe, as well as helping at Neuroleadership Summits46

in Boston and New York. My love of neuroscience grows and expands. I will always

be grateful to my friend MJ for believing in me. My knowledge in this new field gives

me credibility, and an ability that facilitates my career. I laugh when I am referred to

as ‘The Brain Guru’ in my blog and on TV and radio stations and in keynote talks at

conferences.

While my warrior journey progresses, however, there is a part of my life that is steadily

collapsing. My marriage is disintegrating, and I am only vaguely aware of it. I thought

we were living the dream as I began to make a success of my life, taking exciting trips

overseas, not worrying about money, even thinking about moving to a beautiful home

in the country.

7.6.4 My marriage implodes

I did not realise that my husband was not walking beside me. Loneliness is once again

to become my confidante and bleak companion. On 7 April 2011, two years to the day

after I find out that my dad has terminal cancer, I discover that my marriage is a lie

and that I have lived for 20 years not really knowing the person I had married. April is

a cold month, the beginning of winter, heralding sad changes in my life. A web of

illusion – smoke and mirrors – created through my conditioned attempt to be a good

wife and mother and to have the ‘right’ kind of family, to fit in, is revealed.

The stitching begins to unravel late in the afternoon. Sitting opposite me at my dining

room table, a sweet-faced young financial advisor tells me, “I cannot find any of the

funds you say are in your financial portfolio.”

In that moment I know what I have been avoiding knowing for the past three years. My

husband has been playing poker with our finances and later explains: “I thought it

would come right.”

But in that moment in April, I know my marriage is unsalvageable.

46 Neuroleadership Summit – an annual conference held in various parts of the world that brings

experts in the field of Leadership and Neuroscience together in collaborative presentations.

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After a silent and sleepless night, I park outside the bank that holds our mortgage. It

is nine in the morning. I call my trusted friend, Sally, and tell her that I have, finally,

realised that my marriage is over. My friends have been suggesting this to me for

years, but I haven’t been listening.

“I’ll just wait till Abi finishes matric, Sal – then I’ll leave,” I tell her.

“So, Col, what you are telling me is that you are teaching your daughter that you don't

have the courage to face trouble head on?” she replies. “You prefer to put your life on

hold. And pretend?”

Her statement makes me think hard. I walk into the bank and, as expected, discover

that the bond on my house has escalated from low figures into the hundreds of

thousands of rand. I breathe slowly and deeply, sad and confused. Strangely, at the

same time, a mist is clearing, and I sense a new panorama in front of me that I have

to, and can, learn to navigate.

As the weeks unfold, so does the extent of my ignorance. Now I am faced with the

pain of betrayal and loneliness and acknowledging my part in that reality. Taking over

as the responsible and strong partner, disappearing into the fluorescent triumph of my

success and running from my pain by trying to rescue others from theirs, I had never

held my husband accountable.

The Long Bag We Drag Behind Us – Robert Bly

The story says then that when we put a part of ourselves in the bag it regresses. It de-

evolves toward barbarism. Suppose a young man seals a bag at twenty and then waits

fifteen or twenty years before he opens it again. What will he find? Sadly, the sexuality,

the wildness, the impulsiveness, the anger, the freedom he put in have all regressed;

they are not only primitive in mood, they are hostile to the person who opens the bag.

The man who opens his bag at forty-five or the woman who opens her bag rightly feels

fear. She glances up and sees the shadow of an ape passing along the alley wall;

anyone seeing that would be frightened (Bly & Booth 2008, p.19).

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The breakdown of my marriage and my dreams of the future had been happening

without me realising it. Masterful at avoiding a difficult situation, I always found diverse

distractions: tobogganing in dormitories when I felt lonely and alienated; counselling

others when it was me that felt unsure; leaving varsity to look after Dad, when really

the social life terrified me. Now, I discovered a truth that I could not avoid. After a few

years of struggling to connect with and work with my husband, reality smashed into

my face leaving me metaphorically bruised, bloodied, dazed and a lot poorer

financially.

Completely entranced by the man I met at the racetrack years earlier, I had developed

an intense friendship with him. Although never a physical relationship, this

understandably caused a deep insecurity in my husband. Eventually, I ended the

friendship because of the chaos it was causing in my marriage and the discomfort of

weighing sexual chemistry against integrity. The cracks, however, created by me and

my husband, were irreparable.

The next few weeks are a blur. With heavy hearts, my husband and I and the kids fly

to Cape Town where I compete in the Two Ocean’s ultra-marathon47. A sad and

difficult trip, where I don’t think we keep up much of a pretence in front of the children.

They seem bewildered and we are a quiet group of four. From there, desperately ill

with bronchitis, I go to Singapore on a business trip and then come home to begin

unravelling 22 years of marriage.

Interestingly, my ‘chemistry connection’ friend that had initially exposed the cracks in

my marriage, hears via the grapevine what I am going through and offers to let me

stay at his home – a luxurious and safe haven on an equestrian estate in the country.

He lives with his wife in Switzerland, so I gratefully move into his South African home

with my children in June. There I begin the process of learning to live alone, and I take

a deep breath as I face a painful, uncertain future, albeit in geographic grandeur.

Reflection – my journal 11 July 2012

I feel so burdened, so bewildered, so alone. I am fully responsible for these two kids

– financially, emotionally, practically, psychologically. I pray that this nightmare will

47 Two Oceans Marathon – a 56 km road race held in Cape Town

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end. My heart is always sore, my shoulders are always heavy and there is no respite,

but deeply grateful for the few friendships and support that I have. Apart from one or

two messages every now and again, few really care. Who is there to listen to me

unravel the tangle of thoughts and experiences that this marriage has knotted together

and put their arm around me and tell me that it will be alright? Who will take my hand

and guide me when I falter; support me when my legs feel like they cannot carry me

anymore?

My worst fear coming true. Alone.

I need to breathe in some fire, some courage, and determination. I need to begin to

walk this journey with my shoulders back and my spine strong. No doubts; trust myself

because I AM the best mom in the world to these kids. They know that I will never fail

them. They know that I am the one they can always depend on.

I need to let go of this grip on my throat that this monster of alone-ness has on me!

Protracted and unpleasant divorce proceedings see us putting up our fists and fighting

the ‘I am right, and you are wrong” fight. Expensive lawyers get involved, scrapping

over what little is left. Eventually, exhausted after nearly five years, we agree to get

out of the fraught legal contortions and find a manageable, if not acceptable,

resolution. On 24 January 2014, I am, finally, divorced. Scarred and tired and still

alone. But free.

7.6.5 Death, betrayal, loneliness and a sprinkling of adventure.

During the three years on the estate, which I call my ‘triple annus horriblis’. I reel from

tragedy to success and back to tragedy. On Monday morning early, while preparing to

train an Exco team in Vereeniging at a steel smelting company, breathing in the rotten-

egg smell of the factory, I see my phone light up.

“Strange”, I think, “Dave never calls, it is usually Jen that does?”. The news is

devastating. Jenny, Dave’s sister, my dearest cousin and one of my best friends is

dead. Diagnosed with breast cancer on Thursday, she has chemo on the Friday and

two days later collapses with an embolism in her lung and dies in agony late that night.

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Too numb to cry, my heart breaking, I once again step into the empty, surreal space

reserved for the newly grieving. In the eulogy at her funeral, I say: “It is a humble

privilege to be able to honour my beloved cousin and friend, Jennifer. I wish with all

my heart that I was not standing here saying this eulogy. It does not feel right or fair

that Jen has gone from our lives.”

Jenny was 44, with a four-year-old son. I then lose another close cousin to suicide.

Too many people are dying, but stubbornly I resist falling apart, riding my bike furiously

and working outrageous hours across different time zones to make as much money

as I can. I take the kids on a dream holiday to London and Edinburgh where we

experience snow and laughter and wonder, and excitement interspersed with Gabriel’s

vicious panic attacks on wind-blown cable cars and in foreign cities. Back home, the

dark and lonely nights intrude. Feeling deserted and censured by my family who

cannot understand why I left my marriage, and soon forget about me far away on the

swanky estate, I am weighed down by heavy responsibility, trying to escape the pain

by being adventurous.

Clarissa Pinkola Estés (2008) Women Who Run With the Wolves

The psyches and souls of women also have their own cycles and seasons of doing

and solitude, running and staying, being involved and being removed, questing and

resting, creating and incubating, being of the world and returning to the soul-place.

I limp through those years reading every self-help book I can, learning from the

coaching I am doing to help others, engaging in intense therapeutic conversations with

a professional psychologist and doing some unrelenting and harsh self-reflection. My

wise therapist refers me to a book called Women who run with Wolves. We speak

about healers and shaman and Sangomas and Nyanga’s48. South African traditional

healers speak of a Twasa, a rigorous life journey filled with pain and challenges and

hardship; that sees personal suffering as an essential part of the journey to wisdom,

48 Shaman – a person regarded as having access to the world of the spirits

Sangoma’s – traditional Healers in South Africa Nyanga’s – spiritual and traditional South African healer

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peace, and the ability to heal and help others. I start to make sense of, and find a

reason for, the intensely sad personal experiences of my life.

Finally, I start to make the most profound personal shift of all, as I begin to understand

that I have spent my life rescuing and pleasing others, self-sacrificing because I have

never felt good enough or that I belonged. Confronting the harsh reality that I have

attracted betrayal and loss many times through my lack of self-worth. I have to

discover my strength before I can start to stand in my truth and cross my personal Iron

Man finishing tape.

It is time to claim back my old name, Colleen Lightbody, once again, but this time

healed, wiser, tougher and perhaps more of the true me!

7.7 TAKING CONTROL

7.7.1 Mindfully facing forward

Two friends take turns sitting on the other end of a phone line, or on a bicycle – while

I pour out my heartache – hoping that I will emerge phoenix-like from the ashes of

despair my universe has conjured up. I hold on to the determination that my kids, and

I will emerge tougher and wiser, but also knowing we may still have to face some

psychological fallout in the future.

Photograph 10: And then we were three again

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Reflection: I write in my journal – July 2013

Every evening, welcomed by the small jackal49 that roam the estate, I walk in this

beautiful garden. I take off my shoes – a ritual - and feel the scratchy greenness of the

kikuyu on the soles of my feet. My heart feels the beauty of the sunset and fills me

with gratitude for my life and for the gifts so abundantly afforded me. Mostly, I also just

feel sad.

Abi and I grow closer as we share responsibility for Gabriel on our adventures. Crying

often and messily, I learn to be vulnerable. The tears I never shed when my brother

died, and when I discovered I cannot have biological children, and forgot to shed

through the exhaustion and fear as I lay awake with my son in his plaster cast resting

on my body, are now shed. The tears I never dared release for this boy who should

have a wonderful life but instead suffers the vulnerability and uncertainty of a damaged

brain; for my dad, enduring the indignity of a lingering death to brain cancer; for the

discovery of the lies and deceit that ended 21 years of marriage; for the horror of

discovering my financial security has disappeared and for the lonely nights I have

faced and that still lie ahead, these are my tears. Abi quietly sits near me until I feel

calmer. One Christmas dinner, Gabes says grace.

“Dear God. Thank you for the food and the presents and my family. And God – please

stop my Mom from crying.”

I eventually do.

I ride my bike, 100 km and 200 km rides on weekends. Every morning, I ride through

Johannesburg in the crimson light of dawn, on icy, slippery streets in winter and

through purple jacaranda leaves in summer. I embark on a few 600 km rides to Durban

and a special ride after Madiba50 died, when we rode to Nelson Mandela Bridge, to his

house in Houghton and Nelson Mandela Square in Sandton – witnessing and being a

49 Jackal – a small carnivorous animal related to the wolf and the wild dog 50 Madiba – an affectionate name used in South Africa for Nelson Mandela. It is the name of his

Xhosa clan.

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part of his final farewell. The words of his favourite poem, Invictus, resonate as I think

about my most revered hero:

I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul

I run almost every day to contain my sadness and strengthen my brain when the fear

narrative gets too overwhelming. I start gliding lessons, and flirt with the idea of getting

my glider pilot licence, get brave and go on thrilling motorcycle rides through the cradle

of humankind – hanging on to a friend for dear life – terrified and exhilarated and

escaping the tumult of day-to-day life.

Abi and Everest

A happy teenager and a confident young adult, Abi sets off on her post-matric

adventure to Singapore, Nepal and Cambodia just before the Chinese New Year.

Going on your adventures is easy; watching your child jump alone into the unknown

is terrifying! After meeting my Singaporean friend, Christina (they discover a mutual

love of shopping) and being accompanied by Father Richard to the nunnery in

Kathmandu,51 Abi spends the next few months putting her handprint onto the nuns’

and the orphans’ lives. Finally, I meet them, and the nuns tell me what a special, strong

and wise human being I have raised. I do not take the credit because sometimes I

think she raised herself. After meeting with the nuns, Abi and I embark on a lifelong

dream adventure of mine. We walk to Base Camp Everest together, a time of reflection

and connection. As I turn the prayer wheels in the villages and walk the rope bridges,

fluttering with colourful Tibetan flags, I find a peace I have not known for a long time.

Later that year, when Abi is back in South Africa, we meet her biological family, a

meeting that is poignant, yet strangely liberating for both of us. That meeting is her

story to tell, when and if she wishes.

Abi heads off to university where she completes a BSc and then an honours degree

in neurophysiology. We love telling how she is adopted, but we are more alike than

most biological moms and daughters. We also fight and have some tough times

navigating our new adult relationship, but always with great love anchoring our journey

51 Kathmandu – the capital of Nepal where Abi spent months living in the nunnery.

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as mother and daughter. The third person in our little family, Gabriel, always our

purpose.

Photograph 11: Abigail and I with our flag at Base Camp

Growing with Gabes

Gabriel spends our first year in the countryside shakily navigating his new world, not

managing the uncertainty. Relying on a variety of helpers and au pairs, I travel and

work to regain our lost financial security. Gabriel’s terrible panic attacks still leave us

shaken by their intensity. Abi and I learn to handle them with patience and

resourcefulness. Afterward, Gabes is contrite, and we reassure him as we try to

remain positive. Although these attacks become fewer through the years, the

emotional and psychological damage they leave behind for all three of us is lasting.

I take Gabriel to horse and holiday camps, enrol him in acting and dancing classes;

anything to help him develop friendships. This boy who so desperately wants to be

loved has to navigate a world that does not tolerate differences. He grapples with his

sexuality and gender identity, and his difficulty with learning. Although we have a

strong bond, he connects with no one else. He loves me unconditionally and yet he

does not trust people. I have no peace in my heart about Gabriel’s future. He is just

too different for this world, but he is a hula-hoop champion!

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Photograph 12: Gabriel – hula hoop champion!

Technicolour tumult

The turbulence continues – seemingly balancing the good with the bad. Curiously, my

universe seems to be simultaneously challenging and supporting me. A cousin, who

became a trusted companion and advisor after my divorce, betrays our friendship by

stealing and selling the few assets I have left. I have a devastating argument with my

mother – an angry, vicious fight that shakes us to our core. It takes six months for us

to speak again. We do, though, and the volcanic intensity of this fight unexpectedly

releases me from nearly 50 years of needing my parents’ approval and letting go of

my unknown childhood resentment about not ‘matching up’ to the expectations of a

‘perfect’ family. My relationship with my mother grows into a healthy and respectful

maturity.

A significant rite of passage is an Ayahuaska ceremony52 I daringly attend with a South

American shaman. Not one to experiment with mind-altering substances or ‘weird’

spiritual rituals, my sadness pushes me to desperate measures. We sip a foul-tasting,

herbal concoction that assaults my brain with technicolour visions. Amidst

hallucinogenic flashes, I experience deep loss and sadness in some inexplicable

52 Ayahuaska ceremony – involves drinking a hallucinogenic tea under the guidance of a shaman.

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cathartic delirium. Something, however, is released in me and once again I cry. For

two weeks I am unable to stop the sobs and the river of pain. Then suddenly, I feel the

world has changed colour and, instead of the patches of dark, of continuous struggle

and inadequacy, I feel a glow of hope and joy that may mean the experience of a new,

stronger bike ride.

Claiming my professional identity

Professionally, my career moves in a positive direction over the next few years. I

become the master trainer for the Neuroleadership group. I travel around the world

and South Africa, building my expertise on the brain and my confidence to speak in

public. I experience mind-blowing adventures. I fly in a tiny aircraft across Namibia, to

Oranjemund.53 There I board a Russian Sikorsky helicopter54 and am flown across the

Skeleton Coast to the diamond drilling ships. Landing on the helipad, I fly from ship to

ship – talking, meeting and inspiring the crew. I spend the nights on board, getting to

know these tough sailors, who have their own tragic tales to tell me.

Photograph 13: One morning I run around the helipad that leans out over the sea,

with the captain of the ship taking photographs

53 Oranjemund – a small town on the skeleton coast of Namibia. 54 Sikorsky helicopter – a Russian-built helicopter.

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Interview in the Neuroleadership Newsletter, December 2013.

What was the weirdest place you trained this year?

Definitely riding the Anaconda55 at Gold Reef City,56 with the senior execs of Tsogo

Sun – a great practical application of adrenalin and its impact on the brain.

Staying in a hotel in Botswana with freshly dug graves in the cemetery right outside

my window. A mild flirt with ghostly adrenalin.

Not weird, but fantastic: the opportunities to explore the places I stayed. Running in

Paarl at 37 degrees; in Swaziland, staying in the Botanical Gardens; in Gaborone, so

flat I had to find an ant hill to climb; Windhoek, running in the mountains, dodging low

flying aircraft; Stellenbosch, sneaking in a run in the break between lectures; parking

at OR Tambo airport and going for a run so that I will catch my flight on time; washing

in the Engen garage bathrooms after a ride before donning the high heels and

business suit to train all day at Virgin or Redefine or ArcelorMittal or Internet Solutions.

Manifesting work in Cape Town so I can legitimately compete in the Argus cycle race.

This included a run on the sand dunes in Langebaan. Training on a telecom from a

dodgy hotel in Kathmandu and a five-star one in Singapore. Maybe the best were the

runs in Central Park, while attending the Neuroleadership Summit in New York with

MJ. The colours of the autumn leaves and nearly missing the taxi for the airport

because I got lost in the park and thought that west was east – and MJ was as cool

as cucumber. She says she trusts me!

And the interview in 2014

What were the highlights of the year for you?

I am made the managing director of the Neuroleadership Group SA. To paraphrase

Dr Seuss: I have trained on a run, on a bike, on a plane and in a train. I have been to

wine farms and iron smelting plants; to adventure theme parks, Namibian lodges,

apple farms in the Cape, to waterfalls along the Zambezi; from Arizona to North-west

province. From Israel, to India – and back to Africa. Fifty-six flights in all – not for the

55 Anaconda – a roller coaster ride 56 Gold Reef City – a pleasure resort with a funfair in the south of Johannesburg

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faint hearted! Natal sugar mills and Singaporean financial giants, Thai temples, and

Mumbai hotels; music rooms and libraries; beaches and forests. A message I posted

on Facebook in July: “Yesterday I coached people in Moscow, Nairobi, the Ukraine,

London, St Petersburg, the Czech Republic, Johannesburg, Mumbai and Singapore.”

How’s that for a global practice? I guess I’m pretty lucky!

Many talks later, as well as lecturing for various university business schools, designing

programmes, running my Brainwise courses and webinars and workshops in

Singapore and North America and through Africa, I have learnt to speak in public –

facing a great dragon! Fear, however, is ever-present, and it mostly centres on

Gabriel’s future and being alone to navigate it.

As I begin to prepare my proposal for my PhD, I decide I am going to not only write

but also live the experience. I treat myself to a trip to San Francisco (the dollar/rand

exchange leaving me gasping for air); a week spent listening to the teaching of Eckhart

Tolle, a modern-day guru on the topic of conscious living, which is at the heart of my

thesis. He is inspirational and powerful. I alternate between absorbing his wisdom and

riding a city bike around the Monterey Peninsula and confess to falling asleep

frequently in his meditation classes.

Photograph 14: One of the training groups in India.

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I fly into Johannesburg and straight out again to Bangalore, India for more coaching

magic.

Then a new adventure as I stand in front of a room of 110 people to deliver three days

of David Rock’s powerful new programme in Israel. First delivery in Zichron, near

Haifa, and the next a couple of months later in Tel Aviv. I go for runs with Israelis in

both cities and both times I experience the connection to a hardened culture, and the

white-out of a desert sandstorm – supposedly an ‘unusual’ meteorological

phenomenon. It feels like a metaphor for the blinding and stressful political challenges

of the region and my life too. I lead the same programme in Phoenix Arizona in

November and am lucky enough to be located right around the corner from my

stepsister, who has had only one visitor from South Africa after 24 years of living in

the United States. We spend a few wonderful days touring the deserts of Arizona and

sitting as close to each other as we can. Now that is a gift!

Me and Dr Seuss

And, finally, we find a home that I call my ‘sacred place’, after being pushed out of the

comfort of the swanky estate house of the friend I had met on Kyalami racetrack. We

have terrible argument that comes out of the blue. Being accused of not being grateful

and worse, is profoundly painful to me. Shaken straight back into the self-doubting,

small acne-riddled adolescent, it takes every part of my new-found self-belief to trust

myself in the face of a vicious personal attack. Abi and I happily, although a little

fearfully, start to look for a new home. Miraculously, the sweetest little three-story

townhouse becomes ours within a matter of weeks. We call it our “Dr Seuss” home

due its higgledy-piggledy, whimsical design. The speed and the aptness of our new

purchase reassures me that I am following a sure and good path for me and my kids.

Cycling and running always play a central part in my life. I am made ‘head girl’ of my

cycling club – an honour bestowed mostly because I am always on all the rides, and

perhaps a little bossy? The club fills the lonely times with companionship and

camaraderie. As I have been a volunteer group leader for many years and am

passionately committed to developing safe cycling on our dangerous roads, coupled

with the fact that I am unafraid of a microphone, the club decides to raise my status,

so I can make the announcements at the club rides. I often reflect on the muddled

adolescent I was, who was not prefect material at school.

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A new man joins our cycling committee and I find I am attracted to him. This is the first

time since my divorce I am impressed by a man, but I’m hesitant about starting a

relationship. Perhaps hesitant is the wrong word? Terrified would be more apt.

And as the aspects of my life; finally, seem to be configuring themselves into a

decorous and pleasing pattern, sewn with confidence and self-worth, I am asked to do

a TEDx talk in Hyderabad in India. A dream comes true. A TEDx talk is the pinnacle

of success. Not only for my career, but for the young awkward girl who never felt good

enough.

7.7.2 Hyderabad, TEDx and the red dot

E mail received on 14 March 2015, 12 32am

Dear Ms Colleen Lightbody,

Greetings!

We hope this message finds you well. We're honoured to invite you to speak at

TEDxHyderabad, an independently organized TED event happening in September

2015. Your work has been truly impressive and inspiring, and we would be excited to

have you join us at TEDxHyderabad. Our goal is to bring together bright minds to

deliver talks that are idea-focused, and on a wide range of subjects, to foster learning,

inspiration and wonder – and provoke conversations that matter.

Your talk would be filmed, and an edit will be hosted on the TEDx YouTube channel.

Just as with all speakers, we would work together ahead of time to curate the talk.

Your talk could be up to 18 minutes on your ground-breaking work.

TEDxHyderabad is scheduled for SEPTEMBER 20th, 2015. We believe your presence

would be a wonderful addition to the TEDxHyderabad stage.

Thank you for your time, and we very much look forward to hosting you in Hyderabad.

Kindly let us know your acceptance for the same.

Best,

Dr Anthony Vipin Das

TED Senior Fellow

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My best friend calls it “going to get my Nobel prize”. And that's how I feel as I recline

in luxury in my business class seat on Emirates airlines. ‘I could get used to this’ I

decide, drinking the glass of champagne on offer and feeling pleasantly light headed

although I’m sure that the dopamine flying around my brain is also contributing.

Terrified, excited, honoured and grateful, perhaps this is a life made up in a novel?

When I try to practise my talk, I keep forgetting it. Perhaps it’s time to stop? My friends

have been sending mails of encouragement. I am given words of advice like:

‘Imagine the audience are all naked’, or

‘You should go and watch some TED talks and see how it’s done!’

And my favourite: ‘Don’t practice, just be natural.’

Yeah right!

I, too, had absolutely no idea what went into presenting a TED talk before I received

the invitation on 14 March. I almost fainted, shrieked, danced around a bit and sent

back a reply as quickly as possible before they could change their minds.

That is how six months spent designing and thinking and crafting my talk began. It has

been through many, many iterations. The talk is ‘curated’ by senior fellows and patrons

of TEDx with hundreds of e-mails, WhatsApp’s and Skype calls back and forth. A

couple of ‘live’ practices with some clients, and a trusted friend and many rehearsals

in front of mirrors in innumerable hotel rooms become the norm. I get strange looks as

I mutter my talk to myself on planes and on trains, in the car and while running. I have

discovered that every place is the best place for practising! The preparation for an 18-

minute talk is rigorous and precise. What looks natural and ‘off the cuff’ is, in fact, a

finely choreographed, scripted and hopefully emotive address that aims to inspire,

provoke and challenge.

I read books and articles and navigate websites. I analyse my talk, write and rewrite it

and send it to my curators. The pictures for the presentation are gathered from the

dark corners of the hot, dusty loft in my new home, and from the metaphorically dusty

back-up devices with my computer files and from pictures begged for from friends. In

the middle of my preparations, I message Viiveck (my curator, sponsor, and friend)

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that I thought my talk was terrible and perhaps we should rethink the whole venture.

He writes back:

Not just am I confident of your talk and delivery but I am sure. You are my Guru after

all!

I am grateful for his constant guidance and support. The Skype calls to my gentle,

wise Indian curators guide the progress of my talk. Vipin is the senior TED fellow in

Hyderabad. He directs me to online lectures on how to deliver TED talks and describes

the power of an 18-minute TED talk.

“Colleen, you are a likeable hero. You have had a call to adventure and the audience

want to travel that journey with you.”

Viiveck concurs. He writes: When I met you in Mumbai and we chatted over breakfast

at the Lalit,57 I was entranced by your life story and how you told it. I watched you

lecturing in front of the room for three days as the group fell in love with you and your

knowledge and your journey. That is what we want. Your story is powerful, Colleen,

and you have the ability to tell it so that it helps people understand that insurmountable

challenges may be overcome. You give power to your audiences.

Vipen adds, on a pragmatic phone call, “We want a complete 18-minute talk. It should

have four components, 4 ½ minutes each. It doesn’t have to be chronological. It can

be geographical, whimsical, flashbacks, allegorical …” Vipen is reassuring and direct.

The theme of the Hyderabad event is Unfolding Journeys. Viiveck believes that I have

a tale to tell. He urges me to “create a simple storyboard, pen down your ideas.

Remember to bring in Gabriel and the fact that a few years ago you were a beautician.

We would love to have some of your professional and academic knowledge. Create

subtle or strong links to neuroscience. But this is a life story that is a celebration. That

is what we want.”

I send draft after draft to my curators. I fall in love with that word. Curators. The

custodians of my dream. The preparation for this talk is immense; this is why my friend

tell me that it’s like going to collect the prize. Most TED speakers say that this event is

57 Lalit – a five-star hotel in Mumbai.

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the peak of their careers. I am hoping and praying and dreaming that it may be the

beginning of mine!

Photograph 15: Advertising TEDx Hyderabad 2015

And then comes the decision of what to wear. The rules seem to change constantly.

What I am left with is: no black, no white, no bright colours that can interfere with the

camera. No stripes, no patterns, nothing formal, no chunky jewellery or scarves;

practically my entire wardrobe is eliminated! To my despair, the day before I leave, I

receive instructions that ladies may “wear Salwar suits, Sarees58 or smart casuals”.

My dear Indian friends: this is a huge ask for a westerner! I phone Abi and wail in

anguish.

“Abi why are you not at home. I have one day to go; I’m working flat out and now

what?”

Abi laughs, I can hear her raising her eyebrows, and she throws together a pile of

ideas that I pack into my suitcase. She suggests I send a mail to Viiveck asking if his

wife Ekta would be kind enough to come to my hotel room on Saturday morning to

help me select my wardrobe.

There is another spoke embedded in the rim alongside the spoke of the TEDx talk. In

February, I had met another wonderful group of participants in India. I was training a

58 Sulwar suit – the traditional dress for women in the Punjab district in India. Saree – a lady’s outfit

from India that is draped in a complex manner.

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Professional Coaching course in Mumbai. I shared with the group that one of my

dreams was to do a meditation retreat in India. With a wave of his wand, and a few

thoughtful e mails, a magician by the name of Vaibhav has manifested this and I will

be heading out the morning after the TEDx talk for a spiritual retreat in Rishikesh, at

Shri Omkarananda Ganga Sadan,59 in northern India at the foothills of the Himalayas.

To weave yet another narrative into this wonderful experience, a school friend from 30

years ago heard about the talk and the retreat and is going to join me for both.

Marjorie and I didn’t like each other much at school. In fact, we were completely

different people. In my eyes (not hers as it turns out), she was one of the ‘populars’

versus my ‘misfit’. We had met a few times in the past few years and discovered a

mutually ironic outlook on life, and a similar sense of humour. An unexpected

discovery that perhaps I was not really a misfit after all? Or we all were.

After an early morning arrival on Saturday and after only a few hours’ sleep, I head

out to the reception hall of the majestic Hyatt hotel to meet some of my fellow speakers.

We are whisked off to CMC Gatchibowlii, a cross between the Lost City and a building

out of an Asterix60 comic; also, the first IT building built in the whole of India. I find a

bicycle, and a door – symbols of the TEDx Hyderabad event – Unfolding Journeys. I

may borrow this as my theme for my next year.

Photograph 16: The bike and the door

59 Shri Omkarananda Ganga Sadan – a spiritual ashram in Northern India in the foothills of the

Himalayas. 60 Asterix – a French comic character depicting roman warriors

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The theatre is majestic and dark – the stage striking a regal pose – crimson, black,

and white – and at last I see the ubiquitous RED DOT! Introductions are made – almost

impossible for me to remember the names, but Raman with his outrageous sense of

humour (and prolific use of the word ‘shit’) has us laughing and connected within

minutes. It is a gift to, finally, hug Viiveck (manifester of my dream) and I immediately

feel connected to Ekta, his wife– a powerhouse of energy and philanthropy in a

beautiful female form. After working tirelessly for a year, tomorrow is the culmination

of the TEDx teams’ collaboration, determination and dedication. I am inspired by Ritu

Karidhal – director at ISRO and integral part of the Mars Orbiter Mission (Wow) and

Joe the musician, Kshitij, innovator, and Babu – oh I love his rationalist and humanist

philosophies. And Zeena – from Palestine.

Photograph 17: Viiveck and Ekta and Raman

The speakers begin to practise and, finally, I find my small place in the big red dot.

About a metre across the stage, it represents the space you are to stay in while you

speak. When it comes to my turn, I am more nervous than I ever remember being.

The TEDx talk is a cosmic leap out of my comfort zone. The audience will be in the

darkness; I cannot interact with them. This fully scripted and rehearsed talk will share

my story, rather than my expertise. I bomb and spend the rest of the day worried, a

heavy cloud around my head. I think my talk is awful.

Later, I discover my lovely friend Marjorie, just arrived from London, at the ink-blue

swimming pool of the Hyatt hotel. We celebrate our reunion with champagne at the

reception that night, as we are again briefed on the procedures for Sunday. Feeling

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heavy and uninspiring, I rush off to my room as soon as I can to meditate on my

intention to stay present and trusting.

TEDx day arrives and the auditorium is already buzzing as we arrive, the attendees

(500 chosen for the privilege out of 1400 applicants) are registering and we are

ushered inside. I have an instant connection with Lenny the photographer. We talk

about Ansel Adams and my dad and darkrooms. He too, is not a polished speaker, we

have a chemistry. In his talk, he shows the most remarkable panoramic pictures of

Hyderabad – all taken with no tripod. There are five generations of photographers in

his family, not one family member has ever chosen a different profession.

Photograph 18: The speakers for the day at TEDx.

The day begins with a song by Manasi, who walks us through a museum of modern

Indian music in Hyderabad that she has been instrumental (a pun – smile) in

conceiving and building. The culturally reserved Indian audience clap respectfully. Up

next are Babu and then Armstrong, as they present their philanthropic and activist

lives in a convincing and erudite way.

My heart is beating. After the break, I am taken back to the green room61’ where I await

my turn with Anshul. Twenty-six years old and an aspiring Sikh filmmaker, he has

made remarkable films with his cell phone about the ‘missing dead’ in India that are

exploited for their bodily organs. Anshul, his turbaned head nodding, is muttering his

61 The green room – the room behind the stage at the TEDx conference where speakers sit alone

before and after their talks.

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talk to himself, and I tell him to practise on me. Nervousness avoided by encouraging

him.

Finally, after Raman generates great laughs from the audience, who are slowly

warming up, it’s my turn. As I walk onto the stage, my nerves begin to abate. I begin,

“Ten years ago I discovered that I had a brain …”, I pause. The audience laughs.

Whew. From there, I am in full swing!62

Photograph 19: On the big red dot at TEDx Hyderabad

Suddenly my talk is done. The audience’s response is beyond what I could have

hoped. I am honoured by a standing ovation that lasts and lasts. Before my talk, after

the disastrous practice, I realised that my talk was flat. All that work, and I knew I was

delivering it without conviction or meaning. About five minutes before I walk onto that

stage, accompanied by the inspirational music and the respectful one-line introduction,

it dawns on me that this is an opportunity to give Gabriel’s life purpose.

This talk is about the choices that took courage and control and commitment, and I

share my heart and my life in 17 and a half minutes in my spiritual home of India.

Tens of thousands of views on YouTube, hundreds of e-mails, SMSs and Facebook

messages, and I begin to realise that people connect to different parts of the story –

adoption, bipolar, divorce, loss, or having a disabled child. The messages express a

need to conquer fears and insecurities and difficult circumstances. I receive calls from

62 The talk may be viewed on: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmdp7tr8UF

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people suffering from depression, with special-needs family members. E-mails are

sent from cancer wards and in the deep silence of the night from bewildered individuals

who gained comfort or motivation from Gabriel or the running or brain plasticity. I

discover that my story is making a difference.

From Hyderabad, Marj and I travel with our new friends to Rishikesh63 in the foothills

of the Himalayas, where we spent a week with beautiful souls at an ashram, practising

yoga and meditation. Ready to take my new consciousness and the neuroscience

wonders I have learnt back to my world, I return to my friends and my family and my

beautiful new home, to bicycles and ships and planes and trains, to mindfulness and

coaching inspiration. I choose to face up to the rest of my life, hopefully with

commitment, courage and self-control.

