Perhaps you know the song by Pink Floyd: “comfortably numb.” On my way home from a gathering, I was talking with a friend of mine about our personal journeys, visions, and longings. We both shared the dream to find the ability to both express ourselves authentically—beyond the self-imposed limits of social norms—and yet remain part of the society.
My friend is also a music nerd, and she named the title of that song and played it. I’ve never been a particular groupie of Pink Floyd and did not know the lyrics. Comfortably numb, to me, sounded like a spot-on phrase to capture the easiness with which one can just continue to live life “as usual”, staying in the comfort zone of the familiar and, consequently, shutting down—or at least greatly quieting—the inner voice that longs for an experience of profound aliveness. This voice could, potentially, lead to unleashing one’s unique creative expression which, as exciting as it might be, scares us to the bones; hence, the numbing instead.
One part of the song particularly talked to me:
I have become comfortably numb”
I am sure you too know the feeling. A few times in your life, you must have gotten in touch with an unparalleled excitement about a dream or a vision but, perhaps just as quick, an inner or outer voice suddenly came and successfully shushed it, arguing for how impossible, hopeless or unrealistic your dream might have been. Whether a creative project, relationship, sexual orientation, or drive to study a particular topic, there are probably a few leads coming from deep within you that you haven’t followed. If that is the case, know that you are not alone. I am definitely here with you and I know many others who also are.
I love how the words “child,” “glimpse,” “cannot put my finger on it,” “grown,” and “gone” all dance together in the song. They all capture the fast-moving nature of the revelation of a dream, a heart-felt sankalpa (Sanskit for a thought that does not yet exist), as well as of the pace with which it dissipates and can thus easily passed unnoticed. I also love how they point out that such an inner calling often emerges in childhood, that is during a stage in life where imagination still is untamed and where we live relatively free from the overwhelming pressure of external, shutting down influences.
What did you dream of as a child?
Although it might feel “gone” and you have “grown,” would you reconnect to the short “glimpse” of a vision, free from any mental hinderances and apparent limits?
Of course, it is not easy. My intention here is certainly not to lift regrets for a life not lived. In fact, differently from the suggested tone in the song, I do not believe anything is “gone” but, instead, that the potential to live it out is still intact. The work necessary to go through the heavier weight of mental and norm blocks, nonetheless, has just become a little bigger.
What interests me, instead, is what we can do to reconnect to the similar state of openness, curiosity, imagination, and unbounded wonder we all know from childhood—however long this might have lasted or not.
Moreover, I want to know the mechanism through which something inside me chose to numb and hold back, not to analyze, pathologize or anything like it, but rather to flip the pattern upside down and do something different instead. For example, when I feel an impulse or inspiration to pursue something that feels alive, however small or disrupting it might be, and I hear a “no” inside my head almost instantaneously, I try to pause, and take a step towards it anyway. Without trespassing over my own boundaries, I choose to challenge myself and do the thing that is slightly “uncomfortable” and makes me feel anything but “numb.” Again, any small step in the, let’s call it, aliveness direction (as opposed to a numb state) here can count.
First, leaving my hometown and then France behind for a while and plunging myself into new cultures definitely shook up my comfort zone. Later on, leaving academia and stepping “publicly” out as an alternative coach and yoga teacher disturbed my sense of identity and inner norm-conformist (no matter how big the public, it is always scary!). Even today, challenging the norms of what it means to me to live life, for example, at the relationship/romantic level or at a professional/creative plane is still far from easy. Engaging in the difficult conversation, how my favorite poet David Whyte names it, is not supposed to be easy. Actually, the challenge (or even the necessary shyness, as Whyte puts it) testifies that you are on the right path—at least in the aliveness direction.
Stepping up and be yourself, whether it is being the only vegan of the family; taking time for a solo retreat each year; suddenly coming out bisexual, polyamory, or gay; leaving your well-paid job and stable career path to travel the world; or moving from city life to the countryside—or anything else that is authentic to you now—will undeniably disturb not only you but especially others around you. Challenging the status quo and the drive to stay “comfortably numb” in you will disrupt others’ longing to do the same—and thus their resistance and fear to take the courageous step you are taking. This is where, I find, a practice that works for you AND a community of like-minded folks who can support you, even if just one or two friends, are crucial assets. Community gives support and the love we need. A practice, on itself, cultivates the friendliness with silence, with presence and in general increase our comfort with spaciousness and not knowing; qualities that undeniably belong and connect to the deeper sense of aliveness we long to touch again.
So, dear friend, take a moment with me.
Just pause and appreciate who you have become, no matter the mental judgement about it, independently from the steps you took or did not take yet. From that place of appreciation, simply allow yourself to open to even just the willingness to reconnect to a state of childhood wonder inside you.
Let it guide you. Write down or sit with a trusted one and share about what felt alive when you were a kid…
And, what feels alive today?
Love,
Cédric