7.8 EPILOGUE – COMMITMENT

7.8.1 Be careful of what you say …

The rest of my life begins in earnest a few days after I arrive home, and I present the

proposal for my PhD at the University of Johannesburg. It is accepted. I take my

children on a dream cruise and return home to put my energy into my career and being

a mom. On Valentine’s Day, after running a 42 km marathon with my cousin, Natalie,

we celebrate my fiftieth birthday with a party in the sun, extravagantly thrown by my

daughter (with the liberal use of my credit card).

Part of my birthday speech, 14 February 2016

I like to count my life in double decades. The first two decades took me to where Abi

is now – 21 years old. For me, those were crazy mixed-up somewhat experimental –

not the finest two decades of my life.

Things evened out in the second two, where I made lots of mistakes, and I made lots

of wonder. The most important wonders are Abigail and Gabriel.

63 Rishikesh is a city in Northern India, renowned as a centre for studying yoga and meditation.

Ashrams and temples line the banks of the Ganges river, considered a holy river.

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Then I hit 40 and the metaphor I would use has something to do with a rude word and

a fan.

I gave true meaning to the words ‘mid-life crisis’, but I’m not going to repeat the story

because YouTube is already doing that very well for me.

I am now half way through my third double-decade; so those of you who know what

the last 10 have been like, I’m not sure if you are as scared and excited as me to see

what the next decade brings!

I should be careful of what I say. Scared and excited! A week later, I fly over the

handlebars of my bicycle, crashing headfirst into the tar.

7.8.2 Headlong into love

Early Sunday morning, as the sun’s rays weakly penetrate the smoggy East Rand64

air, I line up with my cycling friends at the start of the Carnival City Cycle Race. Four

of us, Mills, Nick, John and I have been riding together in races and on early morning

rides for years now. We know and understand each other’s riding styles and have a

well-defined racing strategy that has, thus far, kept us safe and given us some

excellent results. Today is a little different, as we have been asked by some less

experienced cyclists if they can ride with us. Nothing makes us happier than guiding

new cyclists, and we happily agree.

We ride in a small peloton, keeping deliberately apart from the dangers of the massive

groups that are common on a flat race that has no good climbs to leave behind the

novices – usually the more dangerous riders. I am feeling strong but take my chance

to move off the front of the group to sit in the middle – a much easier place to ride,

because the drafting effect saves a massive amount of energy expenditure. About

sixty kilometres into the ride, loving the racing, the cyclist in front of me suddenly hits

a bump in the road and his bike swerves sideways. The next thing I recall is waking

64 The East Rand encompasses the industrial eastern suburbs of Johannesburg.

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up on the road, with Mills holding my hand and asking me to speak. “What happened?

Where am I?” I am bewildered, concussed.

“There has been an accident in the group, Col. You have been badly hurt.”

I have little recollection of the next few hours, except for looking at my hand hanging

at a bizarre angle and saying to Mills, “I think I have broken my arm.”

Eventually, I land up in the emergency room of Morningside Hospital65 after being put

into an ambulance and onto a morphine drip, and am admitted with a severely

fractured skull, multiple abrasions and a shattered wrist.

Hours of surgery, a few titanium plates in my face and wrist and a week spent in

hospital later, I tentatively step back into my life. The prospect of potential disability

and the depressing reality of not being able to work and earn an income, motivate me,

and I get up and get into action. The brightest light in this mishap is Graham, the fellow

cycling committee member, who I had admired. He appears in the emergency room

and stays in my life.

“I have to smash my face into the tar to find love,” I say half-jokingly to my friends.

Perhaps I had to slow down, to find what I wanted most – a meaningful connection to

someone with whom I can share my heart. My recovery takes a while, and I learn the

meaning of patience, friendship and love, negotiating a new kind of relationship world.

My cycling companions are supportive, and I climb onto a tandem with Mills four weeks

after the crash. Abi and Gabes stay close and caring as they did through our other

metaphorical crashes. I recover and get back to work. My thesis starts to take shape

and the global travel begins again in earnest. Most of all, love begins to wrap itself

around my life. It feels surreal.

Falling in love at 50 and having a partner is an unexpected adventure – this time into

a Loving Warrior mind-set. Unsure how to do this, I spend my days in a somewhat

dreamy state of disbelief, while relishing the joy and gentleness of this relationship. I

65 A private hospital in Sandton, Johannesburg.

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have manifested success and adventure. Now, I have to learn to be present with peace

in my life.

7.8.3 My reflection as I complete my narrative

Photograph 20: Buddhist lotus flower

I am entranced by the metaphor of the lotus flower that grows out of a muddy, swamp

environment to become a beautiful flower. In Buddhist philosophy, the lotus flower is

a symbol of rising above pain and misfortune to achieve enlightenment.

The themes I have struggled with in my life as I slowly, slowly step into my Truth are

beginning to heal. My pain reflects my feeling insignificant and not important. The hurt

when I feel I am not important or when I feel left out is raw. It seemed for so long as

though life was a struggle. Failing at school, feeling inadequate and unloved, obesity,

acne, infertility, adopting, losing my brother, my parents’ divorce, the destruction of my

marriage, betrayal, death, mental illness, mental and physical disability, financial

destruction, career, and academic failure. All of these were my muddy swamp.

This has given me the beautiful flower that is: Becoming a warrior. Learning that the

warrior is not only about the force and vigour of choice, courage, commitment and

control; it may also be the gentler energy of self-acceptance, surrender, love and

vulnerability.

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SECTION 4: MOVING FROM WORRIER TO WARRIOR TO SUBSTANTIVE THEORY

The visions we offer our children shape the future.

It matters what those visions are.

Often, they become self-fulfilling prophecies.

Dreams are maps.

(Sagan & Druyan, 2011)

In this section, Chapter 8 builds on the mindfulness literature presented in Chapters

3, 4, 5 and 6; as well as the narrative in chapter 7, to present a practical process for

applying the constructs. This process allows the development of a spiritual model

supporting personal leadership, which is presented at the end of the chapter.

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CHAPTER 8

A PRACTICAL PROCESS FOR APPLYING A SPIRITUAL MODEL FOR PERSONAL LEADERSHIP

8.1 INTRODUCTION

In this chapter, the threefold conceptualisation of mindfulness and the story are drawn

together to build a spiritual model that is developed through a process that aims to

support personal leadership transformation. I call this, The way of the mindful

warrior.66 It has evolved from the narratives and literature in this thesis; as well as my

twenty years of research and practice in the field of personal development.

The four themes emerging from the narrative, Choice, Courage, Control and Commitment, are the first-order constructs that frame The way of the mindful warrior.

These four themes are linked to the abstract concepts drawn from the literature

describing mindfulness: Meditation, Intentionality and Consciousness (see Figure

3.1 in chapter 3, section 3.5). The process is the operationalised application of each

component of the model as it is developed step by step, until finally the model is

presented at the end of the chapter

Beginning with Choice, as the foundation for The way of the mindful warrior process,

the model is described through three aspects. These are (i) an understanding of how

stressful experiences may alter a person’s physical, biological and social equilibrium;

(ii) the importance of living a life of purpose and meaning through actualising one’s

values and strengths; and finally, (iii) recognising the signs of apathy or burnout.

The theme of Courage introduces the first element of the mindfulness literature, (i)

the art and science of mindfulness, Meditation. This is supported with (ii) a discussion

of the importance of techniques to validate and work with emotions, and (iii) to focus

thinking in order to engage a mindful leadership style.

Control offers an exploration of how our beliefs and our identity have been shaped

through our conditioned life experiences. We are then challenged to get out of the

66 The way of the mindful warrior is the name for the model and the process and will be italicized

and begin with a capital letter in this thesis.

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‘comfort zone’. This facilitates the introduction of the second construct of mindfulness,

Intentionality.

Finally, the theme of Commitment offers the third mindfulness construct of

Consciousness that completes the process; and the spiritual model supporting

personal transformation is presented.

The four themes and the 3 abstract concepts may be seen as a visual diagram in

figure 8.1.

Figure 8.1: The Conceptual Framework describing mindfulness

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This overview is further developed in figure 8.2, where the third column describes the

processes that evolved from these first and second order constructs. This process was

developed through the integration of the literature and the narrative, with an intentional

focus on how these may be practically applied in a personal development context.

FIRST-ORDER CONSTRUCTS (THEMES) FROM THE NARRATIVES

SECOND-ORDER CONSTRUCTS (ABSTRACT) FROM THE MINDFULNESS LITERATURE

APPLYING THE PROCESS OF THE WAY OF THE MINDFUL WARRIOR TEN COMPONENTS:

CHOICE i) MINDFUL OF THE CURVE

ii) HONOURING YOUR TRUTH

iii) UNCOVERING THE DEAD ZONE

COURAGE MEDITATION i) NARRATIVE VS DIRECT

ii) SENTIMENTS OF EMOTION

iii) MINDFUL OF OUR THINKING

CONTROL INTENTIONALITY i) SHADOWS AND LIGHT

ii) OUT OF THE FEATHER BED

iii) ACTUALISING & TRANSCENDING

COMMITMENT CONSCIOUSNESS i) CONSCIOUS BEING

Figure 8.2: The flow of the constructs, and the process

The in-depth review of the literature has focused on the integration of different

mindfulness perspectives. This in turn has guided the development of the model

(Spiggle,1994). I use an iterative approach in this chapter (Bryman & Bell, 2011)

Where the first order constructs derived from the narrative are linked to the second-

SUBSTANTIVE THEORY

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order constructs that emerged from a study of the literature. This is further explored

through the process that is described in column three. This process provides a basis

for understanding and explaining how the constructs may be applied (Eriksson &

Kovalainen, 2008).

I derived the first order constructs inductively from a subjective perspective as they

emerged through the telling of the story (Charmaz, 2006). The abstract concepts that

were extracted through the literature in chapters 3, 4, 5 and 6 were linked to these.

Using grounded theory principles in a flexible way, the ten-step process was

developed using theory, concepts, definitions and typologies. This allowed the

development of a mindfulness model reflecting a spiritual approach to personal

leadership. This chapter engages with autoethnographic principles in further using

narratives to add an evocative lens to illustrate each step of the process. I mention in

chapter 2 that it is impossible for me to unravel my thinking from the many years of

immersion in the field of neuroscience, mindfulness and leadership. Therefore, I braid

aspects of this knowledge and experience within the step by step process (Massey,

1996). The aim is to create a meaningful, detailed and integrated understanding of

how mindfulness may be constructively applied. Finally, the model is presented as a

means of visually and conceptually understanding each aspect of the first order,

second order constructs.

Next, I clarify some points covered in the chapter and then share the background to

my work in this area. This narrative is told separately from the chronological narrative

in chapter 7 as it is specifically focused on the psychological and experiential

background that I, as author, have had that have influenced the writing of this chapter.

Following this, the ten components of the process are explored, culminating in the final

presentation of the new model.

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8.2 CLARIFYING NOTES

Some key points are noted here to clarify the presentation of the model and the

process in this chapter.67

i. The model and process described in this chapter and in Appendix A evolved,

in part, through a reflection of my twenty years of research and practice in the

field of personal development. They were refined in this thesis through an

examination of the literature and linking that with themes derived from the

narrative.

ii. The chapter is written in a confessional writing style representing my voice

and concerns as the model is developed. I also use an auto-ethnographic style

as introspection on my own and others’ personal experiences as they relate

to the construct of mindfulness and personal development (Sparkes, 2002b).

When using the stories of others, the purpose is to add compelling and

evocative illustration of the principles being applied. With this in mind and

because it was not possible to gain permission of individual stories, I created

composite characters and changed demographic and other features of the

individuals and the stories themselves (Ellis, 2007; Tullis, 2013).

iii. Personal reflections are offered as evocative descriptions of aspects of the

process. These are added in pink.

iv. Section 8.1 introduces this chapter, section 8.2 clarifies the structure and

flow of this section, while section 8.3 gives context to the evolution of this

section. The final spiritual model for personal leadership is developed in a

step-by-step manner (components 1–10), woven through the process in

section 8.4. The final model is presented in section 8.5.

v. The model and the process resemble a substantive theory.

vi. Appendix A, which has been placed at the end of the thesis, serves as a

supporting document for chapter 8: A practical process for applying a spiritual

model for personal leadership. The appendix contains stories, information and

detail – labelled as ‘Notes’ and ‘Activities’ – which add value to the model

developed in this chapter. The Notes are drawn from client stories,

presentations, research and personal experience. The Activities are aimed

67 These are covered more fully in Section 1: Methodology and Section 5: Wrapping up.

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at providing a practical application of the model. I use symbols to describe

these in this chapter, to orientate the reader to appendix A. The Audio is

added as a footnote in the chapter.

Notes

Activities

Audio

vii. In line with ethical guidelines, I altered my clients’ stories, sometimes changing

their gender, age, culture or ethnicity, as well as other particulars, to protect

their identity.

Having clarified key points with regard to the chapter, I now share some personal

experiences to contextualise how these played a role in both the model and the

process I developed.

8.3 SOME PERSONAL EXPERIENCES AS BACKGROUND

It is 1977 and I am 11 years old, listening to Wayne Dwyer68 tapes slotted into the

cassette player in Dad’s car as we travel to the Kruger National Park69. Mom is

absorbed with her knitting. She seems to be deep in reflection, thoughts to which the

rest of the family are not privy. Dad nods fervently as he internalises Wayne Dwyer’s

inspirational messages, exchanging wise insights with my smart brother. I am not

paying much attention to their discussion as I stare at the unforgiving reflection of my

acne-covered face in the car window. I sigh, wishing that I were hitting a tennis ball or

jumping on a trampoline. Anything that would help me forget that I feel ugly.

68 A well-known motivational speaker in the seventies. 69 One of Africa’s largest game reserves.

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A year later and it is my twelfth birthday. I tell my parents that I desperately want a

trampoline of my own. Perhaps I was imaging I could bounce right out of my awkward

identity. Martin is keen for one too, and we beg my dad. He thinks about it and then

provides the conditions.

“Fine, but only if you completely give up all sweets for a year.” He smiles, knowingly.

A year? No sweets! Martin and I look at each other.

“We can do this, Col.”

The lure of the trampoline wins, and we agree to a whole sugarless, sweet-free year.

I do, however, confess to guiltily gobbling two or three Bar-Ones under the cover of

my duvet during that long year.

One cold Highveld70 evening we wait patiently for Dad to return from the shops. Martin

and I have spent the year marking the days on the calendar. Today is the day we are

expecting him to buy the trampoline. As he walks through the front door with a huge

smile on his face, he hands Martin a spade and gives me a rolled-up trampoline mat

and says, “Now go and dig the hole”.

I love that trampoline. Martin can do a back and a front somersault. As for me, I am

happy to flop onto the woven mat and lie for hours as the long summer days turn into

sultry evenings. We host an ‘after-party’ for my friends following my matric dance. In

the early hours of the morning, my father catches two girls from my class, in flagrante

delicto with boys from an upmarket boy’s school, on my trampoline. I stay upstairs in

my bedroom for most of that party, hiding from the trendy kids, looking at my pimples

in the mirror and wishing that a fairy godmother would emerge and wipe them off my

face.

All the time, while I am wrestling with insecurity, my father tries to build my motivation

and self-esteem. Throughout high school and afterwards, my dad is unremitting in his

enthusiasm for inspirational personal development programmes. He buys motivational

tapes and plays them in the car. I sit through visualisation and meditation and brain-

learning courses that inspire me mainly because my dad is sitting next to me in the

70 The word denotes the high inland plateau above 1500 m.

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classroom. He is my hero. I am completely in awe of him, but the courses don’t seem

to make a difference.

After school, I plod through a university degree and then drop out half-way through my

second year. I retreat into a career as a beautician, probably borne from the anguish

of my acne-scarred face. I determinedly evade any thought of personal development

and aspirational goals by smoking grass, packing on protective layers of fat and

wafting around, experimenting with various concentrations of brandy and Coca-Cola.

The catalytic and intimate experience of mental illness, physical trauma, infertility,

bereavement and financial struggle years later finally connects me to the world of the

mind-warriors. I hesitatingly begin to sample a fragment of motivation and taste a

mouthful of inspiration. I train as a crisis counsellor and work for SANCA.71 I attend a

course on how to influence people, and then train in assisting in trauma interventions.

This world tastes delicious. I begin to devour books and listen to audio-recordings,

attend courses and complete my degree. Eventually, I test myself at the coal-face of

a professional coaching practice and certification.

I seek out the gurus of meaning and purpose – from Covey to Chopra – and sample

the sommeliers of drive and mastery, like Robbins and Zig Ziglar. I enthuse over the

gastronomic marvels of visualisation and mantras. Vision boards decorate my walls

and a motivational screensaver proclaims from my computer: Be a master of your

destiny rather than slave to a conditioned narrative. As a coach, I test, practise and

reflect until I eventually brand myself as a ‘Truth Coach’.72 I focus on helping people

to discover their values and strengths. I put all my energy into finding practices and

processes to support a life of meaning, purpose, passion and power. For myself and

for those I work with. Becoming a warrior of the mind is a long journey on which I

continue to travel, as I try to live my newly-discovered, self-identified core purpose –

being a catalyst for change.

I work tirelessly towards my goal of being a master of my destiny rather than a slave

to a conditioned narrative. Why? Being the victim of conditioned experiences,

education, culture, parenting, religions, social expectations and political systems had

71 The South African National Council on Alcoholism. 72 The word Truth is italicised and capitalised throughout this chapter and is used as a noun

signifying the purpose, values, meaning and strengths of an individual.

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drawn me so far from my Truth into discomfort, depression and disconnection.

Through my work I come to believe that people are not in search of happiness, but

rather that they are in search of purpose. This brings peace of mind.

I have seen people change their lives for different reasons – often through a catalytic

event such as death, divorce or discovering a partner having an affair. Transitioning

sometimes occurs through the natural evolution of developmental life stages, or

perhaps through reading a book, or witnessing a motivational talk, or watching another

person who steps out of their predefined routines into wisdom. I have a friend who

woke up after a dream to see the world in a new light and, consequently, changed

jobs, husband and location! Eckhart Tolle, who at the age of 29 underwent what he

calls a “inner transformation” after an intense period of suffering, suicidal depression

and dread, “[forced] my consciousness to withdraw from its identification with the

unhappy and deeply fearful self, which is ultimately a fiction of the mind” (Tolle, 2005,

p. 5).

My most dramatic catalyst happened on 10 August 2005, when I discovered that my

son was profoundly brain damaged. Before this I was presented with a series of

traumatic events, from my brother’s disappearance, his suicide, adopting my children

losing my prosperity, my divorce, as well as other events that I now regard with

sadness but also with gratitude. These life-agitators gave me the gift of enforcing my

transformation. Without these, I am sure I would have continued the dysfunctional

trajectory on which I was headed in my early twenties.

Stories show how spiritual guides such as Shaman, Buddhist monks, African

Sangomas, Mayan, Christian, Vedic, Judaic and Native American healers, Kahunas

from Hawaii and Japanese priests have experienced a significant shift in

consciousness through their own catalytic encounters with depression or bipolar,

psychosis, unbearable grief, physical trauma, or disease. This resonates with me.

These events spurred their connection to the world of enlightenment. In this context,

the catastrophic event is often even seen as a requirement for psychic and spiritual

wisdom.

I become deeply immersed in supporting others to transform. I am grateful to, and in

awe of, the many human beings who have opened their world and shared their

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harrowing life stories with me after my talks and during coaching sessions. We often

sit in the plush chairs of upmarket coffee shops, sipping our cappuccinos as I bear

witness to the sadness, uncertainty and ruins of self-worth that their lives have

devastatingly elicited. Their sharing spurs me on to work harder at discovering

techniques for empowerment. I have been inspired by the strength these people gain

from the conversations and processes we share. Somehow the power of talking with

a warrior mind-set, has an anchoring effect that enables them to loosen the grip of the

dysfunctional narrative, and to embrace a present-centred, intentional consciousness.

After years of working in the realm of personal development, I know that such

transformation is not easy. I am well known for declaring forcefully in my lectures:

“Success does not fall out of the sky and land on your head! It takes commitment,

courage and self-control. And it is a choice.” Personal transformation is not a journey

for the faint-hearted or the meek.

Having described my immersion in this world of transformation, I now begin the

development of the process described as: The way of the mindful warrior. The four

themes and the mindfulness constructs are used to build the components of the

mindfulness model, which is linked to a practical process for personal development.

The model is presented at the end of this chapter.

8.4 THE WAY OF THE MINDFUL WARRIOR

8.4.1 CHOICE

The journey of The way of the mindful warrior begins with a Choice to embark on a

journey of self-awareness. Three processes are offered as a means for understanding

(i) the way stressful experiences may alter a person’s physical, biological and social

equilibrium, ii) the importance of living a life of purpose and meaning by actualising

one’s values and strengths, and iii) the risks of not doing so. These three processes

comprise the first three components of the mindfulness model which is shared at the

end of the chapter.

(i) Mindful of the curve

In starting the journey on The way of the mindful warrior, I refer to the well-known and

probably overused, performance-stress curve (Yerkes & Dodson, 1908, p. 459). This

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is often referred to as the performance-arousal curve where arousal refers to physical

or mental effort.

Figure 8.3: Component 1: The performance-stress curve

In component 1, the vertical axis represents a measure of effective performance

(which we may call success or achievement or outcomes). Performance ranges from

low to high. Arousal or stress is measured on the horizontal axis, the stress axis, which

ranges from the extremes of apathy to burnout. The curve describes how stress and

performance are correlated.

Before going any further, it is important to explain key concepts. These are:

Stress has become a popular negative, non-specific term that people use to describe

the unmanageable tension or strain that they experience when pushed beyond their

comfort zone Here the focus on stress is in the generic sense of physiological,

emotional, neurological and/or psychological load (Carson & Butcher, 1992; Gross,

2007; Holford, 1999).

Apathy, in the left-hand corner, is characterised by an absence of responsiveness to

stimuli (Goldstein, 2006; Stuss, Van Reekum, & Murphy, 2000). Many people live their

entire lives in a state of apathy and boredom, never challenging themselves to their

full potential.

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Peak performance. As we challenge or stretch ourselves our performance levels

increase (Csikszentmihalyi, 1993; Hassad, 2008). At the peak of the curve,

performance becomes optimal and seemingly effortless and we are actively engaged.

Hungarian-born psychologist Mihály Csikszentmihalyi (1990) describes this

experience as “flow”; a feeling of complete engagement in an activity characterised by

three key elements – enjoyment, effort and doing something that you are good at.

Burnout. Stressful experiences may alter a person’s physical, biological and social

equilibrium to such a degree that life becomes colourless, meaningless and

unproductive (Duncan, 2005; Goldstein, 2006; Maslach & Leiter, 2015). In addition,

stress fundamentally changes the chemistry of the body. A stressful situation causes

the adrenal glands to produce adrenaline, which in turn results in a physiological

reaction preparing the body for fight or flight, with a corresponding shift in the

neurochemical balance in the brain (Ochsner, 2008; Rock, 2009). Stress activation is,

thus, both a somatic, psychological and a neurological response.

Once stress becomes unmanageable or uncontrollable, the slide over the top of the

curve begins. Even a perception of not being in control can precipitate this. The

furthest point of this curve, on the right, is the point of burnout. People who have over-

stretched themselves are over-challenged and then psychological, emotional, physical

and neurological breakdown is inevitable. Many people have been there and are

familiar with this condition. I visited one of my senior executive clients in hospital who

was in a state of almost catatonic depression and he said:

“Colleen, I had no idea it was happening. One minute I was firing on all cylinders,

burning the candles at both ends, closing deals, motivating my staff, making money.

The next, I am lying here, and I don't know if I will ever get up again.”

It was heart-breaking. He did eventually get up, but it was as a transformed man.

Between the point of peak performance and burnout is a slippery slope. It is something

that we are familiar with but if we are not conscious and cautious of the danger, we

may descend without realising it. Noticing symptoms that indicate that you or

somebody you know is sliding into a breakdown is important.

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But what are the signs of burnout? Commonly suggested examples include mood

swings, aggression, tiredness, inability to sleep or poor sleep experiences, eating too

much or too little, defensiveness, blaming and making excuses, taking things

personally, withdrawal, absenteeism, passive-aggressive responses, agitation,

depression, pessimism, catastrophising, anxiety, making unforced errors,

restlessness, irritability, difficulty concentrating, muscle tension, social withdrawal,

addiction and substance abuse (alcohol, narcotics, pharmaceuticals, food), panic

attacks and phobias (Barlow & Durand, 1995; Goldstein, 2006; Maslach & Leiter,

2015).

One of the first symptoms many people have mentioned to me is illness, such as

recurring bouts of flu, headaches and, without wanting to sound alarmist, strokes,

heart attacks and even cancer. I have also noticed that people have accidents

(crashing cars or twisting ankles) when at the point of burnout. Activity 1, which may

be found in Appendix A, is a guide to identifying signals that one is moving towards a

breakdown.

Appendix A, Activity 1. Identifying symptoms

While the same symptoms mentioned above may be experienced in a fight, flight or

freeze response to a traumatic or distressing incident, in full burnout they can be more

pervasive. They correspond to the diagnostic criteria for a psychopathological disorder

such as generalised anxiety disorder, depression or acute stress disorder, as

described in the DSM V, the latest Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental

Disorders (American Psychiatric Association, 2013). It is often sobering to recognise

how these symptoms, persisting for more days than not, over a period, are

accompanied by some social, academic and/or occupational distress and may indicate

a serious problem (Barlow & Durand, 1995). I read a news story penned by an old

school friend, Kate, that demonstrates a tragic example of what extreme stress can

do (Sidley, 2017). I share it here:

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Reflection from my journal: 03 July 2017

Kate writes of journalist, Suna Venter, who died last week of “Broken Heart syndrome”.

In the turbulent political times our country is going through, press freedom is

threatened through intimidation and violence. Suna was harassed and threatened, she

was shot at, tied to a tree in the Melville Koppies, and the grass around her set alight.

She was victimised and traumatised to the point that her family believed the

unremitting trauma damaged her heart and led to her death. Kate evocatively

associates Suna’s death with that of Moses Tladi, an artist who was equally viciously

persecuted in the 1950s by the “black spot removals” of the apartheid government.

After being forcibly removed from his beloved home, he put away his paintbrush as

his health deteriorated and, as Kate writes:

… three years later, at just 56, he died of what his children describe as a broken heart.

It’s a coincidence of phrase that takes my breath away. Six decades and a world apart.

Two South Africans, two broken hearts.

I am starting to think that we are suffering from pre-traumatic syndrome in

Johannesburg – never mind post!

One may tip over the edge of the curve into burnout, or retreat into apathy and

slothfulness. The change may be dramatic, after a traumatic event, or over time, but

often the descent is subtle. Many people are functioning optimally, happily engaged in

their lives, their relationships, their jobs, and then slowly become less enthusiastic and

put in less effort or are pushed beyond their capacity. They find themselves chronically

unmotivated and bored, or alternatively, anxious and restless.

This concludes the first component of The way of the mindful warrior process:

identifying that one is suffering. From here, the alternative, ‘Living your Truth’ by

identifying core values, strengths and purpose, is presented as component 2.

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(ii) Living your Truth

The importance of living a life of purpose and meaning by actualising one’s values and

strengths, is supported through the symbol of the Truth arrow. Popularly referred to by

terms such as mastery, true north, fulfilment, actualisation, and flow, the arrow

represents a life of harmony and balance, congruence and the realisation of one’s

potential. I call it, ‘living your Truth’.

This is based on the supposition that people may create an optimal life by being in

control of the mental processes and attitudes that can take them to the pinnacle of

achievement in any area of their lives, should they so wish (Pink, 2005; Rock, 2009).

Figure 8.4: Component 2: The Truth arrow

Relevant terms discussed in this section include authenticity, flow and purpose. I use

the term ‘Truth’ as synonymous with authenticity. This refers to attitudes and

behaviours that are honest, transparent and a reflection of a person’s personal values,

desires and abilities (Baron, 2012 Boyatzis, 2015; Cashman, 2008). In my experience,

human beings yearn for development and fulfilment and have the capacity to achieve

whatever they wish to achieve. I say in my classes: “You are not going to want to be

a ballerina if you have not been endowed with ballerina abilities.” Almost always, we

only wish for that which we have the innate capacity and ability to actualise. Sharma

(1998) says: “Act in a way that is congruent with your true character. Act with integrity.

Be guided by your heart. The rest will take care of itself” (p. 144).

The key to achieving our goals is the positive attitude and willingness to make the

effort. It is unlikely that one will put in the effort to do something that does not have a

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desirable end state. I work with vision and goal-setting to engage a positive

neurochemical state in the brain. The reward neurochemicals of dopamine, serotonin,

and adrenalin are strongly linked to motivation (Rock, 2001).

I once asked a client: “Have you ever had a dream that you have given up on?” She

replied: “I always wanted to be a vet.” At the time she had a master’s degree in zoology

and was unhappily employed in an insurance firm. She was living completely out of

her Truth. By reigniting the memory of her dream, the two of us began to work through

a process of helping her honour her Truth. At the end of six months, she gave up her

job and moved to the country where she worked with rehabilitating injured lions. She

also found fulfilment and peace of mind.

I am often asked whether we are born with our talents: which is more important, our

genes or the environment for shaping our destiny? From the literature it is clear that

the nature/nurture debate is undecided and rages on (Holmberg, 2016; Seligman,

1996; Worldsview Consulting, 2009). The leadership field leans strongly towards the

belief that, while people are genetically endowed with certain traits and abilities, their

environment and internal drive determine the level to which they optimise their innate

capacity.

The nurture argument has been given scientific weight through the concept of

neuroplasticity (Rock & Schwartz, 2008). Born out of the understanding that areas of

the brain change in response to experience and that new neurons grow throughout

one’s lifespan, neuroplasticity takes an optimistic perspective of the possibility for

behavioural and mental change. Farb et al. (2007) and Dardik and Waitley (1986) point

out that new habits of thinking and behaviour may be embedded through rehearsal,

creating rituals, mental programming and regular visualisation practices.

I share a personal experience of nature vs nurture in appendix A, Note 1.

Appendix A: Note 1. Nurture trumps Nature

It is well known that many people live in dissatisfaction and disharmony, be it in their

jobs, their relationships, even with their own body and mind. This may be due to

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conditioned dysfunctional thinking, or difficult life circumstances; sometimes merely

because they have never thought that any other way of living is possible (Cantor, 1990;

Kelley, 2011). To honour one’s values, which I define as Truth, is a choice that needs

to be practised intentionally and consciously.

To live out of alignment soon causes psychological dissonance (Cooper & Fazio,

1994; Erickson, 1995). Dr Phil McGraw, the author of the Self-Matters (2001),

eloquently describes the momentous change he experienced as his existential focus

shifted from a misaligned state to a life of optimism and “bullet-proofing” against the

angst and drama of the inauthentic self. For him it began ten years into a flourishing

career with a phone call to his father, telling him that despite his evident success, he

was deeply unhappy with his life. He needed to honour his authentic being and step

out of the conditioned expectations of family and society. Being in one’s Truth allows

for the purposeful pursuit of career success and relationship happiness.

I align living one’s Truth with the point of peak performance as defined by the concept

of being in ‘the zone’, or ‘flow’ as mentioned in component 1. This is a familiar state

to athletes, mathematicians, chefs, musicians, video-game enthusiasts – almost

anyone who loses himself, and all sense of time and other needs, while engaged in a

favourite, challenging pursuit. Flow is so named because during interviews, several

people in describing their 'flow' experiences used the metaphor of a water current

carrying them along. This is experienced as the ‘good life’, a life of engagement, of

being immersed in activities one enjoys, including family life, hobbies and work

activities. It is accompanied by a sense of happiness, satisfaction and serenity that

comes from the full use of one’s personal abilities (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990, 1993).

Csikszentmihalyi describes the rewards experienced when we are in flow as being

intrinsic to the activity itself, not from an extrinsic reinforcement such as approval,

material gain or status enhancement. Edward Deci at the University of Rochester

tested this prediction and found that if people were given money for doing things they

enjoyed, they lost interest in those things faster than when they were not rewarded

(Deci & Ryan, 1985). Therefore, intrinsic value may primarily be discovered through a

life of meaning and purpose.

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Purpose is unique to every human being. Meyer et al. refer to purpose as the “balance

between the childlike enthusiasm for doing and making things and the tendency of

being too strict in self-judgment” (1997, p. 159). Flow occurs when this balance is

manifested in a purposeful and meaningful experience of life. Understanding one’s

Truth allows individuals to ensure they are in alignment with their inherent skills and

talents on the journey to purpose, meaning and self-mastery.

Never forget the importance of living with unbridled exhilaration. Never neglect

to see the exquisite beauty in all living things. Today and this very moment, is

a gift. Stay focused on your purpose. The Universe will take care of everything

else (Sharma, 1997, p. 100).

Following this discussion of authenticity, flow and purpose, the question arises: ‘What

are the activities that put a person in the optimal zone?’ The question could be framed

as: ‘How do you discover your Truth?’ The answer here lies in three key elements:

doing something you enjoy, something that is challenging and that which you have a

natural talent for (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990; Wang, Lightsey, Pietruszka, Uruk, & Wells,

2007).

To demonstrate, I share a conversation of discovery that I have with an individual in a

one-on-one coaching session, where I elicit her Truth from a discussion of these three

elements.

A conversation with Mandy:

I like to call these conversations ‘a time-in-your-life chat’.

Me: Mandy, can you identify times in your life when you have been in flow, when you

have been engaged in an activity or an experience where you feel powerful and

engaged? This may have been in any context; your work, social life, sporting,

recreational? Any time? Last week, last year or even in your childhood.

Mandy: Yes, definitely. I was in college, getting good grades. I knew my professors

well and got on with them. I felt like I was nailing it. I loved what I was learning –

political science.

Me: What about that was so wonderful?

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Mandy shares some ideas of what was so wonderful about that time.

Me: Another time or place?

Mandy: I am happy when I am working on big projects in a team. I love supporting my

team to be creative, to build projects from the bottom up. Especially when we get the

results and we have all worked together. Last week we were tasked with designing a

new product and the week flew by and the best part was when we completed it early

and were able to present it to the execs – they were completely surprised and

impressed.

Me: Great, what about that is so energising for you?

Mandy considers this quietly and answers.

Me: Now, a time in your life that is the opposite, where you were disappointed or felt

small and powerless?

Mandy: Not such fun to remember this one – and it will always stick in my mind. It was

when I graduated from college. At the party afterwards, I overheard my dad mocking

my degree. He was saying that there is no way I could make a living out of such a

‘mickey mouse’ qualification. I was devastated.

Me: Tell me the kinds of people you admire.

Mandy: I admire my dad actually. He is always honest – even when it hurts, and he

has made a huge success of his life by always learning and challenging himself to new

things.

Me: Now, the kinds of people you dislike?

Mandy: Oh, that's easy. I dislike inauthentic people; people who represent themselves

falsely and take credit when it’s not due to them. I have a manager at work who is

always making my team feel small and useless. He is so disrespectful and arrogant.

NOTE: I use what I call ‘the critical question’ to uncover the qualities or values that are

important to the client.

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Me: What about those experiences that made you feel inspired?73

As Mandy described what she loved or hated about those experiences, I could identify

a list of her core values. Positive experiences reflected times when her values were

honoured. Negative encounters exposed values that were being undermined or

disrespected.

I share with her…

Me: Mandy, these are the qualities of those experiences I have elicited. These are

your core values, your purpose. When all is right in Mandy’s world, these things are

being honoured. When either you yourself, another person, a situation or an

organisation is not in alignment with these values, you feel distrust, disappointment,

depressed and discomfort.

I show Mandy the list of core values that I have written down:

Acknowledgement/recognition/visibility

Achievement/challenge/growth

Making a difference/having impact

Being action oriented

Certainty/clarity/control

Learning/knowledge

Patterns/gestalt

Creating/building

Exploration/discovery

Integrity/authenticity/honesty

Reliability

Fairness

Mandy (eyes wide): You just get me – it’s like you have a crystal ball – how did you do

that?

73 One could also use the words good, energised, engaged or connected to replace inspired

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Me: Actually, I didn't do anything – you did all the work. You told me all the things that

make you come alive and we can now see exactly where you are and where you’re

not honouring these values. I call this list your Truth.

Sometimes, it is not people themselves that are out of alignment with their Truth but

another person, situation or experience. The important thing to remember is that we

are only in control of ourselves, not our external reality (Frankl, 2006).

Congruency between one’s Truth and personal reality, or authenticity, is an indication

of the alignment of flow and purpose (Holford, 1999; Rock, 2009). Awareness of the

Truth allows the purposeful direction of choices and actions towards a desired

outcome. Personal mastery is about fully engaging your talents, skills, needs, wants

and values. These are summed up as your Truth. In a beautiful poem, quoted by

Nelson Mandela at his inauguration, Marianne Williamson wrote: “The purpose of our

lives is to give birth to the best which is within us” (1996, p. 190). This, in turn, leads

to having a sense of meaning and direction. Activity 2, detailed in Appendix A, is a

guide to the discovery of one’s Truth.

Appendix A. Activity 2: Defining your Truth

Reflection from my journal: Kilimanjaro – the night before the summit, September 2005

I climbed Kilimanjaro today. I climbed to Stella Point, to the crater, and then continued

up to Uhuru Peak at 5940 m without faltering or hesitating, feeling like the strongest,

most powerful climber in the world. Achieving a lifetime dream is surreal, and it feels

like heaven.

Suddenly after this long, long night, almost unexpectedly, we walked over the top of

the scree, and there was the crater of Kilimanjaro, just as the sun was rising, casting

a beautiful watery-orange across the sky. Overcome by emotion, my throat closed,

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and tears welled up and poured down my face. I watched myself, entranced by my

unexpected reaction, instantaneous and filled with joy, awe, wonder, sadness. I

noticed some of the others were similarly overcome. Tonight, at dinner, I asked if

everyone had cried and they all said “yes”. Doug gave me a great hug, and I said, “It’s

so cool”. Never in the history of my life, have I used such an inadequate word! The

crater was vast, a multitude of greys, blues and brown; bordered by glaciers

brightening the darkness of the valley. It was magnificent, seeming like the hand of

God had come down and moulded this wonder.

Later that evening:

It is nearly 6 o’clock and the clouds are blowing through Barranco Camp. It is bitterly

cold. We washed in our two bowls of barely-warm water – all eight of us sharing two

bowls. We’re dressed in many layers sitting in our sleeping bags in our tents, either

reading, sleeping, talking or writing (always me). I peek through the small gap made

by the stretched zip on our tent to look at the mountain looming over us, guarding us,

beckoning us. The clouds cover her, then clear, then hide her beauty again. I hear the

cracking of the ice flows as they settle into their night sleep. The wind shrieks as it

whips across the mountains and bashes the canvas of my tent. Goosebumps prickle

my arms. The startling white of the glaciers that smooth the mountain top, reach down

in trails across her back. Every now and again, the sun strikes the whiteness, and she

glows with pristine purity that leaves me breathless with awe and so grateful that I

have been given this great gift to be here, to challenge my body and my mind and

probably my life.

Having described the concept of Truth, let us now turn to the experience of being out

of alignment with our Truth.

(iii) Uncovering the dead zone

Here I describe what happens when you or your external reality is out of alignment

with your Truth. Initially, I called the mental, emotional and physical space that people

find themselves in when they are out of alignment; the D-zone. This was sparked by

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the Smith Life Congruence Model (Smith, 2009b, p. 9). I applied this to illustrate the

dissonance between a worrier mentality and the expression of a warrior mind-set

(Bloem, 2012).

As I spoke about, saw and experienced this zone in my life, and those of my friends

and my clients, I began to use a somewhat macabre term, the Dead Zone, to describe

this dissonance. The reason for this was that the experience of being out of alignment

with one’s Truth can be destructive and disabling.

Figure 8.5: Component 3: The Dead Zone

If the Truth represents one’s core values, needs, strengths and purpose, then the

world, people and reality may be seen as drawing us away from this spiritual

‘beingness’ towards an existential ‘disconnect’. When we are living out of our Truth,

we experience discomfort, distress, dissonance, disaster, dissolution, disintegration,

disorder, drama, dementia, disturbance, disappointment, despondency, dis-

organisation, distraction, discontent and even disease (Smith, 2009a; McEwan, 2004;

Van der Kolk, McFarlane, & Wasaeth, 1996).

Like an enemy I know intimately as any friend, I came to know the nagging,

constant emptiness of the incongruent life. I ignored myself and lived for

people, purposes and goals that weren’t my own. I betrayed who I was and

instead accepted a fictional substitute that was defined from the outside in. I

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betrayed myself and mine was a life and experience that was a fraud and a

fiction (McGraw, 2002, p.7).

The dead zone refers to the disturbance experienced as people tip over either side of

the stress curve. These conditions are often attributed to stress, but in The way of the

mindful warrior process, these conditions entail more than mere stress responses.

Rather, these conditions are related to living out of purpose and not honouring one’s

talents, values and destiny, with the resulting inability to integrate and optimise well-

being and potential.

The challenge is to recognise when we are in the dead zone and not aligned with our

authentic being. One of the easiest ways to accomplish this is through the awareness

of physiological discomfort in response to events, people or our thoughts (McEwan,

2004; Sandlund & Norlander, 2000). In other words, we recognise uncomfortable

somatic signals such as a tight throat, clenched gut, pain in our solar plexus or

pounding heart. In addition, we may begin to notice experiences of frustration,

irritation, anger or sadness.

The dead zone may be experienced either through (i) the external world or (ii) our

internal processing.

• The external world. People may be in the dead zone through their experience

of the external world; discomfort and disconnect in their job, in their

relationships, in their health or in other areas. The organisations people work

for may not be in alignment with their value system (Cacioppe, 1999). Also, a

political system may offend their ideals and beliefs or, sometimes, their intimate

relationship may be completely misaligned with their Truth (Cloud, 2006;

Harrop-Allin, 2010; Marques et al., 2007).

The important thing to remember here is that we are not in control of the external

reality; only our perception, thinking and, consequently, our responses to that reality

(Boyes, 2008; Cloud, 2006; Frankl, 2006).

• Internal processing. People often experience the dead zone through their

negative thoughts and beliefs, which result in behaviour that presents as

dysfunctional (Goldman Schuyler, 2010). People may create limiting beliefs

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about their own abilities and therefore limit the possibility for self-directed

empowerment.

I propose Activity 3, provided in Appendix A to support the development of an

awareness of where one is out of alignment with the Truth.

Appendix A. Activity 3: Your dead zone

People honouring their own Truth are often not in alignment with society’s expectations

or the expectations of their family and friends. Consequently, when they embark on

the mindful warrior journey, a disturbance in the status quo may result. One advantage

of recognising that every person has their own unique Truth is that it releases one from

being judgemental. In line with this it may be argued that one needs to let go of

expectations that other people need to think like us, respond like us, or be like us.

I have the following personal saying: “We marry at the level of our own pathology.”

What I mean by this is that our lack of alignment reflects our partner’s. So, when one

person in the relationship starts changing, the shift in expectations and roles can, at

best, be disconcerting; at worst, catastrophic. When we start to choose a life where

we honour our Truth, we need to be conscious and compassionate in the way we start

exploring our new behaviour, thoughts and responses. We have to be aware that this

will have an impact on those around us; however, this should not stop us from

honouring our Truth; we just need to do it wisely and compassionately.

This completes the first theme of The way of the mindful warrior. Next, I begin to

explore the theme of ‘courage’ as we continue the journey towards mindfulness.

8.4.2 COURAGE

The second theme emerging from the narrative is that of courage. This theme frames

the next three components of the model: (i) Learning about meditation as a foundation,

(ii) understanding emotions and (iii) revealing our conditioned narratives.

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(i) Meditation as foundation

Here I introduce the practice of meditation, Component 4 of the spiritual model, to

develop mindfulness as a way of being. I start with a description of how thoughts are

processed in one’s brain, through either the narrative circuit (the past and the future,

which is mostly negative and is only perception or illusion); or through the circuit of

direct experience (the present; experienced as peace and presence). The following

diagrammatic representation is an outline of the discussion that follows:

Figure 8.6: The Narrative Circuit, and the Circuit of Direct Experience

The narrative circuit

People live most of their lives absorbed in the narrative circuit in their brain (Farb et

al., 2009). In other words, we live in a story in our heads. When driving in your car do

you notice the sensation of the seat underneath your legs? Can you feel the warmth

of the sun on your shoulders and notice the colour of the sky? It is unlikely. Mostly,

what you are doing is thinking about that meeting that you had this morning or worrying

about what that person meant when they came into your office and said the project

was poorly presented.

When you wash the dishes do you feel the shape of the dish, the slippery sensation

of the soap suds and the warmth of the water? Rather, you’re thinking about what you

have to do tomorrow, what you’re going to cook for dinner, or why your child is not

getting on with their homework.

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This constant mind-chatter and preoccupation with the past or the future is exhausting.

The narrative has some key features, including (i) the past and the future; (ii) it is

mostly negative; (iii) it is merely perception and illusion; and (iv) it produces profound

destructive physiological effects.

(i) The past and the future. The story in your head, the ‘narrative circuit’, is always in

the past or in the future (Rock, 2009; Tang, Holzel, & Posner, 2015; Tang & Posner,

2008). When we are in the past, we are thinking about what went wrong, what we

could’ve or should’ve done, or we wonder ‘why me’? We groove the neural pathways

in our minds about things that have already occurred. Alternatively, we are in the

future, thinking about what we should do, have to do, and what could go wrong, or

may not happen.

(ii) Mostly negative. When we are in the past or the future narrative, our thinking is

mostly negative. Our brains are wired for negativity. We are biologically programmed

to look out for things that can go wrong, rather than things that could go right (Ochsner,

2008). Focusing on a delicious chocolate cake is not going to keep me alive but paying

a lot of attention to the gun in the attacker’s hand could save me. When our ancestors

were wandering around on the savannah, they needed to pay much more attention to

the tiger that could eat them than to the lovely juicy berries. The juicy berries would be

there the next day, but they wouldn’t be if the tiger ate them. Although we may no

longer be fighting off sabre-tooth tigers, we are experiencing threats in the modern

world. Although not all our thinking about the past is negative, because of the way our

brains are adapted to survive, we focus more on what is a threat than what is a reward.

We don’t spend time thinking about what a wonderful day we had, how delicious the

lunch was and the friendly person in the office. Rather, we think about what we did

wrong what we should’ve done, could’ve done, and we regret or feel guilty about what

we did or didn’t do. In our minds, we spin a wheel of recriminations and

disappointments over and over again.

In the same way, when we think about the future we are not thinking: “Life is just going

to be wonderful from here on and I’m going to become happier and happier.” Rather,

we worry about what could go wrong; we are fearful and anxious, and we obsess about

potential problems or catastrophes. Again, this is not to say that we don’t ever think

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positive thoughts but predominantly our focus is on what could go wrong, focusing on

a potential threat.

Everyone gets worried and anxious from time to time. The feeling of worry is

similar to one of excitement but accompanied by a sense of unease,

apprehension, fear or self-doubt and the anticipation of a threat of some kind

(Boyes, 2008, p. 134).

(iii) Perception and illusion. When we think about our past, we are merely revisiting

our perception of what happened. How often have you thought that somebody said

something, only to discover later they meant something completely different? We

sometimes react to an apparent threat and later regret it because it emerges that the

situation we responded to was not as we had perceived it to be. Similarly, when we

project into the future, we are not thinking about reality. The future is illusion. We do

not know what is going to happen and we often anticipate a problem or difficulty that

never materialises. When I have a flight to catch, I live in the 2 a.m.-grand-prix-neural-

circuit of worrying what happens if I miss my flight, or if there is a delay and I miss the

connection. It either doesn’t or it does happen. Worrying and anticipating will not

change that. This is not to say we do not plan for the future and learn from the past.

But we need to do it in a present-centred way.

(iv) Physiological effects. Not only can future and past negative thinking be exhausting

both psychologically and emotionally, but it also has an impact on our physical well-

being. Merely thinking negative thoughts prompts the body to prime itself for a threat

response. Adrenalin rises, which triggers the concurrent release of cortisol into the

system. The effects of the adrenalin and the cortisol is known as ‘allostatic load’. This

where our blood sugar rises, immune system function lowers, blood increases and

rational thinking becomes hampered (Farb et al., 2007; Gordon, 2009; Hassad, 2008;

Rock, 2009).

The past is a place of regret, recrimination, guilt and disappointment. The future circuit

owns worry, fear, anxiety, obsessing and anticipating. We need to find an alternative,

healthier and more productive way to process our thoughts that will enable us to get

out of future and past meanderings and bring our attention to the present.

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The circuit of direct experience

The other way of processing in our brain is the circuit of direct experience (Farb et al.,

2007). This is the circuit that is activated when we are actively and consciously in the

present moment. When one is in the present, there is no story in your head. We just

are. Developing the ability to focus our thinking on the present, at will, requires

practice. This may best be done using a meditation technique that is easily accessible

to Westerners called mindfulness meditation, as discussed in chapter 4. To learn this,

one does not need to spend years in an ashram practising clearing our minds in the

way many Eastern meditation techniques require. Meditation is often perceived as

difficult for Westerners who have usually not spent years learning the art of controlling

their mind. Mindfulness as a meditation practice is easy to learn, accessible and

understandable. This component of the model is described in the figure below:

Figure 8.7: Component 4: Mindfulness Meditation

The Buddhist practice of mindfulness meditation involves openness to the present and

is defined as a “dispassionate, non-evaluative and sustained moment-to-moment

awareness of perceptible mental states and processes” (Grossman et al., 2004, in

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Hassad 2008, p. 6). Through a mindfulness meditation, I draw attention to the present

through sensory experiences. The non-judgemental approach inherent in the

definition, allows us to merely notice when our mind wanders without analysing it,

getting stressed or disappointed; gently bringing our attention back to the present. If

we judge ourselves, we are back in the narrative circuit. The power of the meditation

lies in the ability to notice the thoughts that intrude, dispassionately, while returning

the attention to the desired focus (Hanh, 1976; Kok & Singer, 2016; Neale, 2006).

I invite the reader to listen to the audio of my mindfulness meditation

online.74 This is then reflected on in Activity 4, placed in Appendix A,

to deepen an understanding of the value of meditation as a

mindfulness practice.

Appendix A: Activity 4. Mindfulness meditation reflection.

Professor Tang, a scientist with the Chinese government, published research that

shows how 10 minutes of mindfulness practice a day can profoundly improve one’s

mental and physical health (Rock & Tang, 2009). His study shows how regular and

brief mindfulness meditation sessions can lower one’s blood pressure, reduce cortisol

levels by up to 50%, and significantly increase your immune system function and

sense of wellbeing and calm (Tang et al., 2007; Tang & Posner, 2008).75

The more you practise mindfulness meditation, the easier it becomes and the more

effective its outcomes; however, I often laughingly comment in training programmes

that it is easier to ask a senior executive to increase their turnover by 10% than to ask

them to do 10 minutes of mindfulness practice a day. In the frantic pace of life in the

21st century, there is a consciousness of ‘doing’ rather than ‘being’. When people do

engage in a meditation routine, this is the one practice, they tell me years later, that

changed their lives!

74 This may be downloaded from http://www.brainwise.co.za/index.php/blog#. 75 Chapter 4 details the benefits of mindfulness meditation.

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Mindfulness meditation is a practice that can be done at almost any time in almost any

place. Paying attention to any of your daily experiences such as tasting your food,

listening to music, being present with your children and your loved ones are simple

ways to become still. See the colours and hear the sounds as you are stuck in traffic.

Notice how you walk into the meeting and how you are present in that meeting. I have

come to love queues because they offer me an opportunity for mindfulness practice.

Note 3 presented in Appendix A, shares some ideas for creating opportunities for

meditation.

Appendix A. Note 3. Tips for engaging with a mindfulness meditation practice

Having presented mindfulness meditation as practical means to develop the ability to

attune to the present. We can now turn to Component 5 of the model – an

understanding of emotions – and learn the danger of invalidating our own and others’

emotional states.

(ii) Sentiments of emotion

In this section, I shall use what is commonly known as the iceberg theory of human

functioning. The ‘iceberg’ was drawn from Winefield and Peay’s (1991) likening of a

Freudian approach to personality to an iceberg. It draws from the conceptualisation of

the id (unconscious), ego (subconscious) and superego (conscious). The integration

or conflict between these three levels of functioning is seen as the source of

personality (Pervin, 1989). Used in systems theory by Goodman (2002), the iceberg

describes the patterns and mental models that underlie behaviour and outcomes. The

interplay between conditioning (beliefs and identity), emotion, cognition and the

resulting behaviour as a basis for understanding human functioning is used in The way

of the mindful warrior process.

Component 5 shows that our visible outcomes are based on what is taking place

'beneath the surface'. Our actions and results are above the level of the water – the

observable, behavioural realm. Feelings and thoughts are the foundation for this

reality, reflected in the invisible world of being. The source of our thoughts and

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emotions are the beliefs we have created about ourselves and the world, which arise

from our identity formed through conditioned experiences (Du Toit, 2004).

Figure 8.8: Component 5: The iceberg

This component is based on an understanding that the existential problems we

experience are not necessarily a function of an external reality, but rather a result of

the underlying mental and emotional processes through which we respond to and

interpret that reality. These processes are often so far below the level of our

consciousness that we are completely unaware of them. We form beliefs about

ourselves, and through this establish an identity and communicate this to others,

consciously or unconsciously. Others respond to this and our expectations become

our reality and confirm our thinking, which is often inaccurate (Ruiz, 2007; West &

Turner, 2008).

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We may argue that we are not positively or negatively affected directly by events in

our lives, but rather by the beliefs or mind-set we have about ourselves and the world.

If I believe I am completely capable, resourceful and full of potential, I will think in a

constructive and productive manner, it will make me feel positive and I am likely to get

effective results. I will also manage disappointment and failure because I know I have

the capacity to overcome setbacks. In contrast, if I believe I am never good enough, I

will fear failure, feel inadequate and, therefore, not take risks or challenge myself to

achieve.

The iceberg is useful as a tool to create awareness of our unconscious conditioned

beliefs and identity so that we may consciously reappraise events, choose a more

functional perspective and change potential outcomes. Working with the iceberg

requires us to (i) understand how thinking comes before emotions and, thus, (ii)

understand emotions, which allows us to (iii) manage and leverage emotions for

optimal outcomes.

(i) Thinking before emotions

Most people think that the way we feel determines how we think; in fact, it is the other

way around. The way we think creates our emotional state. Think about what you

experience in your body when you feel furiously angry – Your heart starts beating, you

can’t breathe properly, you don’t think clearly. Now, think of what happens when you

are in love… The same thing! Your heart starts beating, you can’t breathe properly,

you don’t think clearly. The difference in the emotional experience of being in love or

being furiously angry is the story that you tell yourself: ‘this is love’; or ‘this is fury’.

Let's not forget that the little emotions are the great captains of our lives and we obey

them without realizing it (Vincent Van Gogh, in Gogh, Stone & Stone, 1995, p. 441).

Various ideas have focused on whether emotion directs our thinking or the other way

around. Emerging from these theories, the attribution theory of emotion developed by

Schachter and Singer, posits that the perception and intensity of an emotion depend

largely on the causes an individual attribute to his physiological changes (Banyard &

Grayson, 2000; Gross, 2003). As mentioned in the explanation of meditation in chapter

4, emotions are, in most cases, a feeling state of the inferred cognition (automatic or

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learned cognition) of a stimulus or event (Badenhorst & Smith, 2007). Thus, we need

to acknowledge that our thinking drives our emotions and, therefore, our results.

Next, I share a reflection that describes the power of thinking to determine our

outcome.

Reflection. The Ironman Expo. 20 April 2011

At the expo for the SA Ironman, I happen to overhear a conversation between a couple

of top athletes, one of whom I knew was in with a chance of a coveted slot to Kona,

the world championships.

“I know that I am not going to do well tomorrow; I have been overseas, and the kids

have kept me up for the last two nights. Such a pity, because I have done even more

training than ever before. Oh well, it can’t be helped…”

His sense of hopelessness was pervasive.

Yes, you guessed it, while wondering among the bent, maimed and utterly triumphant

survivors at the awards evening after the race, I commiserated with the same athlete

on his “hour longer” race that he “just knew he was not going to be able to win”.

(ii) Understanding emotions

Emotions are the positive and negative ways one experiences a situation and are

necessary to drive behaviour. Neuroscientist Antonio Damasio demonstrated that

when the emotional part of the brain is damaged or removed, individuals may remain

functionally competent, but they become pathologically incapable of making decisions

(2004). That person will stand in front of the breakfast cereals at the supermarket and

be incapable of deciding which cereal to choose. Emotions drive behaviour. If South

Africans had not been emotionally uncomfortable about apartheid in South Africa, an

unjust system would have been unlikely to change

There can be no transforming of darkness into light and of apathy into movement

without emotion (Carl Jung, n.d.).

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An understanding of emotions has evolved through many disciplines, from the ancient

beliefs of Plato and Aristotle, through the Stoics, to the philosophies of Descartes,

Judeo-Christian perspectives, psychological theorists and evolutionists (Alsop, 2005;

McMahon, 2006; Oatley, 2004; Zelazo, Moscovitch, & Thompson, 2007). These and

other fields of study have engaged in understanding how we experience emotions and

what the role of emotions are in the human experience.

Mayer and Salovey (1990) state that emotions are essential for self-awareness,

wisdom and resilience. According to them, emotions are “internal events that co-

ordinate many psychological subsystems including physiological responses,

cognitions and conscious awareness” (1990, p. 186).

Although emotional intelligence and personal mastery require appropriate

management of ours and others’ emotions, we also need to understand and

acknowledge that emotions not only exist but are important for behavioural drive and

success. They are a messenger of awareness and should be understood and

leveraged functionally and experienced in their full spectrum. Anger is not bad, sad is

not bad. It is what you do with your emotions that counts, and it important that we

recognise and accept our emotional states.

(iii) Managing and leveraging emotions for optimal outcomes

We need to teach our children not to fear emotions; we ourselves need to be at peace

with our emotional states whether they are positive or negative. Imagine that the graph

in Figure 8.9 depicts the emotional voyage of your life:

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Figure 8.9: Life's emotional journey

Sometimes you’re happy, sometimes you’re sad; sometimes you’re extremely happy

and sometimes you’re totally depressed. Good things happen, and bad things happen.

Life is like that. You may know people who have vigorously oscillating graphs. Yours

may be even more intense than this one. Some may have experienced unimaginable

tragedies and transcendent happiness.

It is such a secret place, the land of tears (De Saint-Exupéry & Howard, 2000,

p. 34).

The question I like to ask is: “If this graph is your life, where have you had your greatest

learning experiences?”

The reply is always the same: At the lowest places. We know intuitively that we don’t

learn from the exciting and joyful times; they are wonderful, and we embrace them.

However, we are offered the opportunity for growth and wisdom and to build resilience

and character in the hardest of times (Neethling, 2017; Smith et al., 2015).

Why would we want to live in a band of narrow emotional experiences? I call this ‘the

Prozac zone’. This is when we take medication or use alcohol or substances to avoid

pain. Alternatively, we may use defence mechanisms such as denial, intellectualising,

projection, avoidance or other coping strategies to blunt difficult emotional

experiences; sometimes we use both (Mayer & Salovey, 1990; Winefield & Peay,

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1991). An antidepressant is great for helping chronic and clinical experiences of

depression, but unfortunately it also minimises our peak experiences. When I got

divorced, I cried for two years. For those two years, tears would pour down my face at

any moment, sometimes for days. My family was dismayed; my friends were

uncomfortable. Many of them avoided me. The message I heard over and over and

over again was: “Colleen, go and see the doctor; get something to help you.”

Why would I do that? I was just sad. I was grieving the loss of hopes and dreams and

trust. Grieving is essential for healing and recovery (Niemeyer & Anderson, 2002). If I

hadn’t felt sad, I believe that would have been a much darker testament to my

emotional intelligence. Emotions are an inevitable and necessary part of human

existence; however, a common response to emotions that I have noticed in both

personal relationships and in organisational culture is to push emotion aside. I call this

‘invalidation’. This occurs when our automatic response to our own or another’s

emotional state is to deny, to undervalue, to dismiss and, sometimes, even to mock

those emotional states. Note 4, in Appendix A, discusses this and tells one father’s

story of invalidation.

Appendix A. Note 4. Invalidation

The humanistic school of psychology believes that awareness and expression of

feeling are critical for self-awareness and actualisation (Barlow & Durand, 1995). We

wish for a life filled with happiness, peace, success and fun. There is nothing wrong

with that; but in life, sad things happen, dreadful things happen, wonderful things

happen; that is the nature of life. Asking life not to be like this is madness indeed. It is

like asking the wind not to blow, or the waves not to break, or the stars not to shine.

We need to learn to acknowledge and be present with emotional states so that we

may learn and grow and become resilient. Equally, we need to learn to be present with

others’ emotional states and not invalidate them.

My daughter, Abigail, in her short life has undergone many of life’s traumatic

experiences. Through this she has learnt courage and wisdom and compassion.

Although I would never wish hardship on her, I cannot prevent her from experiencing

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pain. Activity 5, in Appendix A, supports us to understand how we may grow in

resilience, courage, character, resourcefulness and wisdom through pain.

Appendix A. Activity 5. Learning from sad

Apart from not invalidating emotional experiences, we need to develop in ourselves,

and in others, an emotional vocabulary. The act of labelling one’s emotions has a

calming effect on the limbic system and supports emotional regulation. Neuroscientist

Matthew Lieberman showed how, when we merely label the emotions we are

experiencing, there is a reduction in the activity in our limbic system with a

corresponding increase in activity in the ventrolateral prefrontal cortex – the part of our

brain to do with self-control (Lieberman, 2007). Daniel Goleman, in his book Emotional

Intelligence (2005), identifies the following key areas of emotional wisdom:

• Recognising your emotions

• Being able to manage your emotions

• Being able to motivate yourself

• Recognising and understanding other people’s emotions

• Managing emotions in relationships.

Daniel Goleman says that: “EQ is the ability to motivate oneself and persist in the face

of frustrations; to control impulses and delay gratification to regulate one’s moods and

keep distress from swamping the ability to think; to empathize and to hope” (2005, p.

34). The study of emotions and thinking as described by the concept of emotional

intelligence (EQ), adds richness and direction to leadership development and personal

awareness in the 21st century. In the previous decades, the mere mention of ‘feelings’

in the boardroom would have had you propelled unceremoniously into the corridor.

Now, however, the popular literature of Goleman, Covey and Seligman has paved the

way with persuasive manuscripts encouraging the cognitive control of emotions

(Goleman, 2005; Covey, 1996, 1997; Seligman, 1996, 2007; Seligman, Peterson, &

Park, 2005). Emotional Intelligence has entered the lexicon of leadership. It has

become the plaything of HR professionals, and the nursery rhyme of the emotionally

literate – no longer will Senior Executive Georgie Porgie make the girls cry.

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The beauty of the soul shines out when a man bears with composure

one heavy mischance after another,

not because he does not feel them,

but because he is a man of high and heroic temper

(Aristotle 384–322 BC).

Historically, emotions were seen as a hindrance to reason and intellect, from the rage

of Achilles, to the mirth and madness of the Greek tragedies. Plato went so far as to

banish the poets because of their supposed risky connection to the emotions and the

body (Plato, 1966). From the shame and guilt-ridden Judeo-Christian perspective of

The Fall, to Freudian angst and a focus on rational decision-making and productivity

in the workplace of the 1980s and 90s, emotions have had poor press in the discourse

on human performance.

There is no question that emotions may hinder or enhance performance. To drive

functional performance, one needs to be able to regulate one’s emotions. Developing

a language for emotions supports emotional intelligence and is discussed in Note 5, which may be found in Appendix A.

Appendix A. Note 5. A language for emotions

Unfortunately, not everyone can use life’s difficulties to grow and learn. The emotions

experienced do not necessarily lift easily and quickly. Sometimes, there is a period of

darkness; there is a time to grieve. But if we allow ourselves the grace, the gentleness

and the kindness to engage with and experience our sadness and pain, we can

emerge wiser and richer. In many cultures, in times of hardship and bereavement,

once the funeral is over the grieving person is left alone. People stop visiting and stop

calling. I remember when I was 17 and my brother went missing in the Okavango

Swamps, I sat next to the tennis courts at my school, in my green blazer, brown socks

and lace-up shoes, completely unable to make sense of what was happening to my

family. I was left alone. It felt like the whole school went out of their way to avoid my

sad space. We had been taught how to be refined young ladies, we had just not been

taught how to be present with sadness and grief. Activity 6, in the Appendix, offers a

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suggested activity to be present with your and others’ painful or negative feelings

whenever they occur.

Appendix A. Activity 6. Feeling felt

Personal well-being and emotional intelligence are not only about sadness. Happy

people experience frequent positive moods and, therefore, are more likely to work

actively and positively toward their goals. They also possess skills, resources and

buffers that they value and are likely to use when necessary. A person can enhance

his state of wellbeing by understanding, managing and using his emotions in a

constructive and meaningful way. This means understanding and managing our

thinking, which introduces the next component of the model.

(iii) Mindful of thinking

Our conditioned experiences are not necessarily the automatic drivers of our lives;

rather, we have the freedom to choose and change our focus, and through this our

behaviour and outcomes. Viktor Frankl, neurologist, psychiatrist and survivor of the

holocaust, describes this as the “last of the human freedoms” (2006, p. 66), to choose

one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, recognising the fact that while we

cannot change external circumstance, we do have the choice to control our thoughts

and, therefore, our responses to those circumstances. Component 6 (Figure 8.10)

describes how our conditioned thinking about external realities influences our

perception of that reality, and our consequent emotional responses which determine

our outcomes.

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Figure 8.10: Component 6: Choose your focus

The conscious, thinking mind is a result of the awareness and interpretation of what

we perceive. This consciousness is not only an automatic response to sensory stimuli,

but entails a conceptual process, filtered through our conditioned perceptions (Siegel,

2012; Smith, 2009a). The level of thinking in the iceberg model is reinforced by the

emotional state elicited by those thought processes. Our thinking may manifest

positively or negatively depending on our interpretation and reflection of our

experiences as mediated by the level below (beliefs) and the level above (emotions).

This component reinforces the fact that we have the choice to focus on the perceived

reality and react to it; or we can choose to focus on ourselves, understanding that we

are only in control of our thinking and therefore our responses the external reality.

Viktor Frankl shares an evocative and powerful example of cognitive control in his

book Man’s Search for Meaning (2006), reflecting that the meaning of life is found in

every moment of living; Life never ceases to have meaning, even in suffering and

death. He believed that although the Nazis could impose much suffering on him, they

could not decide how he would respond to that pain. He had control over the way he

would act and react; no matter what they did, he would choose his behaviour and be

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responsible for it. Viktor Frankl lost his entire family, was degraded and tortured – and

still managed to hold his power. In Appendix A, I share Sizwe’s story in Note 6, where

he faces a traumatic memory and learns to find meaning and purpose by reframing a

horrific event in conversation.

Appendix A. Note 6. Sizwe’s story

We know intuitively that logic and emotion are seldom comfortable companions. Our

observations of the world will show the dysfunction of automatically reacting to external

circumstances. Consider Tiger Woods throwing his club across the fairway, Mike

Tyson biting off the ear of Evander Holyfield, or John McEnroe haranguing the

beleaguered umpire; not too much thinking is happening in such circumstances.

Shakespeare's writings describe an incredible spectrum of emotions of which human

beings are capable. His works suggest that he viewed human emotion as existing in

dynamic and ongoing interaction with the external landscape, often producing

unfortunate outcomes. Think of Romeo and Juliet, a disastrous 15th century version

of misperception driving tragedy.

From a holocaust survivor, the catastrophic consequences of sporting temper

tantrums and tragic literary deaths, we may learn that “[b]between stimulus and

response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our

response lies our growth and our freedom” (Covey, 1997). Activity 7, in Appendix A,

articulates an emotional regulation technique that support functional responses to

distressing circumstances, called SOAR.

Appendix A. Activity 7. SOAR

Having learnt how to use thinking and reappraisal to understand, manage and

leverage our emotions, we now move to the theme of Control. In the previous section

we learnt how our thinking, emotions and responses have been elicited through the

conditioned messages and expectations we have received throughout our lives. Here,

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the theme is further explored by understanding and challenging our conditioned

perceptions to challenge our comfort zones.

8.4.3 CONTROL

The third theme of Control explores the lowest level of the iceberg through the next

two components: (i) understanding how conditioning shapes our beliefs and identity

through the developmental lifespan and (ii) challenging us to change our limiting

beliefs to move out of the comfort zone into optimal functioning.

(i) Conditioning: shadows and light

The brush can begin its new artwork as soon as we make the decision to paint our

true identity. The beautiful colours of possibility and the translucent incandescent glow

of Truth is in our hands. It begins with an awareness of how societal norms and

expectations, our life experiences – parenting, education and peers, as well as

stereotypes, cultures, religions and role expectations – shape our perceptions of

ourselves, either positively or destructively (Figure 8.11).

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Figure 8.11: Component 7: How Conditioning affects our thinking

Whichever country I train in, whichever culture I’m speaking to, whatever age group,

socioeconomic level, educational level, status or gender, I meet disparate individuals

all carrying their own backpack of limiting assumptions, negative beliefs and crippling

emotional handcuffs. I also see individuals who have compassion, confidence and

wisdom.

I say, “The good and the bad news is that you still carry your childhood with you. The

really good news is that you have the capacity to overcome it, if you wish.”

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A healthy parental/societal/schooling system for children, as they navigate their

development and begin to craft their identity, provides unconditional positive regard

with secure, and healthy boundaries (Barlow & Durand, 1995; Pervin, 1989; Teasdale

1999). If the child has a tantrum, the parents still love the child unconditionally. They

remove the child from the situation until the child calms down. They support the child

with boundaries and appropriate consequences until the child can self-manage.

Unconditional positive regard, a term attributed to Carl Rogers of the humanistic

school of thought (Pervin, 1989), refers to the importance of accepting and supporting

another non-judgementally. Boundaries are clear and flexible enough to allow the child

to feel supported and cared for, with a degree of autonomy (Becvar & Becvar, 1996).

Positive regard combined with secure boundaries allows the child to experiment and

negotiate their world safely, allowing for the healthy establishment of their identity.

Winnicott describes the “good enough mother” whose characteristics provide the child

with a sense of self, and the ability to move through life’s challenges successfully

(Caldwell, 2011; Winnicott, 2017).

A healthy school, too, has rules and boundaries that are reasonable and allows the

child to experience the consequences of his/her behaviour in positive ways. In the

same way, healthy societal structures allow the adult to navigate his or her Truth in a

way that is supportive of individuality and diversity in a secure, bounded system

(Teasdale, 1999; Ulrich & Ulrich, 2010; Whitfield, 2010). Another way to express it is

to understand that healthy organisations, religious institutions or cultural practices

have structures and processes in place to allow personal expression in a way that is

safe and in the best interests of the individual and the community. An individual, as

they move into purposeful and optimal adult functioning, will have routines and habits

and boundaries for themselves that honour their Truth, while ensuring their own and

others’ physical, mental, emotional and spiritual wellbeing within the system (Whitfield,

2010; Wills-Brandon, 2012).

What happens when the boundaries are either too rigid or too malleable? When there

is no unconditional positive regard for oneself or others? When conditioned

expectations force us to be something that does not resonate with our authentic self?

When our emotional states are invalidated? That is when we are taken into the ‘dead

zone’. We are repressed, moulded, conditioned, expected to be someone other than

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we are and behave in ways that feels repressive or unsafe. Too far to the right of the

curve, and we experience stress and anxiety and fear and uncertainty. Too far to the

left, and we become apathetic and unfulfilled (Becvar & Becvar, 1996; Santrock,

1995).

The child or teenager manages the dissonance experienced when they do not

experience unconditional positive regard and either rigid or overly permissive

boundaries, by creating defence mechanisms such as those already mentioned –

denial, intellectualising, projection, avoidance or other coping strategies such as

pathological behaviour, addiction and/or emotional withdrawal (Mayer & Salovey,

1990; Winefield & Peay, 1991). These defence mechanisms often result in

dysfunctional behaviour.

An alternative, possibly more functional, strategy is when the individual creates limiting

beliefs to form an identity that is in alignment with the negative messages being

received. We believe these beliefs to be true, but that limits us, often in profound ways.

For centuries philosophers believed that our beliefs determine our emotional states

and outcomes; from Buddha (the destructive beliefs of the Four Noble Truths), to

Aristotle, Plato and Socrates, and many ancient Roman thinkers (David, Lynn, & Ellis,

2010). Albert Ellis (1994), in his rational emotive behaviour therapy (REBT) calls these

“irrational beliefs”. Kahler (1975) calls them “transactional analysis drivers”. More

recently, Phil McGraw has labelled them “fixed beliefs”, which when deeply ingrained

become “tapes” that “play” automatically in your head (McGraw, 2002). The Co-Active

Coaching Institute calls them “saboteurs” (Whitworth, Kimsey-House, Kimsey-House,

& Sandahl, 2010).

As constructs in psychology, rational and irrational beliefs are used to define the types

of thinking or cognition individuals have as a result of their conditioned experiences.

According to REBT, irrational beliefs lead to maladaptive behaviour and rational

beliefs result in adaptive and functional behaviour (David et al., 2010). I have termed

them ‘adaptive assumptions’. Adaptive because they are a defence mechanism that

protects us from pain, and ‘assumption’ because they are not the truth but conditioned

beliefs arising from our life experiences, parenting, education and culture. Next, I

discuss these adaptive assumptions (AAs) in some detail.

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Adaptive Assumptions

The paradox of the AA is that it keeps the individual or system relatively cognitively

intact as a child/adolescent, which is why I term it adaptive. However, it creates

limitations for an authentic identity and healthy self-esteem in later years (Daly &

Burton, 1983). It is the safety belt for growing up in a world that is a roller coaster of

uncertainty and unfairness, and where there is little or no unconditional positive regard

and poor boundaries. The AA is a defence against uncertainty, struggle and

invalidation. Although a negative frame, it is preferable to the psychological

dissonance experienced when the child or adolescent does not experience positive

regard and healthy boundaries. The result is behaviour that is maladaptive. For

example, the child that is constantly criticised develops a belief that they are ‘not good

enough’ and their behaviour in later life may display perfectionism and people

pleasing.

Many people survive horrific childhoods and traumatic events by creating an AA that

protects them. It is sadly disturbing when we witness individuals who have not

remained intact and have retreated into pathological behaviour, substance abuse and

addiction, and sometimes complete psychological disintegration, which I call ‘non-

adaptive actions (or N-AAs). Figure 8.12 presents an algorithm that explores these

possible responses to life experiences and their outcomes.

If a person experiences unconditional positive regard, they experience congruence,

respond adaptively and the outcome is well-being. If there is conditional regard and

unsafe or unclear boundaries through the developmental stages, a negative

experience causes dissonance. Tolle maintains that this mind-set in individuals is

experienced as pain and is a “tormentor in their head that continuously attacks and

punishes them and drains them of vital energy” (Tolle, 2005, p. 15).

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Figure 8.12: Algorithm showing possible responses

When the individual is mindful that the pain experienced is a conditioned belief, not

the truth; and, therefore is able to reappraise the situation and consciously choose a

more adaptive response, the individual experiences well-being.

When they are not mindful that the pain experienced is only a response to a

conditioned belief, they use defence mechanisms to avoid the pain. The individual

then either engages with N-AAs and are inevitably drawn back into dissonance and

pain and the cycle; or they engage their AAs. If they are conscious that they are

responding from a conditioned adaptive assumption, they have the option to

reappraise and respond constructively. When they are not mindful, they are inevitably

responding from a reactive threat state which, in turn, results in a fight, flight or freeze

response (FFF) (Hassad, 2008; Tang & Posner, 2008). This can take the form of

behaviours such as:

• Fight: anger, aggression, rage, attacking (physical or verbal), self or

other harm, shouting, bullying, intimidation, competitiveness, snapping

at people

• Flight: disappearing, restlessness, agitation, denial, excuses

• Freeze: silence, withdrawal, immobilisation, hiding, threat

focused/rumination, depression, disengagement.

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The physical manifestation of these responses may take the form of tightened

muscles, knotted stomach, heat, crying, stiffness, heaviness, pounding heart, rapid

breathing and numbness (Carson & Butcher, 1992; Porges, 2011).

This response reinforces the lack of unconditional positive regard (this time for

themselves), which in turn strengthens the AA. For example, the ‘not good enough’

belief is triggered when the individual receives external messages that he or she is

incompetent or wrong and, if the individual is not mindful of their AA, this can result in

an automatic FFF response which reinforces the ‘not good enough’ belief. Being aware

that their threat response is only a manifestation of their AA will allow them to return

to congruence and choose a more adaptive behaviour. Pieter’s story, shared in

appendix A, demonstrates how awareness of his AA transformed his life.

Appendix A. Note 7. Pieter’s story

The defining life experiences that create AAs could relate to society, parents,

caregivers, schooling, religion, culture, or a political system. The following table details

the possible life experiences that people face, reflecting the state of a parent, sibling,

or any primary person in that person’s life (David et al., 2010; Gross, 2003). Some

possible negative resulting behaviours are explored. This list is by no means

exhaustive nor is it a formula. It should not be used as an evaluation out of context or

without professional support. The AA may also be a highly functional strategy as a

coping mechanism. Many AAs can even create superior functioning and extraordinary

success; it is being conscious of the AA than enables us to choose our responses.

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Table 8.1: Examples of adaptive assumptions 76

Parenting style/experience Adaptive assumptions Possible negative

resulting behaviour Depression I must not show emotion.

I am responsible for everyone’s happiness. I have to be good so that I don't make him/her sadder.

Doesn't express emotions well Disconnect from emotional states Looks after everyone else Poor communication

Alcoholic/addiction Life is unsafe. I have to be good. I am responsible.

Exaggerated sense of responsibility Fear of losing control Contained, inexpressive Approval seeking Takes things personally Co-dependant Low self-esteem

Dominant/harsh I have to be good. I must be perfect. I must fit in. My best is never enough. I am powerless. I can’t trust myself I have to be contained

Approval and reassurance seeking Overworking Dissatisfaction with self and others Perfectionism Poor management of change

Permissive Life is not safe. No one cares for me. I have no support.

Chaos and ambiguity Lack of personal discipline

Absent I have no support. I am alone. I am not loveable. I don't belong.

Dysfunctional relationships Expects betrayal/betrays Doesn’t trust Poor boundaries

Physical illness/disability

I must not show vulnerability. I must be good. I have to look after everyone else.

Rescuing and over-responsible Lack emotional flexibility Perfectionism

76 Drawn from Daly and Burton (1983), Bernard (1995), Chang and D’Zurilla (1996), Franks (1995),

David et al. (2010); David, Freeman, & DiGiuseppe (2010) and McGraw (2002).

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Table 8.1: Examples of adaptive assumptions (cont’d) Parenting style/experience Adaptive assumptions Possible negative

resulting behaviour First child I have to be responsible.

I have to be perfect. Overwork Perfectionism Overly critical of self and others

Second child I am not important. I have to compete. I am not good enough.

Overly competitive Approval seeking Perfectionism

Late child I am not wise/old enough/capable.

Inferiority Lack accountability

Avoidant I must try harder. I have to be better than everyone else. I don't belong.

Overwork Perfectionism Poor boundaries

Gender stereotyping Boys don't cry. Girls must stay at home. Boys have to be strong/women are weak. I have to obey males. I should not engage in opposite gender activities. I must not express emotions/strength.

Rigid or dysfunctional perceived gender identity Limiting behaviours and choices

Trauma/tragedy Life is hard. I am not allowed to have fun. Nothing is safe. I must not grieve. Men/women disappear.

Lack of light heartedness Work obsessed Perfectionist Lack of trust Overly responsible Anxious

Unloving I don't count. I am not important. I am not worthy.

Poor boundaries Self-sacrificing Low self-worth Isolation Problem avoidance

Chaotic I have to be good/perfect. The world is unsafe.

Perfectionism Isolation Constrained personality

Rigid I have to be vigilant. I have to be contained.

I have no rights I can’t trust myself Contained/inexpressive

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Table 8.1: Examples of adaptive assumptions (cont’d) Parenting style/experience Adaptive assumptions Possible negative

resulting behaviour Abuse I am worthless.

I am immobilised/paralysed. I am bad.

Victim mentality Poor boundaries Sexual Dysfunction/compulsion Depression and anxiety Self-injury/suicide Lack of personal care

Note 8, in appendix A, shares how the AA of a client (an adult child growing up with

an alcoholic parent) profoundly limited the client’s functioning.

Appendix A. Note 8. An adult child of an alcoholic

Looking at how AAs are created may usefully be explored through an understanding

of the developmental stages, as described by Erikson (Santrock, 1995). These

developmental stages include crises of

• Trust versus Mistrust (Birth – 12 months)

• Autonomy versus Shame and Doubt (1–3 years)

• Initiative versus Guilt (3–5 years)

• Industry versus Inferiority (6–10 years)

• Identity versus Role confusion (11–18 years)

• Intimacy versus Isolation (18–34 years)

• Generativity versus Stagnation (35–60 years)

• Ego Integrity versus Despair (60 years to death)

As we travel through the stages of our development, we respond to the external

environment and to our thoughts and feelings to resolve these crises. When the crisis

is not navigated successfully, because there is no safe unconditional positive regard

that values the unique Truth of the individual, he or she experiences the negative

opposite (Gross, 2003; McGraw, 2002; Santrock 1995; Snyder & Lopez, 2002). For

example, in adolescence, a youth who is not allowed to develop a sense of self and

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identity because of an overly permissive or restrictive environment may develop an

AA or n-AA that leads to a dysfunctional outcome.

When we reflect on our restrictive or negative childhood experiences – whether

intense or mild, we typically say, ‘it was not that bad’. We cannot even imagine that it

should have been otherwise (that is the power of conditioning). Often, we think or feel

that we ‘deserved’ it, or it was ‘normal’ or ‘unavoidable’. These are the stories we tell

that make the unpleasant reality palatable. However, the small child, the vulnerable

adolescent and the uncertain young adult is not able to cognitively appraise negative

experiences with the full, wise capacity of the rationalising adult and therefore

responds to a distressing reality with self-defence mechanisms, not logic and

reasoning, when not supported by nurturing and safe, parenting and environments.

Activity 8, in appendix A, provides a guide for the self-discovery of AAs.

Appendix A, Activity 8. Adaptive assumption sourcing

The AA saves the child who cannot trust their caregiver to respond to their needs from

unmanageable psychological dissonance. It is an adaptive response for the child who

is not allowed to experiment and experience failure and success, the youth who has

to fit external expectations of how they should think, feel and behave, and the

adolescent who is not encouraged to apply appropriate discipline and

experimentation. The psyche adapts to the discomfort of this external environment

through the use of an AA. Note 8, in appendix A, shares the story of a client as she

uncovers her AAs.

Appendix A. Note 8. Discovering the dragon – Daleen’s story

In Note 8, in a dialogue with a client, I introduce a dragon archetype to explain how

our AAs lurk stealthily and invisibly behind every action we take and every decision

we make (David et al., 2010; McGraw, 2002). A characterisation of the AA, in this case

a dragon, is used as an anchor that we can identify when we find ourselves reacting

or overreacting to external feedback or events. By noticing the dragon, we start to

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learn how to manage the AAs and replace them with the Truth, which is also depicted

as a metaphorical person or creature (Whitworth et al., 2010). The first step, however,

is to recognise where they came from. I share a reflection of my AA:

My AAs arose out of a strict, British-style upbringing (parents, school and community),

which made me never feel quite good enough. I thought I was not capable, sensible

nor supported. My most intense AA arose out of my brother’s descent into mental

illness. I decided that I was responsible for everybody else’s wellbeing and safety and

spent years as the rescuer for every person that I perceived needed my help. Rescuing

made me feel important and it made me feel as though I had control over my world.

My AAs are ‘I am not supported’, ‘I am never good enough’ and ‘I am not important’. I

experience a primitive pain whenever I feel I am receiving these messages. These are

my psychological buttons. They have been the most difficult, pervasive and persistent

AAs for me; sometimes I still struggle with them, but now I am conscious when my AA

rears its head and am often able to use conscious presence to respond rather than

react to external events.

I call my saboteur: ‘Aswang’ (a shape-changing spirit who sees reflections upside

down and eats unborn foetuses and small children – an indication both of how

damaging and difficult I found my AAs, as well as my macabre sense of humour). My

Aswang can lash out with a clever, vicious tongue that hurts, and causes me and the

recipient enormous pain. I have fed my Aswang for years with negative self-talk and

destructive actions. Even now, I must be vigilant to remain aware of my Aswang. It

mostly emerges when I am tipping over the edge of the curve or am not mindful and

present in my life.

Every person can be mindful of their conditioned beliefs and resulting automatic

responses to life. To become mindful, however, we first need to understand how our

conditioning has created the AAs and how these divert us from our Truth. It can be a

daunting journey of discovery, certainly, for the unaware, the faint-hearted or the

unwilling. It is far easier to cling onto our AAs as they are protective mechanisms we

have formed early in life and reinforced ever since. When we have the courage and

mindfulness to look with clear eyes at the effects of conditioning and our unconscious

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response to our environment, we open up the possibility of creating magnificent and

unencumbered lives. Activity 9, in Appendix A, shares a process for shifting the AAs

to more functional beliefs.

Appendix A, Activity 9. Turning your AA inside out

We have the freedom to choose our emotional responses. This often begins with

changing our relationship to our belief systems. In addition, we find inner peace and a

harmonious emotional state when we live in alignment with our values. It is from this

state that we can develop emotional wellness and step into possibility. These values

have often been suppressed by conditioned adaptive assumptions that limit us. The

way of the mindful warrior is a challenge to look deeply and honestly into our

experiences so that we may begin to step into our full potential, as we see in the next

component of the model.

(ii) Get out of the feather bed

Habits ensure that we exist in a comfort zone that requires minimal effort to maintain.

The conscious, thinking brain is resource intensive and is designed to create patterns

of responses in our subconscious and unconscious that allow us to perform our daily

routines efficiently (Rock, 2009; Siegel, 2007). I sometimes call the comfort zone the

‘uncomfortable zone’, not only because it keeps us from reaching our full potential, but

because it is also automatic and seductive. Existing in a comfort zone is a choice,

does not involve courage and does not require self-control. It is easy and, therefore,

we become addicted to staying there. Sustainable change, however, requires focused

action and commitment. Whether a physical, mental, social or emotional habit, change

is not easy (Barlow & Durand, 1995; Covey, 1997).

The component of the model presented here is a challenge to change negative habits,

resisting the brain’s and body’s natural default to homoeostasis. Habits are an

adaptive response to conserve resources for our body and our mind (Rock, 2009).

The way we walk, talk, brush our teeth and open the car door are all habits that are

hardwired in us. Can you imagine having to focus on brushing your teeth every

morning in the same way you had to do long division?

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Figure 8.13: Component 8: Stepping out of the comfort zone into your Truth

In Figure 8.13, the circle on the right represents the person full of possibility and

potential, with the capacity to be completely resourceful, intact, capable and creative

(Whitworth et al., 2010). The circle on the left is how we are showing up in the world,

limited by conditioned beliefs and actions arising out of societal and parental

expectations (our AAs). This ensures that we think we are less than we really are.

Think about the invalidations we receive telling us not to be who we are, feel what we

feel and do what we naturally do. As an awkward and mischievous child, I was

frequently castigated for breaking things and disrupting the adults’ world. I spent my

teenage years and my early adulthood convinced that I was clumsy, unattractive, not

bright; and anything but creative and resourceful. I was firmly incarcerated in the tiny

circle of my perceived identity. Change, however, is experienced as a threat state

because adapting to change requires energy and resources, both physical and mental

(Rock & Schwartz, 2008).

I compare the shift out of living in the uncomfortable zone as akin to the experience of

a cocaine addict giving up their addiction. The cocaine addict, handcuffed to the circle

on the left, cannot see any other way of existing. All they understand and believe is

that only a life with cocaine is possible. They have forgotten what it was like when they

were 10 or 15 years old, before they trained their mind and body to be dependent on

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a substance (Melemis, 2015). In much the same way, we are addicted to our limiting

beliefs, our AAs about the world and about ourselves. We have spent years hardwiring

them into our brains and they have become our identity.

It requires enormous courage and effort for the cocaine addict to move to the circle on

the right, free from dependency on their drug. Sometimes it requires reaching the

depths of deprivation or a catalytic or traumatic precipitating event. Literally or

metaphorically, the addict discovers themselves lying in the gutter before they can

begin to move away from the addiction (Melemis, 2015; Sinha, 2011). In the same

way, it often takes a catalytic event for us to see how our AAs are limiting us, and we

can begin the difficult task of moving to a more powerful belief system, discovering

that “happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that but simply growth.

We are happy when we are growing” (WB Yeats, 1946, p. 144).

I again use the metaphor of the dragon, described in detail in Appendix A, to describe

that dependence. People are not born addicted. The first inhalation of the snow-white

powder or prick of the hypodermic needle introducing the drug into an uncontaminated

system creates the dragon, an imaginary, self-imposed need (Carr, 2006; NIDA,

2007). Every time the addict uses his substance, it feeds the dragon. It gets stronger

and more insistent and hungrier, it is seductive, captivating and hypnotising.

Eventually, the person is unable to imagine a life not dancing with their dragon. In fact,

they fall in love with their dragon, not recognising that it is an illusion, a false reality. A

mythical creature that has assumed gigantic proportions with an all-consuming power.

The dragon as lover requires constant attention. It holds the addict imprisoned in the

circle on the left.77

In the same way as the addict is entranced by their substance, we are addicted to our

beliefs about the world and ourselves. Our AAs are our cocaine. We create our AAs

as a response to a world that is psychologically unmanageable. They serve to modify

challenging developmental experiences, but paradoxically they also become our jailer

and saboteur (David et al., 2010; McGraw, 2002; Whitworth et al., 2010).

77 I first came across the idea for this metaphor in Allan Carr’s (2006) book on how to give up

smoking, where he uses the analogy of a monster to describe tobacco addiction.

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Should the addict go to rehabilitation to wean themselves off the drug, they face great

psychic, emotional and physiological withdrawal symptoms which may be experienced

as unbearable (Fisanick, 2009; NIDA, 2007). Rehabilitation is a step-by-step process

that takes time, effort and will. The person moves slowly and agonisingly towards the

circle on the right. The dragon begins to shrink, to die. It does not take this lying down.

It fights and pummels and wails in agony as it is deprived of its cocaine sustenance.

The recovering addict takes small steps to the circle on the right, away from feeding

the dragon. It is like stepping forward with an elastic tied to their ankle. Each step is

agonisingly slow and difficult. Occasionally, the elastic snaps the addict straight back

into the fantasy world of the dragon’s malevolent kingdom where they again devour

the substance that feeds and temporarily appeases the dragon’s need, the craving.

Immediately, the cycle of addiction reasserts itself and the downward spiral resumes.

The addict does not realise that every time he/she consumes the cocaine, they are

feeding the dragon. The spiral becomes a self-imposed, self-fulfilling prophecy. It

becomes the designer of the addict’s reality. In the same way, when we are

unconscious of our AAs, we feed them with real or imagined evidence that support

their existence. The AA of ‘I am not important’ notices when others are offered

refreshments and they are ignored, they experience it as a personal slight, not an

oversight. The AA of ‘I am responsible’, cannot say no when their boss asks them to

come in and take the minutes for an unexpected after-hours meeting, even if it means

they will miss their daughter’s ballet recital. The AA of ‘I am ugly’ will look in the mirror

and only see imperfection and unsightliness. This evidence, which is merely

conditioned perception and an unconscious response, becomes the self-fulfilling

reality that, in turn, feeds the dragon. A negative feedback loop is created (David et

al., 2010; Smith, 2009b).

I know my dragon intimately. After school I fed it cigarettes and brandy and coke, low

self-esteem, obesity and failure. My dragon got stronger and more arrogant and all-

consuming. I was like a woman in an abusive relationship, the kidnapped victim

infatuated with her captor. In this case, my relationship was with my dragon.

Whether we are talking about the drug addict or ourselves as AA addicts, the mental

shift happens when we finally understand the joy and power of withholding the fuel

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that the dragon cries out for. The addict can reframe the withdrawal symptoms as

exciting and empowering. The dragon’s insistence on being fed is only a death cry as

it loses its power. It is shrinking and calling for the sustenance of the substance. We

can celebrate as we begin to notice our AAs call for attention, knowing that it is not the

Truth and we have alternative, conscious responses that will halt the spiral of self-

destruction.

Come to the edge.

We might fall.

Come to the edge.

It’s too high!

COME TO THE EDGE!

And they came,

and he pushed,

and they flew

(Logue, 1969 p. 65)

The addict may be encouraged to small successes through the support of other people

and by focusing on a vision of what life would be like without the addiction (Carr, 2006;

Fisanick, 2009). When we become aware of the destructiveness of the AA and begin

to experience a life of peace, what keeps us committed is a clear and strong belief in

the possibility of living in the circle on the right. Although the lure of the AA is still there,

it has less and less effect as the grip of the dragon weakens. If we are snapped back,

we will need to recommit each time. Once again, the painstaking journey towards the

circle on the right side, the Truth, begins. The personification of the negative beliefs

underlying our identity, as well as the Truth identity, supports a mindful approach to

releasing the grip of the belief. The personification of my Truth is the warrior archetype.

This is explored in Appendix A, Activity 10.

Appendix A. Activity 10. Identify your dragon and your Truth

Understanding that our conditioned beliefs drive our responses, allows us to begin the

process of consciously changing automatic thoughts and emotions, that allow more

adaptive behaviour and outcomes. The concept of intentionality described in the

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mindfulness literature introduces the next component of the model as a means to focus

attention on more functional thoughts, emotions and behaviours.

(iii) Actualising and transcending through intention

Intentionality is a desired, conscious and focused orientation to experience that

enables skilful and efficient responses (Kleiner, 2015; Langer & Moldoveanu, 2000).

This means that we decide how and where to place our attention. This enables us to

determine our desired functioning and outcomes, rather than be slave to an automatic

response (Langer, 1989; Ngnoumen & Langer, 2014, Rock, 2009).

Figure 8.14: Component 9: Intentionality

I introduce intentionality as component of the model (Figure 8.14) in the mindfulness

literature (chapter 5) focusing on the importance of intention. When I walk into a room

to teach, I consciously and intentionally decide that I am going to be completely

present with the group, see them as unique and know that, whoever is there is meant

to be there. Also, I set the intention that I will put all my passion and knowledge into

my presentation and deliver to the best of my ability. This intentional approach ensures

that I remain fresh and focused in the session when delivering material that I have

often delivered hundreds of times before.

Other words for intentional include deliberate, planned, intended, premeditated,

calculated, voluntary and purposeful. The antonym is accidental, unplanned,

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involuntary, unintentional, unwilling (Merriam-Webster, 2017). Valuable questions to

support self-awareness include asking: “Am I intentional in the way I live my life, or am

I functioning on automatic?” “Am I purposeful or accidental?”

To answer this question, consider the following:

• Do you taste your food?

• Are you present with your child/loved one, or are you thinking about what

you still need to do?

• Have you noticed the sky, and the air and the light today?

• Did you walk into the meeting with the intention of really listening?

• Are you open to alternative opinions on any area of your expertise?

• Have you really heard the music?

• Are you the master of your destiny, or the slave to a conditioned

narrative?

Being intentional allows response-flexibility, empathy and non-judgement. Jon Kabat

Zinn calls this cultivating a “beginners mind” (2012, p. 124), which allows one to be

strategic and thoughtful in behaviour and interactions, as well as to experience the

world in a rich, open-minded and unprejudiced way, uncontaminated by conditioned

thoughts and beliefs. Activity 11, in Appendix A shares some questions to provoke

intentional thinking.

Appendix A. Activity 11. Power questions for Intentionality

Effective and powerful thinking is possible when we are intentional rather than on

automatic. Here I introduce five principles of intentionality that are aligned to the key

themes emerging from the narrative: Choice, Courage, Control and Commitment to

finally, becoming an intentional warrior of the mind. They are: (i) set intentions; (ii)

positive and purposeful; (iii) open to possibility; (iv) effort and (v) unleashing the inner

warrior.

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Choice

(i) Principle 1 - Set intentions

Setting intentions allows us to be deliberate about how we are present in any context,

and what we pay attention to. Ellen Langer, a professor at Harvard University and

Boston University has written a book called Counter Clockwise (2009), which she has

made freely available online. The book refers to an iconic 1979 study conducted by

her and her research assistants. They noticed that elderly people in nursing homes

were experiencing little choice and few opportunities to make decisions for

themselves. In the study, an experimental group of men in their late seventies were

taken to a holiday retreat. This was a controlled environment that was set up to mimic

their lives from twenty years before. They were shown movies from that time, news

reels, pictures, they were told to talk and think ‘as if’ it was 1959. The results from the

study were remarkable. The men’s short-term recall, posture, hearing, manual

dexterity and other faculties improved significantly. They were also able to function

more independently.

The counter clockwise study is an example of the power of controlling our thoughts to

change our physiology, as well as our emotional and mental competence and

outcomes.

Being intentional may be supported by activities like the following:

• Goal setting – for academic achievements, career, relationships,

professional application, sports, self-confidence, peace-of mind;

essentially anything you wish to achieve (Rock, 2001).

• Visualisations – picturing yourself speaking powerfully on stage, or

executing the perfect tennis serve (Whitworth et al., 2010).

• Ritual and routines – every morning I have a mindfulness practice

where I am present in nature – I choose one aspect like grass, a flower,

or the sounds of the birds and pay attention to its quality for some

minutes.

• Mantras – although spiritual traditions see mantras as sacred

utterances, they have more recently entered western motivational

literature as positive incantations that aid cognitive direction of thoughts

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to influence the subconscious mind (Brown, 2003; Altman, 2010). An

example would be: ‘I am worthy, I am healthy, I am at peace.’

The following reflection from my journal where I intentionally engaged my focus in a

significant sporting activity should be helpful:

Reflection from my journal: My first Iron Man competition – March 2009

I absorb each moment in my head; I experience every sensation, every sound, every

colour. Zulu dancers stomp and jangle, beating their drums while the waves crash onto

the beach. I know exactly what to do because I have practised it over and over in my

mind.

Following a few athletes into the water to get used to the temperature, I pull the

swimming cap down over my goggles, and push them against my face with a flat hand

to ensure that all the air escapes and no water can get in.

I listen to the drums, and the drone of a loudspeaker giving last minute suggestions

on how to handle the wind and the tide. Then the cannon reverberates, and I allow the

rush of bodies to hit the waves ahead of me and cautiously jog along on the edge of

the mass of swimmers, almost up to my thighs before plunging into the icy water. “Slow

and steady”, I chant my mantra in my head. “Slow and steady.” Knowing that I must

keep my heart rate down or I will succumb to the panic attacks that I have experienced

so often in previous triathlons. I seem to be keeping clear of the ‘washing machine’,

as the IM swim is fondly known, and feel the occasional slap of a hand and kick of a

foot, but nothing that throws me off my stroke.

I imagine that I am in the warm swimming pool at the Virgin Active gym, and I start to

stroke the water, visualising myself pacing up and down the safety of the lanes,

confidently – as far away from the cold Indian Ocean as my imagination will take me.

Setting intentions allows us to choose our responses to circumstances in a pre-

planned, deliberate and curious manner that is uncontaminated by conditioned

perceptions and expectations (Langer, 2014).

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Courage

(ii) Principle 2 – Positive and purposeful

The narrative circuit is the circuit in our brain engaged in anxious, ruminating, worried,

fearful and regretful thinking. In contrast, when we are in direct experience, we become

centred and purposeful. The future is just an illusion and the past only a perception of

our experiences. The present is the place where we are open to learning without

opinion and judgement clouding our experience (Kabat-Zinn, 2011; Rock, 2009,

Siegel, 2007a). Being positive and purposeful allows us to choose activities and

experiences that challenge us (Covey, 2008; Pink, 2005). Having the courage to learn

a new skill or practise a new behaviour allows us to be open to possibility and step out

of our conditioned biases and out of our comfort zone.

Using positive self-talk and affirmations is a way of reinforcing new desirable neural

circuits in our brain. Changing behaviour takes courage and requires that we choose

what to focus on and pay attention to. The principles of purposeful and positive focus

ensures that the intentional thoughts train our subconscious mind in alignment with

what we desire and not what we fear.

Control

(iii) Open to possibility/energy flow

In one of her powerful TED talks in 2014, Carol Dweck78 talks about the Power of Yet.

She encourages us to release ourselves from the tyranny of self-doubt into the belief

of our possibility. A limiting statement I have used is ‘I can’t dance’. Carol Dweck

advises us to put the word ‘yet’ after any limiting statement. When I said the words, ‘I

can’t dance yet...’, I was opened to the possibility that this was a skill I have the power

to conquer. I subsequently booked dancing lessons with a professional instructor and

am now able to move reasonably competently on a dance floor.

An innovative schooling system called Spark Schools in South Africa teaches

practices of mindfulness as part of its philosophy of education. One of the executives

told me in a session that the children do a mindfulness meditation at the beginning of

78 https://www.ted.com/talks/carol_dweck_the_power_of_believing_that_you_can_improve.

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each school day. She tells me that the teachers ask the children before every class:

‘Pay attention to what you think is the most interesting piece of information for you

from this class today.’ In other words, bringing the children’s intentional attention to

the present. This is then reflected on at the end of the day. The children are thrilled to

share what the most interesting thing was for them every day.

Being open to new information and experiences transcends linear, stereotypical

thinking. Being mindfully intentional allows one to see, listen, hear, feel and experience

an object, person, experience or activity as though for the first time. Langer (2014)

talks about making novel distinctions. We are trapped by categories such as identity,

rules, roles, masculine and feminine, success and failure, talents and abilities. She

suggests that these classification systems limit our innovation and creativity. Instead

of wondering, ‘can I?’, she proposes ‘how can I? Instead of saying, ‘this is a ball,’ try

‘this could be a ball’.

Langer’s work resonates with Edward de Bono’s (1985) six thinking hats. He uses the

hat metaphor as a structure for the conscious direction of creative thought. He labels

these as managing, information, emotions, discernment, optimistic response and

creativity. Each hat is symbolised by a colour which enables an individual or group to

metaphorically choose a hat and direct their thinking from that perspective; similarly,

the Blue Man Group, a world-famous improvisation theatre group, uses six archetypes

to facilitate their dramatic art. The archetypes are the Scientist, the Hero, the Trickster,

the Shaman, the Innocent and the Group member (Clayton, 2008). All these

techniques allow intentional and mindful conscious processing which, in turn, creates

a novel and unique direction of thought.

Allowing the flow of the present moment to guide one’s responses and mind-set is

reflected in the art and philosophy of tai chi (Chan, 1992; Sandlund & Norlander,

2000). Breathing and movement affect the vital force or energy flow in the body, which

may be leveraged for better performance. Anchoring oneself in the present in a

childlike way allows the removal of self-doubt and self-consciousness and, therefore,

opens the possibility of mastery (Brazier, 2014). Think of a child at play; they are

completely present, joyful and unaffected by doubts, suspicions, distrust and worry.

The unconditional childlike energy of possibility and flow is an enabler for intentionality.

This does, however, take effort.

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Commitment

(iv) Principle 4 – Effort

Lewis Gordon Pugh is a South African swimmer known for completing long distance

swims in the ocean. In 2007, he completed the first swim across the North Pole to

highlight the melting of ice in the Arctic Sea. He swam one kilometre in the sub-zero

temperature of the North Pole and also in a glacier lake under the summit of Mount

Everest wearing nothing but a Speedo and goggles. He speaks about his experiences,

mentioning that the first thing he does, when he embarks on his challenges, is to focus

on setting intentions for success (Pugh, 2010). Putting flags along the route to remind

himself to be complete present, he consciously lowers his heart rate and body

temperature and does focused relaxation exercises before, after and during his swims.

Pugh says that if you understand why you do whatever you do, you will put up with

almost anything.

People are often immobilised by an inability to get out of the story in their heads. This

narrative is often resonant with worry, fear and self-doubt. Mindfulness of intentionality

allows one to set goals and outcomes in a present-centred way and encourages

commitment without doubt or fear. The way of the mindful warrior process

acknowledges that change takes effort as well as a commitment to repeating and

practising the new behaviour. This brings us to the final principle of intentionality, which

pulls together the previous four themes as a means to access future success rather

than conditioned, automatic responses.

And finally:

Principle 5 – Unleashing the intentional warrior

Finally, to become an intentional warrior, we need to be willing to let go of conditioned

beliefs and limited perceived identities, to look forward from a present-centred

perspective, having learnt lessons from the past without recrimination, regret or guilt.

In setting our intentions and then stepping into our desired future state positively, open

to possibility and allowing a purposeful flow of energy; we are conscious that becoming

an intentional warrior requires courage, self-control and commitment. Most of all, it is

a choice. Note 10, in Appendix A, details putting the principles into practice in five key

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life areas: physical health, relationships, emotional health, performance, and

spirituality. Activity 12, in Appendix A is a process that enables us to be intentional

and conscious of not taking things personally.

Appendix A. Note 10. Operationalising the principles

Appendix A. Activity 12 Falling in the space

The following from my journal shares another reflection on the experience of using

these principles in overcoming potential disaster at the Iron Man competition.

Reflection from my journal: Iron man – the bike and the pain – April 2009

I wonder what I would have thought if I had known that the swim was to be the easy

part of the race. I exited the sea after 3.8 km of wrestling with the waves and

transitioned onto my bike. Ten minutes into the cycle ride, the unthinkable happened;

I was looking at my speedometer when I crashed into a cyclist who had bizarrely

stopped in the middle of the road. I somersaulted inelegantly over my handlebars and

landed hard!

All I remember was lying on the ground and thinking that nothing, but nothing, was

going to prevent me from finishing this race. The paramedics arrived, and I unfolded

my body from the tar. As I climbed back into the saddle, I heard distant voices

commenting “Oh my goodness, that looks painful.” It was!

The cycle course comprises three laps of 60 km, a total of 180 km. The first lap passed

in a haze of pain, and I called for my husband as I went through the crowds at transition

to bring me some Myprodol79 tablets. I do not remember the second lap but, on the

79 Myprodol is a form of medication for the relief of mild to moderate pain of inflammatory origin.

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third, I began to feel stronger ‒ painkiller enabled, finishing the ride in a good time. In

retrospect, I believe that Myprodol is a banned substance – hmm – who cares?

IRON MAN – THE SHUFFLE/RUN

At transition, the volunteers, who grab the bikes and ‘rack’ them as we run into the tent

to prepare for the run, assisted us. As I uncleated from the pedals and climbed off my

bike, I felt my legs give way. I stopped, breathed deeply and tried to walk. The pain

was excruciating. Inching my way forward into the changing tent, I took another

Myprodol, changed into my running gear and headed out. I was hunched over, like a

little old lady, and could only take nervous, shuffling steps and, as I emerged from the

tunnel into the crowds, I could see people shaking their heads.

Nevertheless, I knew for certain that, whatever happened, if I had to crawl for 42

kilometres, I would finish the damned race. I had been going for almost eight hours

and there were still nine hours before the midnight cut off. I am still not sure if it was

endorphins, angels or psychotic delusion that took over next. After about 20 minutes,

I could feel my body straighten, and I began to run faster and faster. That marathon

was one of my best times ever.

As I ran over the finishing line, my children Abigail and Gabriel jumped over the

barriers and, with the crowd shouting, the loudspeaker blaring, tears pouring down my

face and the biggest grin on my face ever, I heard the words: “Colleen – you are an

Ironman!” I did it in a time of 11 hours and 59 minutes, not too shabby.

A BROKEN SPINE

As I finished the race, I was given a silver space blanket and a medal was pressed

into my hand. I found the nearest toilet and began vomiting and crying. I was

overwhelmed by emotion and pain. My husband took me back to the hotel and, early

the next morning, I shuffled onto an airplane and flew back to Johannesburg. X-rays

revealed that I had a fractured spine. I now realise the strength of my mind as, if I had

known I had a fractured spine, I would never have completed the race. Also, when we

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fetched my transition bag the next morning and took out my helmet, it fell apart; I had

hit my head hard.

My dad always told me not to be proud of doing an Iron Man with a fractured spine.

He would say wryly, “It is not a sign of great intelligence, Col”. However, I have since

learnt the sheer power of the human mind and my favourite saying when teaching

athletes and other professionals is: “When you feel that you have nothing left, imagine

a mad, rabid dog is after you.” They can always dig deeply for the reserves they need,

by focusing their minds.

When my life reaches places of sadness and exhaustion, when my academic journey

feels uninspired and I am fed up, I remember this journey and the words “Colleen –

you are an Iron Man”.

The principles of intentionality may be applied in any sphere of one’s life, five of

which I develop in Appendix A. The themes of Choice, Courage and Control have

been explored in the first nine components of The way of the mindful warrior model.

The last theme of Commitment to which we turn to next, leads to the final construct

from the mindfulness literature, namely Consciousness.

8.4.4 COMMITMENT

The final evolution into actualisation is shared through the frame of Commitment, as

understanding the power of living in the present, without attachment to an identity.

(i) Conscious being

Eckhart Tolle (2009) writes about the self beyond identity and speaks of this as true

spiritual transcendence. When we quiet our minds by becoming aware of our

conscious presence, uncontaminated by ego, we enter an almost meditative state and

then can choose the direction of our thoughts and our responses to any circumstance.

This is not, however, meditation. Meditation practices are the means to train the mind

to step into ‘no thought’. Intentionality is a focused and deliberate strategy to be

effective in our lives. Consciousness is the final step and is a way of being present

in any situation or circumstance.

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The deepening of consciousness is a transcendent and peaceful state that is a way of

being – not perceiving, thinking, reacting or doing. In this state, we let go of roles and

perceptions. We become uncontaminated by material belongings or poverty, the

trappings of success or failure, the identities of male or female, young or old, smart or

slow, good or bad. We are not affiliated to a religious belief, a cultural dogma or

philosophical ideals. We are no race, no creed, no language group, no class and no

nationality. We are one consciousness that is interconnected and in the present

moment (Tolle, 2009, 2011, 2015).

When we identify with the thoughts in our mind we are tethered to our conditioned

beliefs, habits and emotional states. Being present and conscious allows us to liberate

our true being that has humanness as its Truth, not ego. Safran (2012) describes the

practice of Zen which leads to ‘ego-death’, encouraging us to releasing an addiction

to a perceived identity and thereby bringing about enlightenment. Tolle sees our

attachment to external validation and identity as a form of unconsciousness which he

terms “ego”.

Figure 8.15: Component 10: Consciousness

The first nine components of The way of the mindful warrior have allowed us to

uncover awareness of how we have grown into our ego identity through conditioning

and reactivity. This last step allows us to step out of the limited narrative we have

carefully created as our identity, and to stand naked and enlightened as our true

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selves. We can step away from the exhausting shackles of our chattering mind, into

clarity and compassion.

The ego maintains itself by complaining, judging, comparing and competing. It creates

a separation from others and from the True self that is then evaluated. I am, or he is

‘good or bad’; I am, or she is ‘better or worse’. This is the narrative that creates ego

responses. To free ourselves from the grip of ego responses and our addiction to our

identity, we need to become alert observers of ourselves and the external reality.

When we notice our defensive responses (FFF behaviours), we need to consciously

let go our attachment to our automatic conditioned narrative and choose presence.

Roberts (2004) explains that both the Buddha and Christ embody the state of ‘no-self’

or ego detachment. This allows serenity and a transcendental consciousness.

Observing one’s thoughts, feelings and sensations dispassionately, without over-

identifying or reacting to them, is a central component of mindfulness (Bishop et al.,

2004; Kabat-Zinn, 1994; Siegel, 2009). Tolle (2005) calls this the beginning of

awakening. We observe ourselves by recognising when we are identified with the

stream of thoughts that create a narrative based on our conditioning. Remember, as

Tolle says, “You are not your thoughts” (2005, p. 24). It is important to remember that

the narrative is addictive, persistent and compelling. The alternative conscious

awareness and management of incessant mind chatter takes effort and commitment.

As we observe ourselves and our circumstances, we become aware of our

physiological or psychological responses. Often, an uncomfortable situation will be

triggering your dragon. Tolle calls this the ‘pain body’. He speaks about an unholy

alliance between the ego, and the pain body (2005, p. 154). As the pain body become

activated, the ego strengthens it through negative mind chatter. A self-perpetuating

negative feedback loop begins whereby the ego reinforces the pain body through

negative thinking, which, in turn, results in negative emotions – more pain. Component

7 discussed this pain as it manifests through the AA. In Jungian psychology, the

archetypal opposites need to be unified through a consciousness detached from

identity, to become more inclusive and to live in purpose. Jung calls this “psychic

death” (Martinez, 2011; Stevens, 1991).

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The key to ending the negative spiral is awareness of the present moment. When we

are in ‘the now’, there is no story and, therefore, no thinking and no emotion. It just IS.

In my training, I laughingly point out that: ‘In the present moment there is no past nor

future, no good nor bad, no happy nor sad, no rich nor poor. There just IS … ISness.’

Tolle calls this the “timeless space of consciousness where things and events come

and go” (2005, p. 35). This is where peace exists. Activity 13 (see Appendix A)

describes a process whereby one can consciously access this thinking in any situation.

Appendix A: Activity 13. Being in the present and letting go of ego

Stress, pain and fear and anxiety are only present when we deny the ‘now’ or engage

in a narrative about the ‘now’. Buddhist philosophies speak of acceptance and

surrender (Roberts, 2004). This is not a passive, victim-like response, but the higher

consciousness of present-centred awareness. Regretting, analysing and interpreting

the past causes distress. Trying to manipulate the future through worrying and fear

causes discomfort. The alternative is a present-centred focus, which is the focus of

compassion and wisdom. It is not wrong to plan ahead, nor to learn from the past, that

builds awareness; however, we need to reflect from a non-ego, or conscious, mental

state. When we worry, fear, feel regret or guilt – that is when ego interferes with

wisdom (Tolle, 2011, 2015).

The only control that we have is over our thoughts and our responses to the present

moment. We cannot choose for others, mould their behaviour, their thinking or their

emotional states. We also cannot change the external reality, only our response to

that reality. For this, we need to remain committed to our present-centred

consciousness. I conclude this last step with a blog I wrote as I attended a retreat with

Eckhart Tolle in California.

Reflection: Asilomar – 03 June 2015

Unexpectedly I stand a metre away from Eckhart Tolle as he leaves Merrill Hall.80 It is

icy cold and dark. This man has a low-key charisma that fuels a fire in a cynical heart.

80 Merrill Hall – the hall at the retreat in California where Eckhart Tolle gives his talks.

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He lifts one hand and hesitantly waves. As I catch his eye, I understand that I really

am in the presence of one of the greatest spiritual guides of my lifetime. I will not repeat

his message. It is there in his magnificent books and a thousand YouTube videos. I

teach and coach and speak his philosophies. But only Eckhart can deliver the wisdom

in his rare, humble style.

After a day of listening, writing and absorbing, interspersed with some meditation and

breathing and yoga poses (executed in my rare style – clumsy and awkward) and

stretching and cerebral discussions, I am tired and thoughtful. I am still not sure why I

have come so far at such great expense. Perhaps it was to stay with Renee and

Stanley? To ride 17 Mile Drive. To walk on Golden Gate Bridge? Meet Sam? Be on

my own and not work? Speak with like-minded souls? Perhaps the reason will

emerge? Eckhart himself says that expectation is unconsciousness. Just be present

and allow….

Meditation music plays in Merril Hall with its wooden eaves and floorboards. The smell

of cedar is pervasive. It supports the collective consciousness that these individuals

from around the world have manifested. We queue long before the doors open – all of

us eager to be close to hear and absorb the power of ET’s presence (The irony of the

acronym is not lost on me). Eckhart has a powerful presence. He shuffles into the quiet

hall with humility. Slightly stooped, dressed in a lilac shirt, simple pants, brown loafers

and a sleeveless cardigan. He turns to us, puts his hands together, palms touching,

fingers pointing upwards.

He quietly says: “Namaste”. It means: ‘I bow to the divine in you’.

His voice is quiet and slightly gravelly. He sits on a straight chair placed in front of the

stage – a small table with a glass of water at his side. He begins to speak. For a few

hours, he continues. He is funny at times. Delivering his familiar message with

conviction and intelligence. His teachings are not religious or fundamentalist. Rather,

he speaks about a cerebral construct (consciousness) that enables spiritual and

cognitive enlightenment.

Eckhart moves his hands like butterflies; his presence is flowing, expressive, gentle

and he shuffles his shoes awkwardly. He laughs nervously and blinks often. Somehow,

this adds to his presence, not distracts. He is a rock star, yet he is humility embodied.

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8.5 PRESENTING THE MODEL

From the preceding components forming a process, I now present the spiritual model

of personal leadership. The model aims to provide an integrated practical application

for the mindfulness construct as developed in this thesis. It draws together the

disparate conceptualisations of mindfulness that may be applied as practices that will

enable individuals to lead a life of purpose, presence and power. This provides a fresh

and comprehensive approach to leadership. The model and the narratives supporting

it may be seen as a vehicle to support individuals in facing challenges and living an

empowered life.

Figure 8.16: The model showing The way of the mindful warrior

As a facilitator of human performance and a fellow traveller on the journey towards

personal transformation, I know the journey is never complete. The model provides a

visual guide that enables a conscious journey of self-awareness and personal

mastery. My experience of The way of the mindful warrior process has been faltering

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and not without roadblocks and pitfalls. I am grateful for the gift of having my

awareness opened to possibility through my challenges, and the wonderful world of

mindfulness and neuroscience. I continue to experience and add to the components

of the model and learn from those who join me on this journey.

8.6 SUMMARY

In this chapter the four themes introduced in the narrative, Choice, Courage, Control and Commitment, were used as a framework for The way of the mindful warrior as a

process. Beginning with Choice, three processes were offered as a means for

understanding how stressful experiences may affect one physiologically and

psychologically. I reinforced the importance of living a life of purpose and meaning to

avoid apathy or burnout. The theme of Courage introduced the first element of the

mindfulness model, and the art and science of mindfulness meditation. The next two

components of the model explained the validation of emotions to engage a mindful

leadership style. Control as a theme offered an understanding of how our beliefs and

our identity have been shaped by our conditioned life experiences and we are

challenged to get out of the comfort zone and become intentional. The theme of

Commitment represented Consciousness as the final component of The way of the

mindful warrior.

To end the chapter, I would like to share a poem I wrote for a client who had

successfully completed this journey through a ten-month coaching engagement.

Then there is the Mindful Warrior

Who allows wisdom to emerge

Through the fierce fire of life experiences;

Stepping hesitantly on the journey

Blinking in the unexpected brightness of possibility.

Tasting the painful and heartfelt memories

Exposing the dysfunctional patterns of thinking and behaving that have entrapped

and disempowered.

Stepping out of the past and resisting the future

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Embracing the present

Perceptive, accurate listening to the heart.

Provocative questioning and irreverent humour daring the head

A call to purposeful action for the hands.

Brushing aside the muddy, toxic defence mechanisms

Allowing the soul to see

Crystal clear and magnificent Truth.

Holding the brutal mirror of honesty

And gazing into it.

Facing the uncertainty of the dark, conditioned recesses of the cerebral cortex

And reflecting the beauty of the resplendent brightness of hope

Dancing with our physical responses -

breath, the stomach, the knees, the throat.

Truth pulses, magnificent in its potential for freedom.

terrifying in its demand for courageous action.

Again, and again old neural processes are confronted.

Reminded that this is not a gentle, pathway.

Nothing will happen unless action is taken.

The same begets the same.

They choose to live their Truth

They choose The Way of the Mindful Warrior.

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SECTION 5 – WRAPPING UP

In this section, Chapter 9 provides a behind-the-scenes look at the process and

stories that led me to embarking on, sticking with, evaluating, changing and, finally

celebrating, the completion of this research journey. Chapter 10 concludes this thesis

with a brief overview, key conclusions from the findings of the study, my subjective

assessment of the most significant shortcomings, as well as recommendations for

future research.

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CHAPTER 9

THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY

9.1 INTRODUCTION

In this chapter I revisit my doctoral journey. Firstly, I explore the reason for offering a

research story. Secondly, I provide a sketch of myself and how it came about that I

undertook an autoethnographic study on a topic that is popular, widely debated and

complex. Thirdly, I share the decisions I made and the practical aspects such as

selecting my study leaders and setting timelines, and how I integrated the journey into

my day-to-day personal and professional life. Fourthly, I share the process of

reviewing the literature and how I began the writing process while meeting the

challenges of my day-to-day life. Finally, I conclude this behind-the-stage look at the

research in the making by sharing my learnings, including the paradox of angst and

celebration before submitting the thesis for examination.

9.2 SHARING THE RESEARCH STORY

An important consideration when doing academic research is reflection and reflexivity

about the process of writing (Wall, 2008). A personal narrative reflecting on the

journey, often an autoethnographic approach in its own right, is the story of the steps

taken towards the final completed thesis, examined against the backdrop of academic

requirements and everyday life. The researcher is seen as both producer and product

of the text (Ellis, 2004) and, as Schurink (2008b) says, it is impossible to separate the

personal, the professional, and the research process itself. This provides the rationale

for including the impact of other spheres of the researcher’s life, family and work in the

research document.

The importance of this reflection is expressed through the need for social researchers

to examine “the implications for the knowledge of the social world they generate of

their methods, values, biases, decisions, and mere presence in the very situations

they investigate” (Bryman, 2004. p. 43). Through my research I found many examples

of autoethnographies completed at the Department of Industrial Psychology and

People Management (IPPM) at the University of Johannesburg (UJ) such as Steinman

(2008), Tabudi (2008), Harrop-Allin (2010, Botha (2009), Oliver (2010), Le Roux,

(2010), Van Loggerenberg (2011), Usher (2011), Abrahams (2012), Swart (2014), Le

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Roux, S. J. (2016), Neethling (2017), and Biddulph (2018) that reflected on the

research process. Studying these autoethnographies added value in assisting me as

reader to understand and evaluate the context of these studies. I aim to do the same

in this chapter.

Therefore, as I reflect on my research journey, I first and foremost aim to assist the

reader to assess my work with reference to mindfulness, the university requirements

and the chosen methodology. Essentially, this chapter entails the story of the

construction and reconstruction of the thesis over three and a half years. In compiling

it, I use some elements of the confessional tale, whereby I "explicitly problematize and

demystify fieldwork or participant observation by revealing what actually happened in

the research process from start to finish" (Sparkes, 2002, p. 58).

It seems reasonable when offering a reflection on a doctoral journey that one should

cover the decision to embark on a doctorate, the apprenticeship model, the promoters

selected, the proposal process, the key decisions taken during the execution of the

research, the experience of writing, the challenges and the learnings and, finally, the

examination (Duncan, 2004; Holt, 2003; Adams et al., 2015; Mendez, 2013; Sparkes,

2002b; Wall, 2008), providing a “natural history” (Becker, 1970) of this process.

Essentially, I hope to share with the reader what it is like to embark on and engage

with the mammoth task of completing a doctoral thesis.

I begin with the story of me, as I discovered the hidden inner scholar.

9.3 WHO AM I TO BE WRITING THIS THESIS?

“You have to be kidding, in my wildest dreams, I can never imagine doing a PhD!”

Sitting with my new friend, Daphna, at the end of our brain-based coach training

programme in 2005, at the Fairlawns Hotel in Sandton, we discover an intellectual and

personality chemistry during the three short days that begin our journey into the

profession of coaching. I am 39 years old.

“I know, I feel the same”, she laughs. We share our excitement at the new journey we

are embarking on and imagine what could be possible.

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Up until this point, my academic journeys through school and university had been

punctuated by failure and dropping out. They did not portend a trajectory of any kind

of scholarly success. I had spent the last eighteen years running a beauty therapy

practice, where I became fascinated with people’s stories and lives. The job itself,

doing facials, massages and painting nails, bored me. It was learning about people

that thrilled me. Spurred on to discover more about human functioning through this,

as well as the traumatic events I had experienced in my mid-twenties, I hesitantly

began to step my way through an undergraduate BA and then honours in clinical

psychology as a part-time student. As life threw more traumas, challenges and

adventures my way, I responded by diving deeply into a world of therapeutic support

and self-help, in a desperate attempt to find meaning in these experiences and grasp

a sense of purpose in my chaotic world. I attended trauma counselling, crisis

intervention and addiction counselling courses. I spent late nights speaking to

bewildered victims of violent crime and sitting with the newly bereaved as they wept

and tried to make sense of the inexplicable. The latest stepping stone for me was the

wonderful discovery of the art and science of coaching.

“Daphna, I am not nearly smart enough for a PhD. I am so glad we have met, though.

Let’s make sure we don’t give up our dream to be brilliant coaches.”

Daphna nods her head. “Ok, it’s a deal. Let’s do what good coaches do and hold

ourselves accountable to each other.”

We laugh, not even beginning to imagine the path that lies ahead of us in this new

world of neuroscience and leadership.

Looking back, I gathered qualifications like others collect memorabilia or mementos –

over years, bit by bit, gradually, progressively. I built my academic wheel as a part-

time student working full-time. When I began my coaching business, I was hungry to

discover any information I could that would help me to be the best coach for my clients.

I completed a neuroscience diploma through Middlesex University, did many more

coaching certifications and, eventually, Daphna and I found ourselves in 2009, four

years later, sitting in a cold auditorium at UJ, listening to Wilma Botha sharing her

experience of completing a PhD thesis on bullying in the workplace at IPPM. Daphna,

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another coaching friend, MJ (Mary-Joe Emde), and I challenged each other over tea

and stale gingerbread biscuits:

“I dare you to apply for your masters,” MJ was known for stretching her clients.

“I will if you will,” I smiled.

“Ok, let’s do it.” Daphna was the final decider in our triad of choice, courage and

commitment.

The next three years were spent frequently in the company of my two friends.

Sometimes at university, supporting each other through the rigorous path to a master’s

degree, but also in establishing our coaching careers.

As my academic portfolio grew, so too did my range of career offerings. I had moved

from beautician to counsellor, to professional coach, trainer, mentor and assessor.

Finally, I became a motivational speaker with a global audience. Internally, my self-

esteem followed the trajectory of my outward success. I began to feel more confident

and grew in courage, tenacity and determination, both as a student and in my personal

life. Personal transformation, combined with a fascination for the brain and human

functioning with mindfulness as an academic research topic and new mind-set,

became the thread that wove the patches of my experience and knowledge together.

This provided the platform from which I wrote the thesis, certainly not as an expert and

instructor, but rather as a permanent student of life, mindfulness and personal growth.

This is revealed in some detail in chapter 7 where I reflect chronologically on the

evolution of my consciousness from worrier to warrior of the mind through critical life

experiences.

9.4 THE DOCTORAL JOURNEY

In addition to the difficulty recalling all events and decisions taken, qualitative research

processes, including autoethnographies, are not linear and key activities typically

overlap. The lived experience involved identifying a topic, choosing an approach,

being assigned supervisors, preparing and writing the proposal, and the defence of

the proposal. After that begins the task of doing a literature review, writing up, working

with supervisors and editors to refine and change; rewrites, more research, addressing

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theoretical and methodological issues, analysing and interpreting findings and, finally,

drawing conclusions, reviewing and making recommendations. The execution of the

thesis is an organic and iterative process, requiring discipline and determination, and

is unpredictable. Here, I attempt to share a sense of the journey I have travelled with

my PhD research over the last three years.

The beginning: deciding to undertake doctoral research

The idea for doing a doctorate, although prompted by dreaming and brainstorming

with my friend, Daphna, was first truly sparked into life in 2010. This happened on a

cold winter morning when I met my study leaders for my master’s degree in a café

over the M1 highway between Johannesburg and Pretoria. This is what I wrote:

We are all early, a cold, dark, 5 a.m. meeting, an incongruent place for a

serious academic meeting. Thousands of cars moving beneath us; cold,

cheap coffee in our hands and empty plastic chairs lying uncaring next to us.

Essence of meeting: warrior, worrier, creative, metaphor, writing style, basic

construction, colour, autoethnographic (Bloem, 2012, p. 151–152)

I believe the word ‘autoethnographic’ was the inspiration for undertaking this doctoral

study. That morning my study leaders Professor Willem Schurink and Dr Mary Anne

Harrop-Allin, introduced me to this term for the first time. The word seemed to leap out

at me frequently as I researched my master’s thesis, and then for the few years after

that as I immersed myself in my career.

I missed the IPPM April 2013 graduation ceremony and received my master’s degree

in absentia. At the time of the ceremony, I was standing on a windswept peak, oxygen-

deprived and exhilarated, as my daughter Abigail and I neared the end of our climb to

Base Camp Everest.

“Mom,” Abi grinned, as we stood at the top of Kalapathar,81 looking across the valley

to Sagarmatha – Chomnolungo, also known as Mount Everest: “Today is your

graduation day.”

81 Kala Patthar – a peak in the Himalayas, which gives a beautiful view of Mt Everest

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We are frozen and giddy with excitement, exhaustion, dizzying altitude and little

oxygen.

“I forgot”, I gasp, as I lean on my hiking pole. We both laugh.

Photograph 21: Abi and I at the top of Kalapathar

I share a reflection from my journal as Abi and I walk up the mountain.

Hiking up Kalapathar (5545m/18192ft) May 2013. Day 9

At 4 a.m. my alarm clock nudges Abi and I out of our warm sleeping bags to the sound

of a gale rattling the thin plywood walls of our tiny cubicle. Convinced that Subash is

going to take pity on us and tell us to go back to bed, I snuggle back under the covers,

but he doesn’t appear, so we reluctantly dress in most of the clothes we have in our

backpacks and venture down in the dark. Today he is taking us on a dawn walk to see

the sunrise from one of the best vantage points to see Everest. A long 2½ hour walk

in the dark, under the gaze of glowing white peaks, takes us to Kalapathar just 2

minutes before sunrise. Abi bounds up the slope. I take two steps and then stop.

Resting my head on my hiking pole, I struggle to breathe and regain strength for the

next two steps. Few people make it to the top, most find the altitude just too daunting

and difficult in one go. It is almost five and a half thousand metres high.

My friend later exclaims: “Col, you were five and a half kilometres in the sky!”

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Eventually, after a six-hour hike, we make the top. The view is exquisite – Abs and I,

with frozen toes, hands and noses, are laughing and pointing and taking pictures, in

awe of the grandeur and the beauty of the Himalayas. Abi reminds me that today is

the day that I should be at the university receiving my degree. This place is enough, I

don’t need a cap and gown and applause. Everest is quite sufficient celebration.

In the two years after completing my masters, I bought my first home on my own,

finalised my divorce, met my daughter’s biological family, undertook over 100 flights

overseas on business, discovered that I had a heart condition and, finally, became a

successful motivational speaker, presenting in front of sizeable audiences.

During these two years, always at the back of my mind was the question: What next?

At that point, I never spoke about the possibility of continuing my studies, it still seemed

an unimaginable feat. My subconscious processing, however, must have been

building motivation and determination, because at the beginning of 2015, I took a deep

breath, and with the strong support of Mary Anne (one of my master’s supervisors),

applied to undertake doctoral research at IPPM. Mary Anne had moved from

supervisor to friend, since working closely together during the writing of my master’s

thesis and afterwards. That year was spent preparing the proposal in between work,

travel, cycling and raising my children. Two weeks after the TEDx talk in September,

which frames this thesis, and a week spent at a meditation retreat in the Himalayas,

the day for defending my proposal finally arrived.

But first, how did I arrive at this point? Once having been accepted for doctoral study

by IPPM, I was required to attend an orientation week.

The Postgraduate Study School

I join the Postgraduate Study School early in January 2015 at the Sunnyside Park

Hotel in Parktown, Johannesburg. In the embrace of this national monument built in

1895, in the teak-lined colonial hall, we are reminded of the different forms of research

design, methodology, research ethics, evaluation criteria and literature review, and

how to use the library. I am nervous but excited to meet other potential doctoral

students and to be immersed in the world of academic study.

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Once again inspired by Professor Willem Schurink’s thoughts on qualitative

methodology, I hesitantly approach him. I relish the opportunity to once again to talk

about autoethnography, asking him cautiously if it would be possible for him to

supervise me. He doesn’t give me an answer but spends some time sharing his

passion for qualitative research with me.

A most valuable part of the orientation school was sharing the four-page presentation

“proposing the proposal” we had to prepare for fellow students. This was to be the

kindling to the small fire that became the proposal and the roaring bonfire that

eventually became my completed thesis.

Photograph 22: The original presentation of my four-pager at the Sunnyside Hotel

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I wanted this adventure to be accompanied by my fellow travellers, supporters and

teachers, Professor Schurink and Mary Anne Harrop-Allin. Straight after the study

school, I waited with bated breath to hear who my study leaders would be.

Introducing my study leaders

My research supervisors have travelled a long journey with me. I was initially terrified

by Professor Willem Schurink on the first day of the introductory week to my masters’

degree in 2010, long before he was assigned as supervisor for my master’s

dissertation. In his mid-sixties, the Prof is a grey-haired intellectual, who blends the

characteristics of serious academic brilliance with a gift for nurturing that quality in

others. To use terms from a former era where courteous behaviour and intellectual

achievement were respected and valued: he is the epitome of a ‘scholar and a

gentleman’. Prof Schurink is a sociologist with a strong interest in qualitative research

including autoethnography. He has successfully adjusted Carolyn Ellis’s evocative

autoethnographical approach to local university departments and business schools.

Carolyn Ellis is often referred to as “The Diva” of autoethnography, and I like to think

of the Prof as “The Doyen” of autoethnography in Africa.

Dr Mary Anne Harrop-Allin is the affable ‘Belle’ to Prof Schurink’s daunting ‘Beast’.

Mary Anne and I seem to speak the same language because of our love of personal

development. Our life experiences seem to mirror each other’s and we both have great

admiration and fondness for Professor Schurink. Mary Anne’s easy-going personality,

her great humility and kindness, along with her non-judgemental and compassionate

disposition, have allowed me to share more of my hopes and dreams with her than I

have with most people. I have always felt unimaginably supported, encouraged and

challenged by this pair of study leaders.

The next few weeks were a roller coaster of disappointment and hope. On 29 January

I was told on that Prof Schurink could not be my supervisor because there was every

chance that IPPM would not renew his contract. He also had no time to spare

whatsoever for supervision. Mary Anne, similarly, was over-taxed in her commitments;

however, on 9 February I received an email from the department informing me that

they had both been allocated to me as my study leaders.

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I was thrilled, knowing that they were the study leaders I needed on my journey,

primarily because they were so knowledgeable and well versed in autoethnographic

research, but also because I enjoyed their intellect and exacting style of supervision.

Prof Schurink admonished me: “I don’t have much time and you must take this

seriously.”

I did. We met in coffee shops in Melville and restaurants in Pretoria, but mostly at Mary

Anne’s home in Centurion. Over cups of tea and sandwiches and biscuits, the two

would spend hours talking me through the changes I needed to make and sharing their

passion for qualitative research and especially autoethnography. The e-mails flew

back and forth as they guided and shaped my understanding of the requirements for

the thesis.

I will remain in awe and gratitude for my whole life at the kindness, commitment and

encouragement I have been given by Mary Anne and Prof Schurink. The attention to

detail and the effort they have put in is remarkable, and the encouragement (and

cautions) at every iteration of the thesis has been unending.

Photograph 23: Professor Schurink and Dr Harrop-Allin at one of our many meetings

The doctoral relationship began at the beginning of 2015 and the first milestone was

reached in September when I defended my proposal.

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The proposal

On 29 September 2015, the day after I return from the serenity of meditations in the

Himalayas, a research proposal committee of the Department of Industrial Psychology

and People Management consider my nervous presentation at 10:00am in the

Lekgotla Room, D Ring 412 at the University. Accompanied by my many mind-maps,

I explain what my research is about. Dr Magda Hewitt, Prof Marie Poggenpoel, Dr

Albert Wort, Prof Willem Schurink and Dr Mary Anne Harrop-Allin all question me on

various aspects of the research I propose. Doing my best to sound smart and well

prepared, I finally run out of words and the panel request that I step out of the room.

Waiting in the cold corridor, not noticing the usual busyness of university life, my

stomach clenches.

Focusing on my breathing, calming the sensations of anxiety and panic that are

gripping my solar plexus and gut, a mindfulness meditation centres me. I think about

my decision to undertake a doctorate, which is charged by the desire to gain stronger

credibility for myself in my career, as well as my new-found confidence in my academic

abilities. Being extraordinarily passionate about mindfulness and the neuroscience

underpinning it, I have witnessed the profound difference it made in my life as well as

the hundreds of people I introduced to these subjects. Also, an ego-driven desire to

have Dr in front of my name is a motivator. Will I be given the green light to pursue my

dream? This is the moment I will know whether what I have been dreaming is possible.

My thoughts are interrupted by Mary Anne calling me back into the room. I feel the

energetic transfer of her reassuring spirit wrapping around me like a warm blanket. All

I can really absorb is that I am not being thrown off the campus in academic distaste

and that the panellists are interested in my research and in discussing it.

“Your proposal is accepted provided you incorporate the research you undertook on

mindfulness and think deeply about the stories you will share. What you have

proposed is too vast and adding a cohort to your already substantive lived experiences

could generate too much material to be managed in a thesis. Please think about this

carefully.”

They agree I have an interesting story that should add value to the reader and concur

that I should bring in the research that I am already doing in the field of mindfulness

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theory and practice. The possibility of adding stories from my clients and my coaching

practice should add the necessary cohort validity to the autoethnographic

requirements of the department. There are technical details I have to attend to and a

need to pay strong attention to various methodological requirements. The panel

spends the next hour talking me through some ideas and adjustments I need to make.

Leaving the university building, I whoop with joy, do a ridiculous dance in the parking

lot and cry a few tears of relief and disbelief. The business of attending to the

corrections in the proposal and the daunting project that would be my focus for the

next few years has begun. I have to ensure that I pay disciplined attention to the

timelines and deadlines that are mostly self-imposed but encouraged by my

supervisors.

Minding time and time lines

The proposal accepted, I begin the welcome work of gathering literature and thoughts

on how I will progress with the writing of the thesis. It is a luxury for me to immerse

myself in mindfulness literature, but a little more difficult to unravel the methodological

complexities. Taking the first hesitant steps in between travels to Arizona, Israel and

India and a cycling trip to Durban, the process of writing begins. I allow myself the

indulgence of a month off, as I spoil myself and my children with a cruise on a luxury

ocean liner. In January 2016, I implement a disciplined timetable, working best with a

plan and a structure, especially considering the massive demands made on my time

by my work schedule. I keep a journal in which I write down meaningful moments of

the new academic journey.

Reflection from my journal: 19 January 2016

I am on a Jet Airways flight between Abu Dhabi and Hyderabad, thousands of metres

above a barren, mountainous desert. I have spent the last few weeks working on my

thesis plan. It is shaky, tentative – but a possibility and it feels good. I am still feeling

that telling my story is presumptuous, even impertinent. But it’s going to happen. I

sense the structure of the TED talk could be a frame, supporting the weave of my

narrative through the weft of the methodological and the warp of the theoretical threads

of the thesis.

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I look out of the window. The plane is flying over the ocean and I am ready to begin

writing. I open the research proposal on my skinny MacBook, make a copy and

rename it: Mindful Warrior – PhD thesis. A working document. The plane is lurching,

the seatbelt light goes on. All is right in the world. Yes, its bumpy, but I’m flying. In 2

weeks, I will celebrate my 50th birthday and cross into my second half century. Now

is the time to step into my next challenge.

Three weeks after I made this entry in my journal I catapult over the handlebars of my

bike and land in hospital with severe facial fractures and a shattered wrist! A broken

body is soothed by a mended heart, as I fall in love with the man who appeared at my

bedside and never left! Graham has had a tough journey through life, losing his wife

to breast cancer when his children were small and mostly raising them alone. We are

like two battle-scarred soldiers, finding each other after a weary resignation to

aloneness. The recovery and the distraction of falling in love are a challenge to the

progress of my work, but I keep going, albeit with a few stumbling blocks and

uninspired periods. The next couple of years are measured by blocked out sections in

my frantic calendar where I carve out time to do my research.

I write on planes and trains and in hotel rooms, whenever there is a gap. My thesis

consumes my thoughts and my time. I look forward again to the day when I may once

again read a novel or watch a movie during flights. To save my sanity and my well-

being, I have a strict, unbendable ritual of switching off my computer at 7 p.m. This is

a rule I never compromise. It allows me to breathe and be with my friends and family.

It releases me from the self-indulgence of being in a bubble consisting only of me and

my work, and ensures that I maintain my emotional and physical health. Another

unbendable ritual is waking up at 4 a.m. in the week and 5 a.m. on weekends to ride

my bicycle with my friends. I take photographs of my ‘thesis’ moments and

occasionally put them on Facebook – glamorising an exhausting endeavour.

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Photograph 24: A post from my Facebook page in January 2018

The thesis is crafted on hundreds of mind maps, on scraps of notes penned as insights

arrive, all gathered into a giant plastic file. Textbooks and journal articles pile up on

my bookshelves. Documents and folders begin to take up gigabytes of space in my

computer. The chapters grow and evolve. E-mails and WhatsApp messages

accumulate as my supervisors encourage me and correct the pages I send them, we

drink cups of tea and ponder corrections and ideas as they generously share their time

and academic passion with me. Psychologically, I am by turns beset by despair and

inertia, where the end of a day may see only two sentences being crafted. This is

contrasted with flashes of insight and hours of frenetic typing as the words seem to fly

from my fingertips, and the page numbers accumulate at the bottom right of the word

documents.

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Photograph 25: Scraps and papers as I plan, design and write

As I study the literature and begin to weave patterns of knowledge on mindfulness and

personal effectiveness, I practise sharing my new-found knowledge in the classroom

and in my blogs and talks. The feedback I get from my clients and audiences tells me

whether it is having an impact. I go back to the literature and the thesis to refine and

readjust as necessary. I develop the model by reflecting on, trying out and developing

a process for working with mindfulness in an effective and inspiring way, always

learning, allowing the model to develop step by step.

Photograph 26: Demonstrating the science and art of mindfulness to a group in 2017

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Towards the end of the journey, early in 2018, I allow a group I am training to be

coaches in Bangalore, India to coach me. This enables them to practise and is a win-

win, because my motivation for completing the thesis is waning. Two hand-in dates

are looming – May or October. While I still have a couple of years to play with to submit

the thesis, I decide to get it completed by May. During the coaching session, one of

the members of the group want to know how I would motivate a client to complete a

goal like this? This is a great coaching question and I contemplate it. I use visioning to

keep my clients motivated. Inspired, that evening I create a picture on my phone and

use it as a screensaver.

Photograph 27: Screensaver created in Delhi

The image works its magic. I am reminded of my goal every time I use my phone and

start to put in intensive hours and cognitive focus as the hand-in date approaches. In

between my work and travel schedule, I push forward, always with the help and

support of my study leaders. But alas, a research crisis sneaks in and two days before

I am to hand in to my editor, I discover a serious problem with chapter 8. I had become

confused some theoretical concepts, with little clarity on the subtle differences

between typologies, substantive theory, middle-range theories, grounded theory,

classification systems, conceptual frameworks and models. A few sleepless nights

and panicked calls to my study leaders later, I realise that the chapter is going to take

a few more weeks.

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Mary Anne comments wryly: “You are going to have to live what you are writing,

Colleen. Be mindful and present.”

I am. I carve out as much time as I can in my busy work schedule and settle down to

rewrite the chapter. Some weeks later, I am, finally, at the point of handing in to my

editors. I feel at peace, and even a little sad, that the journey is ending.

Over the three years spent constructing the thesis, I was challenged time and again,

to consider which experiences I would study and share. The idea for the stories I

eventually selected was sparked by the success of the TEDx Talk in 2015. The six

months preparing for this talk was spent reflecting and writing, rewriting and practising,

all the time being coached and mentored by my two wise curators who were there to

ensure I had a talk worth listening to. Once this was done, and my proposal for the

PhD accepted, the task of deciding how to use this framework in detailing specific lived

experiences began.

Mindfully selecting lived experiences

I had already in the ‘Story behind the story’ of my master’s thesis (Lightbody, 2012),

begun to tell the story of my journey from worrier to warrior of the mind. This

background story and the TEDx Talk began to merge as the narratives I would share,

this time from an autoethnographic perspective.

The ‘auto’ implies my story as elicited through a reflective process. To satisfy the

‘ethno’, I was convinced that my immersion in the world of leadership, coaching,

counselling and, particularly, the neuroscience of mindfulness that informed and

shaped my transformation would be invaluable. Honouring the ‘graphy’ ensured that I

chose the stories against a background of mindfulness and leadership, as reflected

through my personal journey and that of others I chose to include.

Chapter 7, which tells my autobiographical story, was constructed as the evocative

part of the thesis. I began with introducing my story, and the early years of my life that

formed my journey as worrier. The narrative added spokes to my life wheel

chronologically as I shared the powerful and traumatic life experiences that shaped

my learning and growth to become a warrior of the mind.

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Although the construction of the stories was primarily inspired by the TEDx talk, I also

used the pattern of narrative drawn from Jungian archetypal narrative as described by

Joseph Campbell (Vogler, 1992). He calls this a “Hero’s Journey”, which is derived

from the hero myth pattern:

A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of

supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered, and a decisive

victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the

power to bestow boons on his fellow man (1949, p. 23).

Enjoying the metaphorical link between the ‘hero’ archetype and my evolution as

‘warrior’, I further aligned the structure of my stories with Christopher Vogler’s (1992)

description of the stages of the journey which refined Campbell’s classic, into a

modern genre. The structure of the classical myth as drawn from “The Writer’s

Journey” ‘(Vogler, 1992) mentioned in chapter 7, is as follows:

• The ordinary world

• The call to adventure

• Refusal of the call

• Meeting with the mentor

• Crossing the threshold to the special world

• Tests, allies, and enemies

• Approach to the innermost cave

• The ordeal

• Reward

• The road back

• The resurrection

• Return with the elixir

I used the analogy of the hero’s journey to explore how I reached a place of deep inner

transformation and mapped my path of disruption and traumatic experiences against

the steps of the journey until, finally, I returned with the elixir, which is mindfulness.

In choosing the stories, I spent the months as I wrote the thesis sifting through my

memories and crafting timelines of my chronological experiences. More particularly, I

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used photographic trails of evidence and many journal entries that I had penned

throughout my life. I had in the past few years begun to craft ‘stories’ out of my

experiences and I gathered these together. I spoke to friends and family members

about their recollections of experiences we had together and listened carefully as they

shared their perspectives.

The TEDx talk had initiated my reflection on how I had changed from a ‘worrier’ to a

‘warrior’ of the mind. Now, my focus was on reflecting how mindfulness, or the lack

thereof, had been a theme throughout my journey. I carefully began selecting life

experiences that reflected these themes.

Adams and Manning (2015) remind us that writing our stories runs the risk of

implicating others and this was forefront in my mind as I reflected. Realising that “the

author is never represented in a social vacuum” (Murphy & Dingwall, 2001, p. 345), in

selecting my stories I had to consider the exposure of the people who were part of my

world, as well as my own vulnerability. While difficult and potentially hurtful, it was

important to be honest and ethical about the events described, as well as about the

people involved (Méndez, 2013). Personally, by far the greatest risk for me was the

burning ethical dilemma of how much was I exposing people, and whether I had the

right to do this?

Ellis (2010), too, notes that as autoethnographic researchers, we engage in

heightened “relational ethics” where we implicate those whom we write about as well

as ourselves. The story is not only that of the researcher, but also that of the characters

playing a part in it; therefore, I decided to attend to get their permission when revealing

others as far as possible, while ensuring that the value of the story compensated for

any possible ethical dilemma (Ellis, 2000). I also sent the story to some of the key

people in my life to get their feedback, either because they were ‘implicated’ or

because they were witnesses and would tell me whether I was accurate in my

reflections. I would like to share this feedback here.

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From Tracy – a high school friend

“Your story in its entirety is actually sobering. I think a very accurate reflection of your

life … which is what you were really wanting to know. But I also have to add that I had

to read it three times for the enormity of the challenges you have faced to actually sink

in … because it’s like … how the hell did ALL THIS happen to one person???? And I

KNOW your story. But maybe that’s a bit harder to absorb really … To see it all in

black and white and in one whole episode. It leaves you reeling actually.”

My Mom

When I told Mom about the story and asked her to read it, I was nervous. Mom finds

it difficult to talk about Martin and I was not sure how she would feel reading about his

death again. I also often felt judged by my mother as a child, and was afraid what her

opinion would be. My Mom, who is not emotional, phoned me in tears. At first, I was

horrified that I had upset her, but she said she was moved and so proud of me. The

call was followed by a sms:

“Dear Colleen. Have finished reading your narrative and am completely overwhelmed

by it. Have such a lump in my throat. (Am about to go out, but don’t know how I will be

able to concentrate on bridge.) You are extremely talented and clever. Have saved it

to a document folder for future perusal.”

My ex-husband

This was also an anxious time for me. It took a couple of weeks for him to read it.

When I asked what he thought, he made two comments:

“I didn’t even know you, even though we were married for twenty years.”

And the second:

“I don’t agree with everything, but it’s ok.”

I am sad that we don’t have the kind of relationship where we could sit down and talk

it through. I do know that there are always different perspectives in any life story.

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From Kath – also a school friend

“Hi Col,

This was a truly fascinating read. I felt myself reliving my own memories of many of

the things you write about. Your writing is very vivid, very evocative and very authentic,

I think. I say this because everything you write about that I remember rings absolutely

true. There are no false notes.

It's also not self-indulgent. You keep a level of detachment and of self-study that

carries a range of judgements about yourself that have quite an impersonal flavour.

That's impressive but also very you. I mean, I think, that this second layer of the

narrative, the commentary on the story itself, is very much in your voice. And while it's

very revealing and intimate, it's not narcissistic in any way.

The only thing that I found jarring was this paragraph:

"Having to be ‘good’ seemed to have splintered Martin psychologically. He internalised

the pain of trying to be perfect and responsible and eventually, driven by a traumatic

event, it became too much, and he became psychotic."

It's almost as though you distil the multiple causes of his illness into this one thing,

when I would have said it was much more than that and that brain chemistry was the

overwhelming factor. This might just have been my reading though. Wow, it's tricky to

criticise something so personal and powerful. It's not untrue what you say; I also felt

the burden on him of having to be good as an interior pain, but I don't think that it would

have been too much for him had he not been ill.

It's an incredibly rigorous piece of writing. Very attentive to detail, very open, very

honest, very courageous. I can just see your face in front of me your eyes alight with

enthusiasm, smiling with your whole being.”

I pondered her advice and decided that hers was a wise and more accurate

understanding of Martin’s illness. I adjusted the section accordingly.

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From Julia – a friend I have known almost my entire life

“Thank you for the honour and privilege of sharing your life story with me. Your

openness and honesty took me backwards in time to events and experiences I

remember. You have so evocatively described your experience that I found myself

reliving the parts of your journey we have shared right alongside you. A jump to the

left, a step to the right, put the hands on hips … doing the time warp again! The

perspectives and insights you identify as contributing to your metamorphosis are

compellingly honest and they, together with your narrative, are true to who I know you

to be.”

From my friend who was ‘the popular’ girl in the class:

The other thing I was quite frankly shocked about, is that you believed I was the most

popular girl in the class. It’s funny how life is – there you were looking at me as if I had

my shit together and yet I walked around feeling like I was so alone and had such a

hard time relating to anybody at a truly deep level. Looking back, I realize it was

because I was dealing with such craziness at home and thought everyone around me

was living what seemed like such perfect lives. I now realize how far from the truth that

was. Given that you perceived me to be the “popular” girl, I only hope you also

perceived me as a decent person…….popular girls are often mean girls and I only

hope I never acted that way. I was a non-conformist for sure. I had no intention of

following the path preached to us at Kingsmead - find a man, get married, have

children and be a great housewife! Instead I packed my bags and headed to America

with $2,000 in my pocket! Crazy when I look back now, but no regrets at all!!!

I feel that I have been ethical in sharing my story with these people. Tullis (2013)

speaks about a ‘member check’, where the individuals mentioned in the narrative are

given a chance to read and have input on the stories shared. Where my participants

did disagree on any aspects, I did change some small facts on their advice, but the

story mostly stayed the same. These insights have been shared above

Inevitably, not all those mentioned in my stories were accessible or willing to read what

I wrote about them and therefore I had to carefully consider the ramifications of

referring to them in the vignettes. Thus, where I felt uncertain or was unable to access

permission, I changed some geographical information and/or details of people’s

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behaviour and their socio-personal profile, for example race, gender and age. By doing

this, I felt I attended to relational ethics while retaining the integrity of the research

(Ellis et al., 2010).

My intention was to construct ethical research as well as a study that was intellectually

coherent and compelling (Mason, 2002). From this perspective, I would invite the

reader into the world of my autoethnographic narrative, hoping that the stories I offered

might be experienced emotively and viscerally (Boylorn & Orbe, 2014). Craig Gingrich-

Philbrook (cited in Ellis et al., 2000) is troubled by the fact that any story is told only

from the perspective of the person experiencing it. Nevertheless, he notes that the

“divergence” of stories is a necessary and unavoidable reality, and that the real value

will come when the stories are evaluated and responded to by the readers. Therefore,

I accepted that others may differ in their memories of the experiences I chose to share,

and that readers may have unexpected responses to them. I hoped that the narrative,

and the model, would integrate mindfulness research and substantive theory, as

connected to both the self and the social world, in a useful way.

Ellis (2004) mentions that to create a good story, the plot needs to contain some kind

of tension or negativity. She quotes Art Bochner, who commented that social science

has always been concerned with understanding “deviance, evil, dysfunction, mental

illness, abuse and abnormal behaviour” (p. 43). Many of these were exactly the issues

I had to deal with. Initially, when I did my TEDx talk, I was guided by my sponsors and

a book called Talk Like Ted, where the author (Gallo, 2014) talks about the “power of

pathos” (p. 47) as the act of appealing to the heart.

We know from a neuroscience perspective that the brain is much more strongly

oriented toward the negative than the positive. Labelled the primary operating principle

of the brain by renowned South African neuroscientist, Evian Gordon, this principle

states that the brain is designed to “minimize danger and maximize reward” (Gordon,

2009, p. 2). Consequently, we pay attention to drama and pain.82 This principle served

me well in understanding the power of crisis when selecting stories for my audience.

As my TEDx talk became the frame for my narrative in the study, I was piggybacking

82 Incidentally, I met, and worked briefly with Evian at a neuroleadership conference I attended in

2014 in Boston, USA. I was excited to hear these theories first hand from one of my personal icons.

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on the fact that I had been guided by my curators as well as my neuroscience mentors

to use the struggles and traumatic events of my life to connect with my audience.

MRI studies have conclusively shown that emotions are a powerful driver of attention,

perception and behaviour (Goldin, McRae, Ramel, & Gross 2008; Gross, 2007; Le

Doux, 1998; Ochsner, 2008; Ochsner & Gross, 2005; Phelps, 2006). It follows that

evocative stories create an emotional response in the audience, with a concurrent

motivator to behave differently. This energised my desire to share my stories, driving

a desire to leave a legacy of being a catalyst for powerful change in people’s lives;

however, I became acutely aware that I might be criticised here. As Carolyn Ellis says,

when you partake in autoethnography, “not only your work, but your personal life is

scrutinized and critiqued” (2004, p .19). Nevertheless, I chose to share the story that

enabled me to reach success in a way I had never imagined possible.

Section 3 of the thesis allowed me to introduce the spiritual model for personal

leadership, as I weave a process for actualising purpose, presence and power. Here

too, I used personal experiences to describe some of the concepts. I also use stories

shared by my clients to evocatively describe the process whereby one may move from

worrier to warrior. Again, to protect and respect the confidential nature of the

engagements with my clients, I use pseudonyms, sometimes changing defining

characteristics such as culture, gender and age. Tullis (2013) calls this de-identifying,

data, where composite characters are created by ‘collapsing several people into one

(p.250).

Reviewing the literature

Mindfulness literature is extensive and, while unable to exhaustively engage with

every aspect, I felt confident that I could integrate a wide-ranging focus on

mindfulness. This extended from theory to practice, from psychological to

physiological, from Eastern to Western perspectives, as well as the neuroscience, the

anecdotal and practical evidence. I was fortunate enough to be deeply immersed in

training, teaching and learning about mindfulness. This ensured that I had access to

the latest academic and popular literature on the subject. Through my engagements

with practitioners of mindfulness, as well as with scientists, researchers and writers, I

could engage in active debate and dialogue with people who had expertise in this area.

Finally, my enthusiasm for mindfulness led to enjoyable leisure time. I have a wealth

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of literature on the subject, both in my home library of ‘real’ books and in my database

of research material on my computer. I feel deeply privileged that the thesis provided

an opportunity for me to indulge constructively in a hobby, a passion and a practice,

and, hopefully, to also be a catalyst for change in others’ lives.

Aligned with the qualitative research process I presented the thesis with a cycling

metaphor embodying literature, narrative and substantive theory. This follows Ellis’s,

“a sandwich – a story with academic literature and theory on both sides” (Ellis, 2004,

p. 198). Wall (2008) points out that combining autoethnography with relevant literature

would make her research more accessible and publishable. I resonate with this as well

as with Adams and Manning’s (2015) social-scientific orientation. Here, literature is

braided with personal narrative and substantive findings which allows greater flexibility

and depth in describing the topic. The model of mindfulness, evolving from personal

experience and the literature, ultimately allows the development of a process of

engaging with mindfulness as practice. This is further enriched through the sharing of

personal experience and interacting with others’ insights as they experience the

process.

Sharing the narrative, the literature and the substantive theory required that I pay

attention to the quality of my writing. This was a challenge as I had to shift my thinking

about what constituted ‘value’ in an academic thesis.

The challenge of writing mindfully

I believe it is important to bear in mind that in academic circles and universities, a

thesis should be written in a scholarly way that requires particular skills. This is

especially the case for doctoral candidates who have to compile a thesis

demonstrating “a coherent, logical, clear and persuasive argument" (Mouton, 2001, p.

112). While I learnt some skills when compiling my master’s dissertation, I had more

to learn, which was also made difficult by the nature of my work. I recall Mary Anne

commenting once that I often only had time to write at airports while waiting for flights,

which challenged my focus when putting together and presenting complex arguments

creatively. At times, this and other work and family challenges resulted in me losing

momentum. My knowledge of the brain and motivation aided me in optimising time

and opportunities to work on my thesis but, as a part-time student with many

responsibilities, the task was huge. It might have been beneficial to take a small

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sabbatical and attend writing classes. Also, in hindsight, I believe I should have

employed editors earlier.

I had no idea I would ever enjoy writing; much less be seen as a competent writer in

academic and blogging circles. Registering for the master’s degree in my early forties

brought about a change in the direction of my life. Regardless of being fascinated by

some of the challenging requirements of the degree, like course work and

assignments, I suddenly found the beginnings of a desire to write from my heart,

emotionally and honestly, instead of limiting myself to the literal and the rational. Ellis’s

(1999) “heartfelt autoethnography” extends ethnography to include the heart, the

autobiographical and artistic text. Through this she demonstrates the value of crafting

evocative stories that allow vulnerability, emotions, body and spirit to be explored.

I first became aware of qualitative ‘tales’ when writing the master’s dissertation. Writing

more actively, in the first person, describing events and people vividly, applying

storytelling, using metaphorical language and displaying meanings people attached to

themselves and events started to appeal to me. I appreciated that this was an attempt

to keep the reader’s attention and to move them to reflect on their own experiences

(Eriksson & Kovalainen, 2008, pp. 279–280). The Shakespeare my inspiring English

teacher Janet Unterslak had taught, the literary novels she had passionately shared,

the realisation that I could sit in a situation and describe it with the intention of bringing

strong, and possibly emotional, images, memories and thoughts to mind, all began to

give some depth and character to my writing style.

While, I have for some years found writing appealing, I also found it difficult to employ

different styles in the thesis. In fact, I experienced writing the stories and putting

together the text cognitively taxing and agonisingly slow. While writing feels exciting,

it is certainly not instinctive for me. While I often became absorbed when phrasing

sentences, paragraphs and sections, and got great pleasure from reading back

sentences, or parts I regarded as funny or well-crafted, I am still to experience flow as

I write.

Quite interestingly, my attraction to writing happened at almost the same time as my

new career took off and I began living a more adventurous lifestyle. Attempting to

document these experiences, I found that writing served three purposes. Firstly, it

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gave me a way of sharing my life experiences with others; I often write a story as a

thank-you gift for those who are part of the experience. Secondly, writing became a

way to facilitate my professional and social profile; often the seemingly inane platforms

such as Facebook and Linked-in would be strategic ways to market myself. Finally,

writing became a way for me to regularly reflect on and find meaning in particularly

challenging and stressful times in my life.

I didn’t set out with the objective of employing an autoethnography. As I have already

indicated, the idea to utilise this research genre emerged on that cold, misty morning

when I met my study leaders in the tacky diner above the N1 between Johannesburg

and Pretoria. At some point, Prof Willem said to me: “You really can write; you should

do an autoethnography.”

As I mentioned above, writing about my life has been an intensely difficult experience.

My first drafts were unenthusiastically received by both my supervisors and my story

editor. I began to notice a theme: “… you tell the facts, but you hide the emotions”. I

began to realise that I would need to revisit the stories, particularly taking cognisance

of the pain in writing them and how to share them evocatively. Important was my

supervisors’ and editor’s guidance: “show rather than tell”, as well as to pay attention

to argumentation and logical presentation.

I started scrutinising autoethnographic writing and it became clear to me that this genre

urges one to create stories that use language creatively, to show emotions, images,

experiences, feelings and bodily sensations, rather than applying sterile, objective and

impersonal prose (Ellis, 2015). The awareness of sharing my stories fully and honestly

brought many tears and restless nights, as I revisited memories I had become so adept

at factually analysing. This, finally, resulted in the writing process becoming more

deeply emotional, reflective and experiential. At times this was harrowing, particularly

revisiting my brother’s illness and death, but I began to learn to allow the tears to flow

while writing from my heart. The act of writing the narrative for the thesis seemed to

have the simultaneous effect of deepening my self-awareness and breaking down

long-held defence mechanisms that had protected me from the pain. The stories also

allowed me to become present to my ‘whole self’. Stacey Holman Jones articulates

this beautifully: “Telling our stories is a way for us to be present to each other, provides

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a space for us to create a relationship embodied in the performance of writing and

reading that is reflective, critical, loving and chosen in solidarity” (2011, p. 133).

Deciding what to include and what to exclude became an exercise in self-restraint and

was accompanied by some feelings of loss. I had spent so many hours crafting my

stories over the years that, when I decided to leave a story out, it felt as though I was

leaving my children out in the cold! Mary Anne’s gentle suggestion to leave more out

than in, and Ulrike, the story editor’s, firm removal of certain sections, encouraged me

to take a deep breath and put aside some of these beloved children. To salve my

anxiety, I have kept them in a rambling document I have called ‘One Story’ in my essay

file on my MacBook.

I used the themes of my TEDx talk – choice, courage, control and commitment – to

frame the narrative, while sharing my chronological journey from worrier to warrior and

from mindlessness to mindfulness. I did not explicitly share the theme of mindfulness

in the narrative, as my life had not been lived consciously moving through a

mindfulness journey. The connections to mindfulness had emerged only through a

retrospective reflection on how I had reached a place of empowerment in my life. I

trusted that the mindfulness research underpinning the thesis would provide the

context. The other context was my social and work world.

Managing work and family challenges

Pondering this heading sparked an automatic, conditioned guilt response in me.

Writing a document as large and complex as a thesis inevitably requires sacrifices,

not only from the candidate but also from his or her family and friends. While I have

strict boundaries for myself regarding family time, physical health and work–life

balance, it has been a struggle to keep the study from this space and not risk my loved

ones’ and my well-being.

Turning to my work, this has been a priority borne mainly out of the need to provide

for Gabriel, my mentally challenged son. While I am always acutely aware that it is

incumbent on me to care for him, I am becoming more anxious about the fact that I

need to provide for both his and my old age as well. This demands that I prioritise my

career and work commitments. However, at times I consciously had to turn away some

opportunities to ensure the progress of the thesis and the esteemed doctoral degree,

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which strategically should spearhead greater success in the long term. My work is a

central part of my life, not only financially as a single mother ,but also because it truly

resonates with my Truth, my life purpose. I have a strong desire to become an

internationally acknowledged trainer and motivational speaker and it was a challenge

to slow the trajectory of success so that I could spend time on this thesis.

Turning to my two children …

My daughter, Abigail, loves the fact that she and I are studying at the same time. I

asked her for her thoughts, and she shared how it has inspired her to get to the place

she has reached academically. Abigail is contemplating embarking on her fourth

degree: “See, Mommy, I am catching up with you.”

Because she lives in a different city, the time I spent on my studies did not affect her

personally; I think Gabriel has felt the absence of a mother more. As he gets older, the

impact of his mental disability becomes harsher, as it seems society is less forgiving

to a man than it is to a child. I am uncertain how we will navigate this in the future.

Gabriel has felt the impact of the huge demands of my work, my academic

commitments as well as a new relationship in my life. At the same time, he has had to

struggle with adolescence, a confused gender orientation and a desire for

independence. What was an easy parenting role in his childhood has become a tough

task fraught with challenges as he moves into adulthood. Independence is largely not

possible as, in many ways, he requires greater care and supervision than he did as a

young boy. I am often cognitively absorbed in writing and reading, and I have the

tendency to ‘disappear’. I try to mediate this by setting aside quality time for him and

me, but I do know this has not been nearly enough. This has affected me both

practically and emotionally, and I am aware that he has suffered as well. Writing this

has made me mindful of doing more with him in the future.

My relationship…

My intimate world has shifted dramatically during the writing of the thesis, with a new

relationship giving me the gentle reassurance of support and connection, but it has

also been a challenge because my career and academic commitments take centre

stage. The discipline of turning off my computer in the evening, as well as practising

mindfulness and presence consciously and intentionally, has definitely supported the

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flourishing of a love connection. I look forward to deepening this as the pressure on

my time and energy should lift when my academic journey is completed.

And others in my life…

The rest of my family, particularly my mom and stepdad, have shown constant

encouragement, asking me how things are going and showing me that they believe in

me. Mom still loves to comment, “I don’t know where you come from.”

My school friends who still live in South Africa and I have created a strong support

group for each other, even 35 years after leaving school! They have read my stories,

given me feedback and reminded me of stories from our lives that I had forgotten.

Although my family and friends have cheered me on from the side-lines, they have not

necessarily been personally affected. I am grateful for their and other good friends’

emotional and practical support.

Learnings from doing a doctoral study

On reflection, the most unexpected learning is that I can complete a doctoral thesis.

This is remarkable, as it is a complete turnaround from the conditioned belief that I

have held for most of my life, namely, that I am not academically competent. I have

loved the process of writing and researching. Although an enormous task, the world

of academia is definitely in alignment with my Truth.

The lotus flower reflection that ends my narrative in chapter 7 most powerfully

expresses the essential learning that I have attained:

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I am only just beginning to learn that the warrior is not only about the force and vigour

of Choice and Courage and Commitment and Control. It may also be the gentler

energy of self-acceptance and surrender and love.

As I come to the point of handing in, however, the next hurdle is still to be overcome.

Examination: Anticipations and anxieties

Having completed the draft thesis, I feel as though I am on the last stretch of the

Comrades83 marathon, having completed 79 km with only 10 remaining. I am

exhausted, my feet are on fire. Unable to stomach one more cup of coke, still I grab

another and gulp it down, needing the fuel to get me through. Being totally focused, I

have stopped talking to fellow runners, my brain is low in glycogen and all my energy

is directed towards completing the race. I know that to complete it I need to put one

foot in front of the other until I have covered the few thousand footsteps left to get to

the finish line! Knowing that my family and friends are in the stadium keeps me

motivated as well as thoughts of a hot bath, my pillow, and bed … and not having to

run another step for a long time.

Sitting on the king size bed in my bedroom where I have spent the last few years

writing, reading and crafting this thesis, I feel as though I am finishing my metaphorical

academic Comrades. I say to myself: “Finally, I have reached the last stretch of my

doctoral journey, the final draft thesis; all that remains now is attending to the final

83 The Comrades marathon is a well-known 89 km marathon which is run annually in KwaZulu-Natal

province in South Africa between the cities of Durban and Pietermaritzburg. It is the world's largest and oldest ultra-marathon.

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suggestions of my supervisors and the corrections made by the editors. I should have

the thesis ready to be sent to the three examiners in less than a week. I can hardly

believe that three years of hard, intense work will soon belong to the past!”

I am exhausted and sore. One of the most difficult tasks of writing has been to do it

while half-lying down. I cannot sit in my beautiful study at the antique desk my father

left me, surrounded by all my beloved books because I am almost constantly in pain

from a damaged spine. This probably goes back all the way to when I broke my back

during my first iron man competition. The only time I am not in pain is when I am on

my bicycle. My bicycle is also where I have my greatest insights and revelations. I

smile, as I think that it would be rather difficult to write the thesis while pedalling

furiously along country roads.

At some point I called my friend Mills. “My brain is on fire! If I even think about turning

on my computer or reading another article, I feel exhausted.”

“You are nearly there, Col. You only have the last 5 kays to go. Just have a sip of coke

and get your mind right. You can make it!” It was Mills that came up with the Comrades

marathon metaphor, having done 23 of the races himself. I completed four Comrades

under his careful coaching.

“I know, but it’s not just the thesis. You know I have stopped taking on new work, that

makes me scared too.”

As the finishing line approached, I was speaking to clients as little as possible, my

energy fully engaged on completion and hand-in.

“Okay, so what I have to do now is focus on one task at a time to cover the last few

thousand words and edits.”

I end the call to Mills and phone Mary Anne. She is always so generous with her time.

“Mary Anne, I am over today’s deadline “, I wail pathetically. “What happens if I don’t

hand it in on time? What if the editor can’t get it all done by the end of May? What is

going to happen if we don’t complete? I am panicking.”

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As I knew she would, Mary Anne reassures me: “Don’t worry Colleen I am sure that

one or two days is not going to be a problem. We have your back and you’re well on

track.”

Mary Anne and I spend the next 10 minutes discussing aspects of hand-in, editing,

Turnitin checks, binding; anything, but the daunting task of still having to do the article

and that terrifying prospect of the examination: What will the examiners think of my

work? Will they have problems with it? What, most importantly, will their

recommendation to the Faculty be? And what if they feel my work does not meet the

requirements of a doctoral thesis?

This last thought makes me shiver and I feel as if I am choking; however, reminding

myself that I have two experienced supervisors and two editors, I square my shoulders

and say firmly to myself: “Why this negativity? That’s not like me. Let’s first see what

they do; yes, as a result of human error there will be sentences that are not entirely

clear and perhaps some grammar mistakes, but I can’t see the examiners finding my

work unacceptable!”

I remind myself of my work, my life lessons and most of all that I have spent thousands

of hours and hundreds of pages thinking, crafting and writing about mindfulness. I look

at the picture on my cell phone and think about holding the final examined thesis in

my hand and having a degree conferred on me at the graduation ceremony. I close

my eyes and spend the next 10 minutes meditating, using my breath as anchor.

Bringing myself back to the present allows me to re-engage and re-orientate myself

with a positive focus. Thoughtful and re-energised, my hands begin to fly across the

keyboard once again.

9.5 LOOKING INTO THE FUTURE

A few hours later, I know I need to have what I like to call a ‘brain break’. I stand up,

stretch my aching back and slowly put on my lycra cycling shorts and cotton shirt. As

I clip the helmet and tighten the cleats on my cycling shoes, I think again about the

journey I have been travelling and where it could take me. I am mindful that the last

time I looked into the future on a public platform, I tumbled headlong over my

handlebars and life took some unexpected twists and turns. Not being superstitious I

shall dare again to anticipate the road ahead.

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I hear the familiar click as I clip my shoes into my pedals and take a deep breath. My

legs feel strong as I begin the climb out of my suburb with the lukewarm sun on my

back. As the blood and oxygen refresh my brain, my mind wanders: “I will always try

to honour the learnings I’ve had from writing this study, I am going to be intentional in

that I will use the experience to develop my mindfulness programme that could be of

use to anyone. Brainwise, my company, will be known far and wide and I will be sought

after as the expert in neuroscience and mindfulness!”

A taxi swerves in front of me to let out passengers and I am snapped out of my reverie.

“I am not going to precipitate another crash onto the tar to find the new direction,” I

laugh to myself. Turning right onto Cedar Road, I set off for a couple of hours of blissful

cycling; the cool, early winter breeze rushing past my body, my heart beating

reassuringly, my breaths deep and sure. The cycle ride allows me the freedom to

revive and re-orientate. When I roll back into my driveway, I know that the next few

hours will be productive and focused.

That night I tell Graham that, should I receive the great accolade of a doctoral degree,

it will drive my credibility and influence in my profession. I am committed to ‘walk the

walk’ and be an example of mindful living in every area – with him, my children and

my friends. I also tell him that my next great goal is to publish a book that will enable

others to reach their place of purpose, power and passion. Grand dreams. This

experience has allowed me that.

As I have come to discover, the journey through an academic research study is

characterised by self-doubt and occasional distrust of the output no matter how good

it feels initially. With this in mind, I am aware that I may never be completely satisfied

with the final product but will at some time have to take a final leap and commit to

examination. Now, I need to wrap up the study, discuss the significance and make

recommendations for the future.

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CHAPTER 10

PRÉCIS, IMPLICATIONS AND RECOMMENDATIONS

10.1 INTRODUCTION

In this final chapter I look back at the finished journey. Firstly, I offer a brief overview

of the thesis, secondly, I draw a number of key conclusions from the study’s findings,

thirdly, I present my subjective assessment of the research, fourthly, I indicate its most

significant shortcomings and, finally, I make recommendations for future research.

Bloomberg and Volpe (2008, p. 155) have the following to say about the final chapter:

The final chapter of your dissertation is much more than just a cursory

summary of findings. It is your chance to have the last word about your study,

and it should help the reader decide what to make of your work. It also should

stimulate your readers to think more deeply about the findings of your study

and the implications thereof.

This chapter provides a chance for a final comment on my study and should assist in

evaluating it so that it may provoke reflection on the usefulness of the findings. From

this perspective, I begin the chapter “with the end in mind” (Covey, 1997, p. 53).

10.2 PRÉCIS

My aim with the study was to contribute to scholarship by presenting a mindfulness

model to support personal leadership practices. More particularly, I aimed to

encourage collaboration and integration, as well as to build research credibility and

scientific reference for a topic that is often seen as a ‘soft’ skill of leadership. With this

in mind, my study was structured in four parts.

In section 1, the methodology was presented, beginning with the key that unlocked

the research – my TEDx talk in 2015. From here, chapter 1 introduced my discovery

and engagement with mindfulness and how it became my theme and motivation for

embarking on a doctoral study. The problem statement, purpose and significance of

the study gave rise to the specific research questions presented. Chapter 2

subsequently detailed qualitative research as an approach with specific reference to

autoethnography. This necessitated sharing my research philosophy and approach to

theory and ethical issues, which led to explaining my autoethnographic process.

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Section 2 discussed the literature on mindfulness, leadership and spirituality, with

chapter 3 first introducing the mindfulness construct as a whole. Following this,

chapters 4, 5 and 6 each discussed an element of the threefold conceptualisation –

meditation, intentionality and consciousness. Each aspect was defined and discussed,

and the benefits explored within a neuroscience and spiritually oriented approach to

leadership.

Section 3 detailed my story, describing my evolution from worrier to warrior. In

chapter 7 I shared my life journey. This narrative is written from my perspective and

within the context of my experiences; it reflects my journey through mindfulness and

personal challenge. The model was introduced in section 4, where chapter 8, entitled,

‘The way of the mindful warrior’, described an approach for engaging with mindfulness

in a personal, professional and spiritual leadership context.

Section 5 comprised chapter 9, where the research was wrapped up by reflecting on

my research journey over the three years, and chapter 10, this chapter, which reflects

on the study’s key findings and insights, its significant shortcomings and contributions

and, finally, suggests some areas for future focus. I now move on to the conclusions

drawn from the research.

10.3 CONCLUSIONS

It is my opinion that five broad conclusive statements can be drawn from the research

findings. These are the following:

• Vivid recounting of personal narrative illuminates personal, professional and spiritual wellbeing. The study demonstrates that an autoethnographic

approach is useful in exploring, analysing and understanding mindfulness. As

a personal evocative approach, it acts as stimulus for readers to reflect on

their own lives. From a personal perspective, the awareness of how the

themes of mindlessness and mindfulness (which I characterised as a journey

from worrier to warrior of the mind) had threaded their way through my life was

a revelation. Moreover, reflecting on the techniques and tools that created the

same threads of mindfulness in my clients informed the development of a

model. More specifically, using both the analytic and evocative approaches of

autoethnography allowed for the integration of the personal story and the

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literature, demonstrating the social-scientific relevance of the study (Adams &

Manning, 2015). Finally, it is reasonable to conclude that a narrative may

enhance mindfulness in a way that appeals to the head, the hands and the

heart of personal leadership.

• A coherent definition of mindfulness. The study expands on existing

definitions, engaging in particular with both Eastern and Western

perspectives. Three key elements of the construct are detailed – meditation,

intentionality and consciousness. Drawn largely from the works of Eckhart

Tolle, this last element adds a dimension that is not commonly linked to

mindfulness and gives spiritual depth to a leadership approach. It offers a

powerful means of rising above suffering and individual conditioned

experiences to attain an enlightened collective consciousness. This threefold

definition is expansive and is useful for allowing a deep reflection on and

application of mindfulness in leadership.

• Guiding leaders in implementing purpose, power and presence. The

complexity of spirituality as a leadership competence is brought into focus

using the mindfulness model and process as a means of teaching and

implementing leadership strategies. To do this, I employed an iterative

approach, moving back and forth between narratives and theory while crafting

the conceptual framework (Bryman & Bell, 2011). This approach involved

dancing between description and meaning, to categories and concepts

(Eriksson & Kovalainen, 2008), which created a foundation for understanding

mindfulness at a holistic level. The intention was not to develop an overarching

theory but rather to let the substantive theory emerge in a contextually bound

process. Mindfulness definitions, practices and approaches ultimately offer an

operational tool, allowing an individual to engage with a spiritual approach to

personal leadership. A spiritually aligned leader, who chooses commitment,

courage and self-control as desirable attributes, would most likely attend to

self-awareness and self-management skills.

• Bringing a spiritual dimension to personal and organisational development. The theory, the story and the model are a means of exploring

the complexity of mindfulness and spiritual leadership competencies in an

evocative and practical way. The model in particular has transcended my lived

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experiences of mindfulness (Anderson, 2006) and allowed a process for

operationalising something that is often seen as an intangible concept.

Understanding personal and organisational development has been enhanced

through a mindfulness lens, where meditation, intentionality and

consciousness are useful for addressing the spiritual dimension. The study

has also added credibility and scientific rigour by applying a neuroscience lens

to mindfulness. This adds to the acceptance of leadership as a valid spiritual

competence rather than being seen merely as a behavioural attribute.

• Expanding knowledge. Integrating the existing literature on mindfulness

allowed the development of a definition that combined a holistic sense of mind,

body and spirit. Combining narrative with the mindfulness literature and

building a new model enabled the articulation and practice of mindfulness in

an expansive manner.

An overview of the conclusions in the following section leads to what I believe are the

important contributions of the research.

10.4 KEY CONTRIBUTIONS OF THE STUDY

While some contributions are hinted at in the preceding section, it is important now to

explicate how the study adds value. The study’s overall contributions lie in the

expanding spiritual focus it brings to the area of personal and professional leadership.

This has implications for various areas of specialisation in psychology, organisational

behaviour, human resource management, coaching, motivation and change

management.

I shall specifically discuss the theoretical and practical contributions made by this

research.

A theoretical lens

Demarcating links to mindfulness and its associated concepts within the context of

personal leadership, the conceptual framework increases the understanding and

application of mindfulness as a philosophy and practice in personal and professional

leadership, particularly in the spiritual dimension (Smith, 2009b). By linking

mindfulness as philosophical construct to an anecdote, an integrated scholarly

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approach to leadership is offered. More particularly, a model was created by extracting

the core aspects of mindfulness from various complex definitions and applications

thereof and using personal lived experiences.

The model presents an abstract, miniature theory that emerged from themes derived

from the stories, as well as links to theoretical concepts (such as mindfulness and

leadership). This was supported by leveraging my unique vantage point from which to

access data (Anderson, 2006) in view of the fact that both my business and personal

practice have been immersed in the world of mindfulness and leadership research and

training.

The literature reviewed in this study wove together several perspectives of mindfulness

as a key leadership competence. Various philosophies and ideas were incorporated

including those of Eckhart Tolle (2005, 2009, 2015), Ellen Langer (2009, 2014) and

Daniel Siegel (2010, 2012); Boyatzis (2015), Brown, (2015), Farb et al. (2007),

Grossman (2008), Hassad (2008), Kabat-Zinn (1994, 2003, 2012) and Tang et al.

(2007, 2015).

A final theoretical contribution I would like to highlight relates to the works of Eckhart

Tolle who has a strong following globally. He is seen in the western world as the most

spiritually influential person of the 21st century (Watkins Magazine, 2011). Although,

a best-selling author, published in over 34 languages and a popular media personality,

his teachings can be difficult to translate in practical terms. Connecting mindfulness to

Tolle’s ideas adds value to the understanding of mindfulness as a powerful leadership

strategy, articulating with scientific rigour what is often seen as an unorthodox

philosophy.

The methodology chosen aimed at creating evocative and academic links to a process

whereby the theoretical could become actionable and, therefore, also offers a practical

contribution.

A practical lens

I believe that for a research study to have meaning, implementation and sustainability

are key. In my opinion, the model and the process represent the unique contribution

of the study, namely, to support a practical application for more effective engagement

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in day-to-day leadership activities, as well as facilitating insights into one’s own and

others’ behaviour. The model may be used as a tool for understanding a spiritual

approach to leadership and performance, as organisations and individuals are urged

to self-reflect on the way in which a mindless approach to their own and others’

development may have a detrimental effect on their lives and outcomes. It provides a

means of challenging and understanding unconscious patterns of thinking and

behaviour, leading to the implementation of transformative practices.

The process developed in this thesis is a means of operationalising the model,

challenging the individual to become self-aware and mindful and, therefore, more

effective. This practical application of a wide breadth of mindfulness interpretations is

explored as a guide to developing a spiritual approach to personal leadership.

The model and the process may be applied in a personal or organisational context for

the purposes of training and development to guide leaders to be purposeful, powerful

and present. An individual will, in this way, be supported in their own self-awareness

and personal development journey using the strategies detailed in Chapter 8. In an

organisation, introducing a spiritual model for personal development into leadership

practices will assist leaders in creating a holistic focus on people development, as well

as supporting them to face challenges in their personal and professional lives.

My intention was that this study should not lie on a shelf as a dusty PhD thesis read

only by editors, peer reviewers, supervisors and examiners. Rather the work should

be applied, in a broad range of personal, educational and organisational contexts in

South Africa. I share a reflection from my journal of an unusual context in which I

applied an aspect of the process at a high security correctional facility.

Reflection from my journal: 12 April 2017.

Today, at the Correctional Facility84 I guided 50 or so ‘life prisoners’, convicted of

crimes ranging from murder to rape and other violent acts, through a fifteen-minute

meditation. The clamour of the institution resounded in the background, unrelenting in

84 Correctional Facility – a maximum security prison outside Johannesburg.

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its everyday intense vibration. This maximum-security prison is a universe away from

what I am used to.

Arriving at the prison, I step nervously out of the car into a different country. I look up

at the ceiling while I undergo the obligatory pat down check to see if I am concealing

any contraband. Then the walk through the passage of charge officers and social

workers that could be a walk down the corridor of any government institution if it

weren’t for the bright orange overalls that blur in my peripheral vision. My heart beats

fast as Holly guides me to her functional but sparse office at the end of the corridor.

Holly was my student 11 years ago as I stood in front of my very first classroom,

terrified beyond belief at the daunting task of speaking in front of five A-level

Psychology students. She remembers that first lesson, where I introduced her to Freud

and psychodynamic theory, as a moment that her career direction changed. She is

now a qualified psychologist supporting these 'lifers' to navigate the prison world and

beyond.

I received a mail from Holly 3 weeks ago:

I just wanted to tell you that I recently stumbled across your TED talk on ‘A journey

from a worrier to a warrior’ and I was blown away! I am working as a clinical

psychologist at correctional services and I have a group with individuals serving a life

sentence (they have been incarcerated for about 15–25 years). They seem to have

lost all motivation, and I have recently shown them your video to illustrate that they

have so much power over their brain and that even though they are incarcerated they

still have so much potential. The video has really inspired some of them! One of the

men who is in his late 40s is considering going back to school after seeing your video!

I thought you would like to know that you and Gabriel are motivating so many people,

I am even trying to get hold of some hula hoops to bring into the prison :)

Thank you for your story - you are amazing – Holly.

I didn't bring hula hoops (this time) but I did bring my heart and my brain and a nervous

curiosity. Frank is delegated to guide me through the prison. He has been in the prison

service for over 20 years and takes pride in his knowledge of how the system works.

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I notice that each senior guard in charge of any section, be it gratuities, transition,

medical or solitary confinement, is proud and respectful of the inmates and their own

responsibility. The first section is where offenders who are already incarcerated are

locked up when charged with an additional crime to their original sentence. No sky or

grass or television here. They have two cells with eight beds in each, and a five square

metre 'social' area and a kitchen. The prisoners look up lethargically as we pass

through. I am a little unnerved.

The isolation cells confirm my worst neuroscience and psychology fears about solitary

confinement. The supervisor reveals sombrely that his job is to stop the suicides. He

shares a macabre story about a recent inmate with satanic leanings (perhaps the 666

tattooed on his body gave it away), who had a predilection for scraping the paint off

the wall and using it to tear the flesh from his body.

In striking contrast, I meet the 'headmaster' of the ‘school’. Education up to matric level

is free in the prison. I am shown room after room of students in classes, typing up

assignments, waiting to write exams. The last door my guide opens up has a teacher

motivating five orange-jump-suit-clad students in … Guess which subject? Public

speaking. When we peek inside, he tells us that he is teaching the class that they can

make money out of public speaking. Holly laughs and say: "Guess what? That's what

Colleen does for a living."

"Yes, it's true,” I say, “I make a bunch of money speaking to people." The teacher is

smiling hugely with a 'my point exactly' expression on his face.

As we walk through the cells, 20 bunk beds lining either side of the rooms, my heart

has arrhythmia. What life must be like day after day, night after night, year after year

– sleeping in an unimaginably narrow bunk bed with a thin, lumpy mattress in the same

room as 80 other men. I cannot imagine what it must take to keep your mind intact.

And that is now my task. To teach these men about the brain, about the mind, and to

show them how they could use it better. It is one thing telling a person who has every

opportunity and every resource available to them how to be mindful and positive, quite

another to speak to people living in a physical and metaphorical prison.

The first prisoner enters, smiles at me and takes the seat in the front right corner. He

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is pleasant and kind looking. The inmates, the psychologists, the guards and the admin

staff all traipse in. The mood is light, and they look vaguely curious. I begin:

“What do you want to know about your brain?”

The inmates want to know the same things I am asked in every country, in every

organisation, at every conference. They want to know how to sleep better, how to

remember things, the difference between men’s and women’s brains; also, how to stay

positive in an unbearable life situation. They are curious. They are smart. The man in

the front left corner asks the most questions. He is charming and charismatic.

Finally, I ask them if they would like to learn to meditate. They nod their heads

enthusiastically. In a cold beige room, with linoleum floors and barred windows, these

hard-core life prisoners incarcerated for terrible crimes close their eyes and trust me

to take them through a 15-minute meditation.

I find out afterward that the charming man in the front right is a long-serving life

prisoner. They call him Kaa after the hundred-year-old python in the Jungle Book, who

uses his serpentine hypnosis to draw his prey into his waiting jaws.

Having discussed the conclusions and contributions, I now present my subjective

assessment of the research.

10.5 ASSESSING THE STUDY

It has become practice amongst qualitative researchers to offer a self-assessment of

their work. Having worked hard for years on this study, I found this quite difficult to do.

Also, as is clear from the literature on qualitative inquiry, assessing qualitative

research, including autoethnographical work, is a contentious issue. For example,

Tracy (2013, p. 228) writes:

Devising criteria for scholarly quality is one type of social and humanistic

knowledge; therefore, such criteria are not “discovered,” but constructed. As

Guba and Lincoln (2005) advise: “No matter how real, natural, or objective

they may seem, criteria are social products created by human beings in the

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course of evolving a set of practices to which they (and we) subsequently

agree to conform” (p. 269). Criteria are human-made filters that necessarily

restrict some types of knowledge as they legitimate others; in consequence,

criteria are subjective, ever-changing, and sometimes problematic. In order to

lay the groundwork for discussing qualitative quality, it is important to

understand yardsticks for quality that non-qualitative researchers often use

and may mistakenly impose upon qualitative work.

Having utilised elements of both evocative and analytical autoethnography, I firstly

provide context to describe traditional criteria usually associated with positivist,

quantitative research, secondly, I outline the concepts offered to assess qualitative

work and, finally, turn to autoethnographical concerns.

10.5.1 Positivist quantitative criteria

Traditional assessment criteria applied to objectivity, reliability and generalisability are

not as easily applied in qualitative as in quantitative research and, therefore, are

generally not considered appropriate for judging qualitative research. However, I shall

briefly link these in the context of this research study.

Objectivity

From an objectivity perspective, if the researcher is not seen as a resource for

understanding the world but purely subjectively biased, the validity of the research is

questioned. In this context, autoethnography and in particular the use of self is

problematic. Autoethnography does run the risk of criticism of the genre as a whole,

especially when viewed through a modernist objectivist lens. This requires the

researcher to be rigorous in detailing the methodological strategy chosen (Holt, 2003).

Conversely, the academic review process in a postmodern world needs to be open to

the possibility of autoethnography as a means of challenging dominant forms of

representation (Holt, 2003). I was aiming to challenge the duality of objectivity and

subjectivity through my use of analytical and evocative autoethnography, allowing

literature to support the narrative. Richardson quotes Eisner in this regard: “Scientific

truth tests are as relevant to testing fictional truth as knowledge of chemistry is relevant

to making soufflés” (2008, p. 204). By incorporating analytical autoethnography, I

engaged in a reflexive process demanding the integration of fact and experience. It is

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important to acknowledge that complete objectivity is impossible, no matter how well

intended (Clough, 1998).

Reliability

Anderson (2006) points out that (sociological) inquiry should not be solely directed

towards researchers’ personal biographies and they must avoid personal biases. Also,

important here is to appreciate that memory is fallible, and that researchers’

perceptions of the world determine their experience of reality. This is noted by Ellis et

al. (2010), who insist that reliability for ethnographers implies credibility, that is,

managing literary licence versus factual evidence – albeit from a personal perspective.

Generalisability

Generalisability, from the viewpoint of Ellis et al. (2010), means that the reader

identifies with, and connects to, the narratives shared. “Readers provide validation by

comparing their lives to ours, by thinking about how our lives are similar and different

and the reasons why, and by feeling that the stories have informed them about

unfamiliar people or lives” (p. 7). Méndez (2013) adds that the autoethnographer

should make the reader reflect on and empathise with the narratives. To leverage the

reciprocal nature of the writer–reader relationship, I use the directives from Adams et

al. (2015) to ensure that my thesis

• centres in personal experience

• makes sense of challenging and transformative events

• shows reflexivity (by providing feedback from significant characters

referred to in the story)

• demonstrates insider knowledge of cultural phenomenon, and

experience (in this case mindfulness)

• emphasises social conscience and creates resonance for the reader

• seeks a response from my audience through the application of the

process that arises out of the literature and the narrative.

In this sense, the autoethnographer does not present a picture of the world, but rather

how they made sense of that world (Duncan, 2004).

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As mentioned, conventional assessment measures of objectivity, reliability and

generalisability are not as easily applied in qualitative as in quantitative research. An

assessment of the research may be enhanced by other key markers of quality, which

I discuss now.

10.5.2 Other criteria

Applying a relativist ontology and a subjectivist epistemology, reliability and

consistency are ensured by “trustworthiness” (Eriksson & Kovalainen, 2008; Guba &

Lincoln, 1994), consisting of credibility, transferability, dependability and confirmability.

This is often seen as a more relevant way of applying criteria to qualitative studies.

• Credibility/authenticity. This implies evaluating the findings of a qualitative

research study through the accurate sharing of the researcher’s views. In

addition, the researcher/narrator should be seen as evidencing a truthful

account of his or her life (Ellis et al., 2010). My supervisors ensured credibility

by insisting on a reflexive process of checking my writing and conclusions

regularly.

• Dependability. Here, the requirement is that the research process is logically

well documented and audited. With the help of my supervisors, I ensured to

the best of my ability that the study progressed in a logical and coherent

manner that was aimed at being accessible to the reader. Also, I employed

triangulation, that is, the use of multiple data collection methods, data sources

and peer debriefing, as well as full engagement with my supervisors (Schurink,

2015).

• Confirmability. This concept implies that the evidence provided in the

research report corroborates the findings and interpretations. This was

determined by a thorough auditing process which required a reflexive

approach, moving back and forth between the real-life data gathered, the

model and the process, as well as visiting and revisiting the literature as a

means of pulling together the key threads of mindfulness and leadership.

• Transferability. This refers to the extent to which the design of the study may

be transferable to others. This research aimed to be useful in a theoretical

sense, as well as being of practical relevance to personal and professional

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leadership. The readers should also be able to apply the story to their own

lives.

Tracy (2010) mentions that a profusion of criteria for qualitative goodness exist. She

aims at promoting dialogue among researchers from various paradigms and

substantiating the viability and credibility of qualitative research with a variety of

audiences, offering points for obtaining quality in qualitative research. She mentions,

among other things: a worthy topic – mindfulness is currently a relevant and

significant topic in the area of personal leadership; rich rigour – I ensured thorough

and detailed use of theoretical constructs, samples and contexts; resonance – an

evocative narrative aimed to move readers to enable personal connections to

mindfulness; and significant contribution – as discussed, the study adds to existing

scholarly knowledge through the model and the process.

From the many applications of criteria useful for evaluating qualitative research, I now

move to addressing specific autoethnographic aspects.

10.5.3 Autoethnographical concerns

Autoethnography by its nature lends itself to criticism in areas of ethics, legitimacy,

representation and objectivity (Wall, 2008). Added to this is the deeply personal,

vulnerable and intimate exposure the writer risks. Quite correctly, Ellis (1999) points

out that autoethnography is not something most researchers would be willing to

undertake as it requires a high level of introspection and, potentially, facing aspects of

self that one would rather not face, much less share with others. She also states that

the fear, self-doubt and emotional pain experienced when revisiting one’s past

exposes one as an author to potential emotional and spiritual vulnerability. Having

opted to use autoethnography, my study leaders, as well as my story editor, urged me

to write ‘from the heart’, which was often deeply painful and emotional.

From the perspective of legitimacy and representation, autoethnography may be

considered self-indulgent, introspective and individualised (Holt, 2003). As Breuer

(2005) points out, with the subject and object of research becoming entwined there is

the risk of the researcher becoming absorbed in his or her own story. Sparkes (2002b),

too, acknowledges the risk of self-indulgence but emphasises that vulnerability and

emotional detail, as well as self-awareness and concrete experience, belie this charge.

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Another criticism levelled at autoethnography asserts that narratives focusing on a

single subject are void of social context and, therefore, not amenable to serious social

analysis (Atkinson, 2006). However, as Holt (2003) reminds us, the self is inextricably

entwined with the other and writing about oneself is really about writing about the

social world. With this in mind, the strength of the themes and theories uncovered in

the study, while applying to a single lived experience, also extends to other contexts.

Also, I engaged with my clients and with my working world and shared the process in

many environments and contexts.

Ellis et al. (2010) believe that from an autoethnographic perspective, validity implies

seeking verisimilitude, implying the reader experiencing the story as believable, and

also both reader and writer being “changed” by the experience (Ellis, 2004). Credibility

and authenticity are enhanced by coherence which, in turn, allows the reader to enter

the writer’s subjective world so that the research subject, in this case mindfulness,

may be experienced vividly. The research was not seeking a representative example

but, instead, the reconstruction of a particular narrative (Duncan, 2004). The strength

of the themes and theories uncovered should not, however, as discussed above, only

apply to a single person but be extended to other contexts.

Ellis (2004) emphasises the following elements:

• Aesthetic merit. Does this piece succeed when evaluated from an

aesthetic perspective? Is the text creative, reasonably complex and

engaging? In this regard, as mentioned, I was challenged by my

supervisors and story editor to write ‘from the heart’ and attempted to do

this in a way that was evocative and had literary value.

• Substantive contribution. Does the piece add to our understanding of

social life? I applied both its broad analytic and evocative approaches

and, by weaving of vulnerable narrative with the theory and research,

thus ensured the study’s broad applicability, making it accessible to a

wide audience.

• Reflexivity. What was the motivation for the author in writing this text?

How has subjectivity been addressed? I used a journal throughout the

research journey to document the process and was supported by deep

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reflection, the journals I had kept during the previous decades, and my

conversations with others involved.

• Impact. Does this affect me emotionally and/or intellectually? Does it

generate new questions or move me to action? Bochner (2001) states

that the intentions of narrators to represent their lives accurately, along

with a focus on the usefulness of the research, are important validity

points. Ellis (2004) concurs and adds the importance of the relevance

and value of the story for the writer and/or the reader, the so-called

“narrative truth”. Denzin (2002) reinforces the need for the research

having the potential to change the world for the better. This is evidenced

by the development of the model and the process.

• Expressing a reality. Does this text develop a rich sense of lived

experience? The study details the critical life events that triggered the

discovery of my inner strength through finding meaning and engaging

with mindfulness in my life.

Bearing in mind that validity may take on various meanings (Sparkes, 2002), I engaged

these elements to the best of my ability. Lastly, writing my story was challenging since

I had to manage the ethical dilemma of exposing others. This I handled firstly by

seeking and obtaining permission to include them, and secondly, by camouflaging

those I was unable to access for permission. Thirdly, I allowed those concerned to

read the stories and give me feedback. This was discussed in some detail in the

section where I described selecting the lived experiences.

A discussion of the relevant qualitative and autoethnographic criteria that were met in

assessing this study leads to a reflection on significant shortcomings.

10.6 MOST SIGNIFICANT SHORTCOMINGS

While I did my utmost to ensure that the requirements of both evocative and analytic

autoethnography, as well as qualitative criteria, were attended to, as with any

academic work, the thesis is not without shortcomings:

• An obvious shortcoming in an autoethnography will always be the biased

lens through which the story is written. This is inevitable, as a story may

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really only be told from the perspective of the writer. By acknowledging

subjectivity, I hope to alleviate the potential risk this creates.

• My writing style, although greatly aided by the wisdom and expertise of

my ‘story editor’, is that of a novice. I have attempted to engage

authentically and emotively and hope that the transparency of my

thoughts and feelings will make my story accessible to the reader.

• Making sense of a broad topic such as mindfulness is a challenge. The

literature on mindfulness is vast and it was, in the light of the confines of

a thesis, not possible to engage with every aspect thereof; nevertheless,

considering the purpose and nature of the study, I am confident that I

managed to create an in-depth and accessible definition of mindfulness

• The theoretical framework underpinning the process through which one

may engage with mindfulness is, of necessity, limited in scope. I selected

elements that have had the greatest meaning and impact not only in my

life, but in those I have engaged with through the years. I acknowledge

that other important frameworks could add value to a journey in personal

leadership.

• Lastly, the findings and interpretations, with a focus on reliability and

validity, would be enhanced through a testing of the model and process

in personal and organisational contexts, to ensure applicability and an

engagement with the breadth of the topic of mindfulness and

environmental relevance.

10.7 RECOMMENDATIONS FOR FUTURE RESEARCH

Having considered the preceding sections and especially the conclusions and

shortcomings in following Bloomberg and Volpe (2008), I focus on tangible action here.

In considering this, I apply the following perspectives: facilitating self-awareness,

developing the model, enriching mindfulness training programmes, and deepening

theoretical rigour.

Facilitating self-awareness

As a research genre, autoethnography holds great value for mindfulness theory and

practice because of the deeply personal and reflective narrative, requiring both writer

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and reader to be mindful of their own experiences, responses and beliefs, as they

compile their story or reflect on their lives. Consider a reciprocal activity where

mindfulness may enhance autoethnographic research through students’ use of

meditation, intentionality and consciousness, applying these to the research and

writing process. Here, an understanding of mindfulness could add value to master’s

and doctoral students’ autoethnographic and other research endeavours. Applying the

model as a tool for facilitating focus, self-discipline and self-awareness could enhance

others’ biographical accounts of mindfulness, which, in turn, would add to the further

understanding of its impact in research and related activities.

Refining the model

The construct of mindfulness is broad one; therefore, the attempt made in the present

study to illuminate it by employing various perspectives and drawing together

disparate conceptualisations of mindfulness into an innovative model for personal

leadership is, of necessity, not exhaustive. It would be useful in further research to

study it from a theoretical as well as a practical viewpoint. The model could be refined

through an even deeper engagement with the subject of mindfulness, as the literature

and perceptions of the construct are vast, complex and sometimes even divergent.

Practically, the model may be understood and applied in different ways as a tool for

self-awareness, leadership aptitude and competence, as well as for personal

empowerment.

Enriching mindfulness training programmes

It is important to illuminate the understanding and application of mindfulness as a

leadership tool; in particular, how the threefold conceptualisation of mindfulness and

the process may be applied in different settings other than personal or organisational

leadership, for example schools, self-help groups, NGOs, spiritual environments and

therapeutic settings. It may also be of interest to ascertain how leaders accepting a

mindful approach in both their life and work incorporate the process in their own

leadership style or within the organisation.

Deepening the model’s theoretical rigour

In enhancing theoretical rigour of the mindfulness model, it is necessary to further

explore the application of meditation, intentionality and consciousness; in particular,

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its effectiveness needs to be assessed. This could take the form of qualitative or

quantitative research, or both.

Finally, as a practice, mindfulness may be applied to other aspects of human life and

other study areas, for example music, sport, the workplace, the academic world,

relationships, psychotherapy and teaching. As a general recommendation, readers of

the thesis may engage with the proposed process to enhance learning and be

motivated to act and, finally, to achieve personal mastery.

10.8 FINAL REFLECTIONS

The personal value of writing this autoethnography for me was in providing me with a

deep understanding of myself and my relationship to the world, as I confronted life-

changing events. My understanding of my core purpose on earth is mirrored by Ellis’s

(1999, p. 672) remark: “Autoethnography provides an avenue for doing something

meaningful for yourself and the world.” I feel alive and purposeful when I am sharing

the art, science and practice of mindfulness in my writing, speaking and training.

Writing this autoethnography not only enabled a logical and rigorous research process

that validated the subject of mindfulness, but also offered a cathartic reflection and

analysis of my life journey. I am mindful of living more and more in the present and am

encouraged to share this awareness on every platform available to me. Receiving

messages and e-mails about how learning about mindfulness has given others a life

of purpose, passion and power has actualised my self-identified life purpose of being

a catalyst for change.

This study was a journey of discovery for me. I gained a perspective and awareness

of the value of the traumatic experiences I endured. It also led to consolidating and

embedding my understanding of mindfulness, which allowed me to create a process

that begins to fulfil my wish of being a catalyst for change.

As I prepare to lunge for the finishing tape on this PhD ride, I take a breath. Having

researched self-awareness and personal development for many years, I know that the

journey has only just begun. As a coach, a teacher, a mindfulness practitioner and a

hesitant spiritual student, I agree wholeheartedly with Frank Herbert that “the

beginning of knowledge is the discovery of something we do not understand” (2008,

p. 150). I am not the master but the student. I smile as I reflect that the young, insecure,

P a g e | 291

self-conscious me would have been in awe if she had seen what she would become

in her adult years. As I cover the last few yards, I cannot help thinking how I may reflect

back to this moment when I get back on my bicycle to ride the next one.

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ANNEXURES

Appendix A: A practical process for applying a spiritual model for personal leadership, supporting document.

INTRODUCTION

Appendix A serves as a supporting document for chapter 8: A practical process for

applying a spiritual model for personal leadership. The appendix contains stories,

information and details – labelled as ‘Notes – as well as ‘Activities’ that add value to

the model developed in chapter 8. Notes are drawn from clients, presentations,

research and personal experience. Activities are aimed at providing a practical

application of the model. I use symbols to describe these, as used in chapter 8, in

order to orientate the reader.

Notes

Activities

THE WAY OF THE MINDFUL WARRIOR (see section 8.4)

CHOICE (see section 8.4.1)

i. Mindful of the curve

Activity 1. Identifying symptoms

The signs of burnout as mentioned in chapter 8 are mood swings, aggression,

tiredness, inability to sleep or poor sleep experiences, eating too much or too little,

defensiveness, blaming and making excuses, taking things personally, withdrawal,

absenteeism, passive-aggressive responses, agitation, depression, pessimism,

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catastrophising, anxiety, making unforced errors, restlessness, irritability, difficulty

concentrating, muscle tension, social withdrawal, addiction and substance abuse

(alcohol, narcotics, pharmaceuticals, food), panic attacks and phobias, illness,

accidents.

1. Circle the symptoms you have been experiencing.

2. What is your insight?

ii. Living your Truth

Note 1. Nurture trumps Nature

Turning to my family, our fun motto is ‘nurture trumps nature’ and we like to believe

that our home environment has superseded biological legacy. My daughter, Abigail,

who has an honours degree in neuroscience and who is currently completing her

fourth degree, often remarks that we are in a race to gather degrees. My brain-

damaged 18-year-old son, Gabriel, with a medical prognosis of being incapable of

reading or writing, is currently completing Grade 7. Nurture plays its cards through the

hands of choice, commitment, courage and self-control.

Activity 2: Defining your Truth

Part 1. Reflect

Describe moments or activities in your life when you have been in ‘flow’. These can

be in any context – work, social, sporting, recreational. Add any negative experiences

or times where you have felt disconnected, weak or depressed. Also identify people

whom you admire or dislike

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Part 2. The critical question

What about those experiences and those people who made you feel so good or so

bad? Identify what about those people makes you like or dislike them?

Here, you want to find and identify the qualities of that experience. For the positives,

these are the nouns or verbs that best describe the qualities. For example, if you love

the part of your job where you are finding solutions and achieving results, your core

values could be having vision, problem solving and accomplishment. The negatives

are the equal and opposite noun or verb. For example, if you dislike people who are

controlling and narrow-minded, your core values could be collaboration, adaptability

and non-judgemental.

Part 3. Values list

These qualities become your core values list – this in turn defines your Truth.

iii. Uncovering the dead zone

Activity 3: Your dead zone

Reflect on where you are not honouring your Truth and where you are experiencing

any of the dead zone symptoms.

Some suggested areas for reflection include close relationships; social life; physical

health; job/career; finance; personal growth; living environment; spirituality; work/life

balance; recreation/leisure; nutrition; community studies, etc.

COURAGE (see section 8.4,2)

i. Meditation as foundation

Activity 4: Mindfulness meditation reflection after doing the

meditation: http://www.brainwise.co.za/index.php/blog

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It is useful to be conscious of what the meditation experience elicited. I will share ideas

that are often generated when I ask this question after a mindfulness meditation

experience, adding my thoughts.

• Peace. The meditation allows a sense of calm and peacefulness. The heart

rate slows down, and anxiety disappears. This technique may be used

whenever one feels anxious or stressed or is in an emotional situation. Just

paying attention to sensory experiences immediately lowers allostatic load

and reduces stress levels. The narrative in our head causes the threat

response. Letting go of the story releases us from experiences of worry and

fear.

• Deeper awareness and experience. You would have noticed things that you

would not have been aware of before. Sounds, both near and far, suddenly

become apparent. Sensations become focused. People use this technique to

experience their world more intensely. Every day I go outdoors and pay

attention to the sensation of the grass under my feet; I notice the colour of a

rose in full bloom; I listen to the sounds of the birds in the air. Remember to

taste your food, to listen to the music and to look at your child’s face.

• Neuroplasticity. Many people notice how difficult it is to focus our attention in

the present. Recall the concept of neuroplasticity; the more you use any part

of your brain, the stronger and denser that part becomes (Lazar et al., 2005;

Van Vugt, 2015). I call mindfulness meditation a ‘gym session for the brain’, in

particular for the pre-frontal cortex. The more you practice, the easier it

becomes.

• Self-control. During meditation, the Ventro-lateral prefrontal cortex (VLPFC) is

activated. This is the part of the brain we use to practise self-control (Rock,

2009). It is connected to emotional regulation and inhibiting impulsive

behaviour. As a brain exercise, mindfulness meditation develops the VLPFC

and the more you do it the stronger it becomes (Hassad, 2008; Lutz et al.,

2008; Moore & Malinowski, 2009). Meditation is the ‘gym session’ for

developing self-discipline.

• Physical relaxation. During this mindfulness practice, people notice that they

tension in various parts of the body, that they had not been aware of. They

comment how useful it is to focus on allowing the body to relax. A useful

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meditation practice is a body scan meditation. This is an effective way to

become alert to your physical state and to consciously release tension. At any

time, scan your body for stress and allow yourself to release that tension.

• Sleep. Occasionally people fall asleep during meditation. Mindfulness

meditation is a useful sleep technique for insomniacs. Listen to the sounds of

the night air. Feel the sensation of the sheets against your body. Notice your

breathing as you breathe in and out. I usually make sure that I’m doing my

meditation practice in the morning when I’m not tired, because when I do it in

the afternoon, I often fall asleep and do not get the full benefit of the practice.

Note 2. Tips for engaging with a mindfulness meditation practice

i. Create a regular daily mindfulness practice or routine.

ii. Consider mindfulness meditation applications available for digital devices.

iii. Download audio or video meditations on your cell phone or on your computer.

These are often available for free. I keep a selection of five-minute, 10-minute

and 20-minute meditations that I use when I have a gap in my day.

iv. Consider the many meditations that are available. The most commonly used

are breath awareness meditations. You will find meditations on compassion,

body scans, self-awareness, loving kindness, observing thought, and many

more. Choose whichever meditation is appropriate for your needs.

v. Download a mindfulness bell on your cell phone to remind you at various

points during the day to become conscious and to pay attention to the present.

ii. Sentiments of emotion

Note 4. Invalidation

Notice if you recognise the following responses from those around you:

• Don’t be angry.

• You mustn't feel.

• Don’t be sad.

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• Why are you upset, it’s nothing?

• You shouldn't take it personally.

• It’ll feel better in the long run.

• It is for the best.

• It’s not such a big deal.

• Don't worry – it’s nothing.

• My worst is when someone dies: ‘They are in a better place’ – I ask: ‘How

do you know? Have you been there?’

• Or – It must have happened for a reason.

Are you saying these statements to your friends? Are you saying them to your

children? Are you saying them to yourself? I helped a client who had the sincere desire

to be the best father he could be to his son. He was asking me about his son’s midnight

terrors. His son was waking up every night from terrible dreams; sometimes

screaming. I asked him what his response is to his son was?

He replied: “I tell him that it’s just a dream. I tell him he must calm down and everything

will be all right. I just can’t bear it – I wish he could just get over it.”

Look at this response. Five invalidations in one sentence! His five-year-old son is being

told that his fear is irrelevant and not real. He’s been told that he is not allowed to get

upset and express his fear in a safe place with his father who is meant to protect him.

He’s been told that despite his real experience of terror, the world is mysteriously

completely safe. This father, himself, cannot manage his emotional response to his

son’s fears and he is sending his son a message that his reality is invalid and not

allowed. This man is, however, one of the most loving and committed fathers I know.

He just has not been taught to be present with the emotional states of others.

The father asks me: “So what should I tell him?”

I reply, “Just tell him that it is fine to be scared. Ask him what scared looks like and

feels like? I always ask my son, with his damaged brain, to describe to me what animal

he is feeling like. He says, ‘I am feeling like an elephant, all heavy’; or ‘I am feeling like

a dormouse, hiding in a hole’. This gives him a language for his emotions. Tell your

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son he can come to you any time and tell you his feelings and that you will be there to

comfort him.”

Activity 2. Learning from sad

• List the key experiences in your life that have caused you sadness,

regret or disappointment.

• Opposite this, list what it is that you have learnt from those experiences.

For example, I have deep regret that I smoked for 20 years. When I write what I learnt

from the experience, I realise that I have learnt techniques to overcome addiction; that

I have the courage and commitment to overcome poor habits; that I have learnt to

have compassion for others caught in the trap of unhealthy mental and physical habits,

as well as to value my health. In turn, these lessons have allowed me to work with my

clients with compassion.

Note 5. A language for emotions

I ask Kevin, my CEO client: “Kevin, how does that make you feel?”

He replies: “Like I am ready to start planning.”

I continue: “How does that feel?” He answers: “Like I am ready to get into action.”

He has lost his connection to his emotional state. He does not know how to feel, much

less to put a name to his feelings. Imagine what he is like with his staff? Leadership

research shows a strong correlation between understanding emotions and having

empathy with assessed qualities of good leadership, so we need to validate, not

invalidate, emotional states (Boyatzis, 2015; Worldsview Consulting, 2009).

A friend of mine asked me to speak to her sister, whose son had been tragically killed

in terrible motorcycle accident three years before. She had been driving behind her

son as they returned from a business meeting, and she watched in horror as a car

sped through a red traffic light and smashed into his motorbike, throwing his body like

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a rag doll into the air. For three years this woman had been grieving, unable to live a

normal life. I asked her how she felt.

“I know I should be over it by now, everybody keeps telling me to move on; to let

Connor go, but I just feel incapable of getting over it. I’m unable to experience any kind

of joy, I am never at peace. Ever.”

I again asked her gently: “Tell me how you feel?”

She was quiet for a long time and then tears began to slide from her eyes and down

her face. Ragged emotions gathered momentum. She took great gasps of air as

though she was drowning, and a keening sound came from the depths of her soul. A

mother was grieving for her son. It lasted a while. And then she began to draw deeper,

quieter breaths, the tension in her face smoothed out, and the energy around her body

began to lighten.

She looked at me: “I haven’t done that in the longest time. I keep feeling like I should

not upset people. They keep telling me he’s in a better place. I needed to do that.”

She was contemplative for a long time.

‘Feeling felt’ is something we experience when another person can be present with us

in our pain and acknowledge our emotions (Germer, Siegel & Fulton, 2005; Siegel,

2010, 2012). This implies compassion paired with presence and acceptance. Merely

by hearing, “I see your pain”, allows us to be vulnerable and to heal.

Activity 6: Feeling felt

Be present with your and others’ painful or negative feelings whenever they occur.

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iii. Mindful of thinking

Note 6. Sizwe’s story

I ask the participants in my workshops to think about and write down a situation or

situations that make them mad, sad, irritated, resentful or frustrated (or any other

negative emotion).

After they have reflected, I say: “Is your heart beating faster? Are you experiencing

that emotion right now?”

Inevitably, merely thinking about a negative or positive experience will elicit an

emotional response. I then for ask a person who is feeling brave, really brave… to

volunteer to talk through this event.

Examples run from the more mundane: ‘I cannot stand people who always come late

to the meeting’; to the heartbroken: ‘I caught my husband having an affair with my best

friend in my bedroom six years ago’; to the tragic: ‘I lost my partner; my best friend,

and I can’t get over it’. Sometimes, the event occurred a week ago, sometimes

decades ago.

Interestingly, the more heartfelt and impactful the experience shared, the more the

group learns from the exercise.

Sizwe’s story

A seven-foot tall, heavily muscled and gentle-looking African man by the name of

Sizwe shares his story.

“About 14 years ago, I got a phone call from my sister to say that her husband had

beaten her again. He had been drinking and something she had said or done had

irritated him. I can’t remember what it was.”

As he relates the story, a fine layer of sweat appears on Sizwe’s upper lip. “It was

absolutely the last straw for me. I couldn’t tolerate him doing it again; the next couple

of hours are a complete blank in my mind. The only thing I remember is the colour.

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The world was red, it was like blood was in my eyes and I was looking through a mist

of red. I had gotten in my car and driven to their house. I smashed the door open, went

straight into the living room, picked him up by his neck and punched his head, over

and over. He was out cold. My sister was screaming. I still remember that red. “

The other participants are riveted. We start to feel our own physiological responses

almost as if we were witnessing the event.

There was a long silence. I could hear the shallow breathing of his colleagues who

had never heard his story. Sizwe took a deep breath: “He was dead. I killed him. I went

to prison for four years on a charge of manslaughter for that.”

“Sizwe, as you are relating the story how is it making you feel?” I ask.

“I am still as angry as if it was 14 years ago. My sister has remarried, thank god, but I

will never ever get over it. I will never forgive him. I am not sorry I did it. My wife left

me because of that. She emigrated with my kid, and I haven’t seen him since I went

to prison. She won't let him visit. He won’t answer my mails or my calls. He is 18 now.”

Now comes the tough part, I ask: “Sizwe in what way was this the best thing that ever

happened to you?” The group roll their eyes. I can almost hear their thoughts: ‘We’ve

seen her say some crazy stuff, but now she really has gone too far.’

Sizwe looks at me. “Not a chance, there was nothing good about what happened.”

“How do you think you can think differently about it?” I continue. The group are

incredulous.

Sizwe looks amused: “How could I possibly think differently; it is what it is.”

They group look at me expectantly. “Sizwe, what have you learnt from this

experience?” I ask.

“Well, I guess … I have learnt how easy it is to destroy my life”. He hesitates and then

says: “I don’t take one moment of freedom for granted.”

“Sizwe, what this man did was completely unacceptable. The reality of what he did

was dreadful. He had no right to be abusive to your sister. But the consequences for

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you have been four years of incarceration, the loss of your wife, no relationship with

your child … And I’m sure that’s only the start of it. Sizwe, what wisdom have you

gained from this experience?”

“I … I guess if I had to go back again …”

There is a long silence. I can feel the group holding a collective breath. I don't take my

eyes off Sizwe. After a few moments, he responds: “I would do it differently.”

I have learnt not to stop. “What advice would you give your son in the same situation,

Sizwe?” I ask.

“I would tell him that no person is worth going to prison for. He got off easy, he was

the one who should’ve been in prison.”’ Sizwe hesitates, his eyes are moist. “I would

tell him the wise thing to do would always be to stay cool. Yeah. That’s what I would

tell my son.”

“And how has this experience grown wisdom in you?”

Sizwe reflects, “Um, I guess I have learnt the value of my freedom. I have learnt that

violence can only lead to unhappiness. I do so much work in my community now

against women abuse. The other thing that I do that I am proud of is that my sister’s

husband had a child too … and I pay for his schooling and his care. The kid doesn’t

know it’s me paying.”

Sizwe looks at me. His body is calm. His face is peaceful. “I get it,” he says as he

realises what the experience means to him now. He cannot change what has

happened, but he has understood the gift that a terrible experience has given him. He

is making a difference in his community and has gained a depth of character that few

others have.

Understanding that we cannot change reality:

I show the group the iceberg model, explaining the process of how our thinking

determines out emotions, which determine our actions and our results. I then draw a

block below the iceberg, and label it ‘reality’. I call it the ‘sea floor’, half joking that:

‘there is no such thing as reality anyway, but let’s pretend for a bit there is …’

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I say: “We have no control over reality, over the sea floor. Life throws difficult things at

us. A tornado destroys your house, politicians are corrupt and your best friend dies.

We cannot change this. The only thing we have control of is our thinking about the

experience. Wishing that something had not happened, dreaming that things were

different, getting angry, or sad, or mad, or irritated – this is giving your power away to

something that you cannot change. It is like asking the wind not to blow. This is not to

say that the behaviour or the circumstance is acceptable, or not sad, even tragic; it is

not to say that you should not grieve; but you cannot change that circumstance. The

only thing that you can change is your thinking about it, and thereby your emotional

response, your reaction and the result.”

I share my story with the group. “In 2005, on the tenth of August, I sat before a panel

of professors who told me that my son was irreparably and permanently brain-

damaged. He is the victim of a devastating diagnosis with a poor prognosis. He has

FAS or foetal alcohol syndrome. His biological mother had been drinking during her

pregnancy. I had no idea. My funny, outgoing, talkative child was never even going to

reach the cognitive age of a 12-year-old. I cried all the way home. Sometimes I still

cry, but I’ve learnt that I cannot change it. Also, that moment in August changed my

life and forced me to step into my power.”85

Sizwe called me a few months later. “That conversation we had in June. It was like I

finally walked out of prison. For the first time, I can feel at peace about what happened.

It is still a terrible part of my life, but now I can let it go. And the best news of all is that

I am going to meet my son. He called and asked to meet me. I hope I can finally make

it right with him.”

Activity 7. SOAR

SOARing above

We can consciously manage and leverage our emotional responses to any situation.

I have developed a four-point method for reappraising a difficult event in the moment

it occurs, or when we become aware that our thoughts are triggering a dysfunctional

85 The story of Gabriel’s disability is covered in chapter 7.

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response. I call it ‘SOAR’, an acronym for Situation, Observation, Appraisal and

Response.

i. Soar

An initiating even occurs; a situation. Something is happening. Be conscious

of your somatic responses: where in your body do you respond

instantaneously? Your gut clenches, your solar plexus twists, or your throat

closes. (For example, you call a team meeting to discuss an important project,

but the group start chatting amongst themselves. You feel resentful and your

throat tightens.)

ii. SOar

Take the time to observe the event and pay attention to what is happening.

(The team members seem disconnected and uncaring about the project.)

iii. SoAr

Then appraise the situation. This is the critical step, which involves cognitive

change. It is the point at which a variety of emotions may be experienced as

we interpret the meaning of the situation. (The team is being disrespectful, or

the team is going to watch a soccer match together this afternoon and is

excited.)

iv. SoaR

Finally, we respond to the meaning we give to the situation. I may take the

low road response – instinctive, reactive (I see the team as insubordinate and

throw the proverbial toys out of the cot); or the high road response – thinking,

rational, controlled (I am pleased that they are connected and having fun and

set up a meeting for the team after they have watched the match).

The SOAR strategy becomes the braking system that prevents an irrational emotional

response. Remember that emotions are real and powerful and are critical drivers of

behaviour. It is, however, what we do with them that counts. Using SOAR takes

commitment and practice. The ability to be in the present, to notice our physiological

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responses and to reappraise are supported by the mindfulness practices discussed –

meditation, intention and consciousness.

CONTROL (see section 8.4.3)

i. Conditioning: Shadows and light

Note 7. Pieter’s story

My client, Pieter, who holds a senior position with an international airline, tells me

about his life.

“I grew up in an ordinary enough family. Traditional, Afrikaans, and on a farm. My mom

looked after the kids, we went to the local school till we were 10 and then we were

sent away to boarding school.”

I ask what his parents were like.

“Good enough parents, I guess. They never beat us.”

I have heard this often – ‘my life was ordinary’, or ‘I wasn't beaten’. Even, ‘I was hit a

lot, but it was because I was naughty’. Sometimes, the rationalisation is: ‘because it

was normal in those days’; or ‘because that was the only way I could be managed’; or

‘because my parents didn't know any different’.

Pieter goes on to tell me that his mother suffered from terrible depression her whole

life and the family were always tip-toeing around her, managing her sadness. After

many failed suicide attempts, she was sent to an institution when he was 18 years old.

His father was stoic and hard-working, and the boys were expected to look after

themselves and help their mother in any way they could before she was admitted to

the institution.

I ask Pieter if he remembers any defining moment from his school years. “It’s quite

funny, I guess. I remember when I was about eight, everyone in the class was invited

to a party and I wasn't. I thought it was the worst thing that could have happened to

me. I know it’s ridiculous, but I still think about it often.”

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I notice how he invalidates his feelings. Pieter continues telling me about his life which

was one of neglect, lack of maternal care and rigid boundaries.

We engage in a long discussion about how the 5, or 10, or 15-year-old child would

have experienced this. We discover how he created adaptive assumptions about

himself and the world through his experiences. Although he does not think that his

childhood years were particularly out of the ordinary, he has never understood that

they had a profound impact on the way he sees himself and the conditioned beliefs he

has about himself.

The AAs that Pieter had created were:

• I am not powerful

• I don't belong

• I have to be good/perfect/responsible

• I am not good enough

• The world is unsafe

• I must not be vulnerable

How these AAs had played out in his adult life is a through a lack of trusting

relationships with women. He is a rescuer – always taking responsibility for loved ones,

even micromanaging his staff. Pieter was exhausted from overwork and was unable

to set boundaries for himself or others. He has little work–life balance, constantly

feeling like he had to achieve more and more and never quite feeling good enough.

Although successful and good looking, he attracted needy women with low emotional

regulation. He had no idea that his childhood and life experiences had shaped his

beliefs about himself, which influenced his thoughts, emotions and experiences. Once

he could understand where and how he was limiting himself, he could begin the

journey towards healing and rewiring his beliefs. The Truth for Pieter was the equal

and opposite of his AAs:

• I am powerful

• I belong

• I don't have to be good/perfect/responsible

• I am good enough

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• The world is safe

• I may be vulnerable

When Pieter embedded these beliefs, he began to live a life with healthy choices and

boundaries, unconstrained by self-doubt.

Note 8. An adult child of an alcoholic

After a particularly emotional and demanding session with a client who had grown up

in an alcoholic family and had never been supported to understand the damaging

impact that it had, we created a list of her AAs. She shuddered as she pictured her

family home. The memories were not reassuring. She carried the legacy of that difficult

life into her current relationships and career. By becoming aware of the impact that

living in the chaos and trauma of an alcoholic family had had on her as a child, she

was able to begin the journey towards more functional choices. Her AAs were that she

was unimportant, did not count and, even stronger, that she was responsible for

everyone and everything. Her choices in relationships were classically co-dependent

(Beattie, 1987) and so dysfunctional that she reeled from one abusive partner to the

next. In her job as a banking executive, people took advantage of her and she worked

hours that left her feeling continuously exhausted and physically ill. She found it

impossible to say ‘no’ and suffered crippling guilt about her children but was unable to

put up boundaries to support a healthy work–life balance. When she began to

understand how her behaviour was driven by the power of the AA, she began to

consciously understand and choose better responses. Slowly, she began to

understand herself and gain some control over her life.

Activity 8. Adaptive assumption sourcing

i. Think of your childhood, your position in the family, defining experiences or

strong memories. Remember to think of any influential area that may have

had an impact on you – society/parents/broader family/caregivers/schooling/

religion/culture/political system.

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ii. What AAs have you created because of these relationships/experiences?

Note 9. Discovering the dragon: Daleen’s story

Daleen is an entrepreneur who has achieved remarkable success in establishing a

powerful online merchandising business, held up as an example worldwide for

efficiency and high service orientation. I have coached her for many years and

watched in admiration as she fought the dragon that wrapped itself around the

accomplishments and material success that were celebrated by everyone but Daleen.

As her organisation grew and eventually was listed on the stock exchange, Daleen

received enormous external validation and respect. Interviewed on radio and

television, with people in politics and business seeking her advice, she still didn’t

believe in herself.

Through the years as I coached her, Daleen’s dragon was alive and well, despite her

visible success. Her adaptive assumptions fed the dragon. Her AAs were: ‘I am not

worthy’; ‘I am not good enough’; ‘I have to be perfect’; ‘I am not loveable’.

Daleen had enemies and jealous colleagues who would use any opportunity to criticise

and judge her. My favourite saying to her was: ‘Tall trees catch the most wind.’ She

certainly caught her fair share. The problem was that whenever she was put down or

snubbed, it was a metaphorical dagger in her heart. She had almost no tolerance for

the criticism and envy she inevitably received.

Daleen grew up in a privileged home. She was a much longed for child and held all

her parents’ hopes and expectations. Unfortunately, they were incapable of showing

affection and unconditional positive regard. As an only child, she was put under

enormous pressure to succeed and was rarely rewarded for her efforts. Being in the

top 10 per cent academically at school wasn't enough; she had to be the best. She

was sent for music lessons and had to participate in three sports, although she hated

physical activities. She felt shamed whenever she did not achieve. Her nurturing needs

as a child and adolescent were ignored, the pressure was to always achieve.

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Daleen began to understand how the dragon had been borne out a self-defence

mechanism to protect herself against the invalidation and emotional neglect she had

experienced. As child it was bewildering for her to feel that she could never live up to

her family’s expectations, and never to feel loved unless she was achieving. Her

dragon was created as a buffer to these experiences. If I am not good enough/not

worthy – all her AAs – then I won’t feel the emotional pain of never being validated

and conditionally loved.

Every time Daleen was criticised or disparaged in her adult life, she would feel it with

the intensity of the child being invalidated. The pain was intense and experienced as

physical and emotional pain. The dragon would rear its head every time she felt

incompetent., or less than perfect She would become defensive, reactive or

immobilised. Then in turn she would work harder, relentlessly pushing herself, a spiral

that continually fed her dragon.

Daleen called her dragon ‘Scar’ from the movie The Lion King. Scar was kept alive

and well as she repeatedly visited the world of her perceived limitations despite all the

evidence to the contrary. Scar dominated her responses, until Daleen began the

journey of self-awareness and self-actualisation. She did much work towards stepping

away from ‘Scar’ thinking and behaviour towards discovering and honouring her Truth.

Daleen’s journey to success has taken commitment and effort. As she stepped closer

and closer to her Truth, she became conscious of the pain of the AA. After mentally

putting Scar into his cage, whenever he appeared, Daleen began to live with an

emotional and psychological sense of well-being. Her desperate desire for peace of

mind started to become reality.

She laughs wryly, “Having the courage to step into Truth is not a journey for the faint

of heart!”

The punitive parents, judge and juror, masquerading as thoughts in her head, now sit

at the back of the auditorium in her mind. Some people moved out of her life as she

stopped rescuing and excusing their behaviours. New boundaries were drawn in her

relationships, which shifted the patterns of relationship behaviour and dysfunctional

dynamics. Not everyone was happy with that, but Daleen knew that she had a new

and more powerful theatre in which her life story could unfold.

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Sometimes people like to characterise their Truth. Daleen called hers: ‘Crystal Being’.

The front row seats are now occupied with the equal and opposite of the adaptive

assumptions: ‘I am good enough’; ‘I am worthy’; ‘I don't have to be perfect’ and ‘I am

loveable’. Sometimes, Scar still dominates her thought or actions, but the Crystal

Being is always there as an anchor when she becomes mindful of her choices.

Activity 9. Turning your AA inside out

• How do you limit yourself through your AA?

• What has doing this cost you?

• What is the payoff from this?

• What is the AA called?

• Is this true?

• Are you willing to let go of this AA?

• Think of a statement that is the opposite (positive, personal, and present

tense).

• Actions to embed this

ii. Get out of the feather bed

Activity 10. Identify your dragon and your Truth

Here you are challenged to identify your dragon and your Truth as a Disney or movie

character, or a colour, or symbol, or metaphor or archetype.

Many of my clients create their own name for the saboteur. We make a game of it.

The characterisation of the AA should be fun and imaginative, not serious or heavy –

it is not real – it is only a protective mechanism, and we are grateful for it. It is what

enabled us to remain psychologically intact in what may otherwise have been an

unmanageable reality. Remember that the alternative could have been to respond with

non-adaptive actions (or N-AAs), showing up as psychic breakdown, substance

abuse, addiction and, sometimes, pathological behaviour. The AA is a more functional

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defence mechanism. We do not berate ourselves, or regret creating AAs. Rather, we

celebrate them as a protective mechanism that enabled us to survive in a harsh world;

however, the saboteur is not empowerment and must be managed. If allowed to run

free, it is defensive, reactive and destructive.

The name should not be something overwhelming or frightening. I have met Gollum’s

(from The Lord of the Rings), Shreks, Eagles, Panthers, Gremlins, Mr Meanies,

Elphebas (from the stage show ‘Wicked’). There have been Pinocchio’s, Despicable

Me’s, Eye-ores, Tamagochi’s and Mogwais (from the movie ‘Gremlins’).

I explain to my clients that we love and are grateful to our dragon, but we should not

feed it. The strategy for calming the dragon is to notice when it rears its head (which

will be as soon as the AA button is pressed). We then metaphorically pat it gently on

the head and put it back in its cage. If it is difficult to put away and react unconsciously,

we do not berate ourselves for that (in that way we become the punitive parent, harsh

judge and bigoted juror to ourselves); rather we allow ourselves to feel curiosity at the

pain that is the dragon, because we know that it is merely shouting for attention. If we

don't allow the dragon to reign supreme, it gets weaker and weaker. The cocaine/AA

becomes less and less necessary for our survival. The dependence becomes less and

less compulsive and dictatorial.

In Component 10, the wisdom of Eckhart Tolle supports an understanding of how a

mere awareness of our pain will begin the process of shifting us to a higher

consciousness, which enables us to free ourselves from our conditioned beliefs.

I have seen the Truth characterised as Wise Women, Hercules, Superheroes,

Archangels, Joan of Arc, Aslan (the lion), the panther, the CEO, diamond, Nelson

Mandela. My Truth I characterise as a ‘warrior’ archetype and sometimes as an

‘adventurer’. When I am faced with a difficult situation, when my Aswang (my saboteur)

is prodded, I call on my warrior spirit to encourage me to my circle on the right

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iii. Actualising and transcending through intention

Activity 11. Power questions for Intentionality

Use these questions to guide intentionality in any area of your life.

• What do I choose?

• Who do I need to be?

• What do I need to let go of?

• How would I like to see myself ten years from now?

• Are my beliefs about myself and the world based on fact?

• What are equal and opposite beliefs that I need to embrace?

• What is my vision for myself?

• How can I stretch myself?

• What would I like to celebrate about myself in this situation?

• What will make me stand out from the crowd?

Note 10. Operationalising the principles

In this section the principles are put into practice in five key life areas: Physical health,

relationships, emotional health, performance, and spirituality.

Physical health

In my postgraduate studies in neuroleadership, I undertook a case study of a cyclist

as he embarked on a mindful approach to his physical health early on in his training

programme (Bloem, 2011). He identified the following areas as relevant to his

wellbeing: nutrition, sleep, water-intake and stretching. His goal was to have ‘a

balanced, healthy way of life’. This goal, used as an affirmation, became a mindfulness

tool to be conscious of his choices in these areas. Being intentional about his food

choices and the water he drank; paying attention to the amount and quality of his

sleep; physical stretching to keep his muscles flexible; and making mindful, healthy

life choices.

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I call a focus on physical health ‘honouring choices’. When we make good choices,

we live a life of physical wellbeing. Poor choices manifest in obesity, lethargy,

exhaustion, under-nourishment, and ‘dead-zone’ experiences. When we honour our

Truth, we honour our physical, mental and emotional well-being.

Relationships

Intentionality enables response flexibility, non-judgement and compassion and sets

boundaries. The intentional warrior recognises that:

Nothing other people do is because of you. It is because of themselves. All

people live in their own dream, in their own mind; they are in a completely

different world from the one we live in. When we take something personally,

we assume that they know what is in our world, and we try to impose our world

on their world (Ruiz, 2007, p. 48).

Ruiz reminds us that we all act in a way that is a manifestation of our conditioned

beliefs and identities and that, no matter what another’s opinion is, it is only their

opinion. Because, as humans, we are designed to assimilate our world in relation to

ourselves (Eisenberger & Lieberman, 2009; Siegel, 2012), we think that when another

says, ‘You are ugly’, that reflects me, and I become defensive. Ruiz (2007) states in

his second agreement, do not take anything personally; that is, nothing anyone ever

does is about you but rather a reflection of themselves.

Activity 12. Falling in the space

A process that enables us to be intentional and conscious of not taking things

personally.

Falling in the Space – Published in the Brainwise blog June 2017. http://www.brainwise.co.za/index.php/blog

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. With apologies to the

renowned mathematician, physicist, scientist and astronomer; I have extrapolated this

theory into the area of human interaction.

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Emotions have vibrational energy – when we experience someone as angry, resentful,

elated or in love – we can feel the energetic transfer of those emotions, sometimes

viscerally. When someone engages with us negatively, we respond emotionally. Even

if we try to ignore it by saying ‘I am not going to let this affect me’, this is still a response.

So, just like astronauts who seem to float around in space, we need to develop the

skill of minimising the gravitational attraction we have to others’ negative energy and

rather allow the freedom of freefall, that space adventurers experience, to become our

response. There is always gravitation pull, but the astronaut stays in orbit and is

weightless. Imagine staying true to your own orbit – not drawn into the angry trajectory

of the negative naysayer or the vindictive gossip.

This is an intentionally conscious focusing exercise. Imagine a light from the

atmosphere, passing through your body into the ground, centring you in your Truth.

Every person has this light. When another person attempts to shift your balance –

through negativity, or disrespect or cruelty – we need to allow the energy of that person

to ‘fall in the space’ between us. Reacting to, thinking about, even ignoring that

person’s actions or words – all provide a response, and therefore, energy to that

action. Falling in the space understands that we are only able to anchor in our Truth

and we cannot be influenced by another’s choices. We need to be at peace with not

allowing their energy to affect us in any way whatsoever.

I had a particularly difficult group of cyclists that I rode with regularly every morning. A

small group of girls had decided that I was a threat to their status in the group and

began a focused campaign to get me out. I was devastated and spent many days

exhausted and emotional as I reeled from the whip of their bullying. When I taught

myself the falling-in-the-space process, not only was I emotionally liberated from the

effects of their crusade, but they eventually left the group altogether. I have no doubt

that when I took control of my thinking and stopped responding to their destructive

barbs, they lost the motivation to put the effort into negativity. As with all The way of

the mindful warrior processes, it was not an easy task. It took courage, commitment,

self-control… And it was my choice to let their energy ‘fall in the space’.

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Emotional health

Essential mindfulness practices of meditation and paying attention to the present allow

us to disengage from a dysfunctional narrative. A practice for the mindful warrior is to

remain attentive to one’s physical, emotional and psychological states at any given

time. Being conscious of all emotional experiences and using the SOAR method to

manage emotions will guide the intentional leveraging of emotional responses.

Performance

Using mental rehearsal, goal setting and visualisation in any endeavour is a powerful

driver of success. This can apply to sport, an academic career, performing arts or

leadership; almost any area that requires challenging the comfort zone. Intentional

mindfulness allows one to consciously activate possibility and potential in all areas of

performance. When CNN interviewed Gordon Lewis Pugh, he said:

I can taste salt water in mouth, I can hear the sound of the engine … I can feel

ice burning in my skin, I can smell the sea air, I absolutely live that moment I

have swum a hundred times in my mind (Tuton, 2009).

In my case study of the cyclist, I mention that a practice for him was to remain attentive

to his physical, emotional and psychological states at any given time (on and off the

bike). An important breakthrough occurred when in the last six races in 2011, he

reported being completely present and mindful in the experience of the final bunch

sprint, an experience he described as transformational and exhilarating. He won five

out of the six races that followed (Bloem, 2011).

Spiritual

Marquez (2007) sees spirituality as a connection to something greater than us, as well

as a sense of higher meaning and purpose. The intentional attention to one’s values

(Truth), goals and needs may be seen as a means to develop a spiritual approach to

relationships, health, work or any other area of functioning.

To answer an individual’s quest for authenticity, they need to care for not only their

physical needs, but the emotional and spiritual needs as well. A spiritually evolved

individual pays intentional focus to a “well-developed sense of direction, meaning,

inner wholeness and connectedness to himself, God and others” (Verrier, 2009,

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p. 135). Swami Jitatmananda describes the essential elements to be considered in

ensuring a spiritual focus: vision, values, service and love for others, empowering

others, the courage to overcome fears, willingness to change from within, and the role

of a spiritual guide (Jitatmananda, 2007).

An individual on The way of the mindful warrior lives their values fully and with a sense

of purpose and meaning. They have connection to others and a sense of fulfilment

within a spiritual perspective.

COMMITMENT (see section 8.4.4)

i. Conscious being

Activity 13. Being in the present and letting go of ego

When you are in any negative situation:

• Observe your mind.

• Be alert to your saboteur – it is usually present when there is a negative

emotion (this is often reflected in a physiological discomfort or tension).

• Distinguish between the ‘ego voice’, and the situation, without

attachment to either.

• Choose to focus on the present moment as you let go that attachment.

• Enter the “timeless space of intense conscious presence in the Now”

(Tolle, 2005, p. 10).

• Follow up on these experiences by reflecting on your memories of events

where you have, or have not, remained conscious. Meditating and writing

about the experiences will strengthen your consciousness and prepare

you for future events.

This completes Appendix A.

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Appendix B: Language editing certificate.