Tag: self-discovery

Problem Shared #poem

A problem shared is a problem halved,
or so the saying goes.
But whether that is really true
is debatable I suppose.

My problem had been hidden deep inside
until you called it by its name.
And that was like the whistle,
blown to start the game.

The problem that was diagnosed
affected how I lived.
It stopped me getting on with things;
it made my brain a sieve.

This problem that you helped me with
is tricky to unpack,
It means my brain keeps worrying.
I never can relax.

The problem I am grappling with
is not a sickness I contracted.
Rather, it’s part of me,
so always I’m distracted.

The problem you explored with me
in many ways defies convention.
It’s not that I don’t want to,
I just can’t control my attention.

The problem that I shared with you
for years has had me troubled.
And to be honest, since you got involved
its size has more than doubled.

It isn’t that you didn’t help
because certainly you did.
It’s just that now I’m in the game
you’ve helped me lift the lid.

The problem that was inside me
has now come bursting out.
And now I want to dance and sing
and jump and scream and even shout!

My problem shared, it hasn’t halved,
or reduced in size at all.
But now we’ve torn down all the bricks
it’s no longer a wall.

So, although my problem may have multiplied
by three or four or five.
Truly, I give thanks
because you’ve helped me come alive.

(c) Tim O’Hare, July 2023

About this poem: I was given a diagnosis of ADHD at the age of 56 in summer 2022 through a private provider called ‘Problem Shared’, and for about 9 months in late 2022 and the first half of 2023 I had roughly monthly online sessions with a prescribing nurse. These conversations were always very enjoyable (for both of us I think) and helped me to unpack some of the challenges I was experiencing and to express my thoughts and ideas on tackling those challenges, and on ADHD more generally. This poem was not intended to relate only to my interactions with the ‘Problem Shared’ organization, but I used the name as a starting point. It captures the idea that whilst my diagnosis, and subsequent treatment, has certainly generally the flow of my life a lot better, it has also opened up all kinds of additional issues and challenges.

The Wisdom of Groundhog Day – Paul Hannam #reading

I first read Paul Hannam’s ‘The Wisdom of Groundhog Day’ (TWoGD) back in October 2022. It was one of a number of occasions when I have listened to an episode of a podcast on my walk home from work and been so taken with the content being discussed that I placed an order for the book as I walked along and before I had even arrived home. In this case, the podcast episode was an interview with the author about his book from the ever excellent ‘Art of Manliness’ podcast (Episode 828: The Groundhog Day Roadmap for Changing Your Life).

In the 2.5 years that have passed since that reading, I have held a really positive memory of TWoGD. I was drawn to the way in which Hannam teases his message out of the story of the ‘Groundhog Day’ film – ostensibly just a routine comedy about a grouchy weatherman who gets stuck in a small town having to live the same day of his life again and again and again. The heart of the message is that to find happiness and fulfilment in life it is necessary to change yourself on the inside and this happiness can only arise when you are fully present and focused at all times on being true to yourself, open to experience, and appreciative of the world and the people around you. Based on this memory, I breifly mentioned TWoGD at the end of a meeting of the Book Club associated with Mike Vardy‘s Timecrafting Trust Community and with others intrigued by the idea of the book, it was chosen to be our February read.

So, I came back to TWoGD for a second reading with high hopes and also a little trepidation… What if everyone else hated the book? As I worked my way through it for a second time I found myself with very mixed feelings. I could still see, and appreciate, the cleverness that lay behind it, but I also couldn’t help feeling that it was all a bit forced – a neat idea stretched out to a length many times greater than necessary. I found that there were certain stylistic aspects about the writing that I really disliked – the way that it was written in what seemed to be a series of ‘sound bite’ paragraphs one after the other with not much flow when read together, and the fact that at every turn the example given for how such and such a principle idea had made an impact on someone was taken from Hannam’s personal experience.

As it turned out, most other members of the book club community had fairly similar issues with TWoGD as I did, but the message of the book was well received and we had a lively and interesting discussion nevertheless.

If I was going to sum up the message in TWoGD in one phrase then I think I would struggle to do better than to use the same quote that Hannam uses in the book’s conclusion, taken from the second volume of Marcel Proust’s epic ‘Remembrance of Things Past’ (1924):

‘We are not provided with wisdom, we must discover it for ourselves, after a journey through the wilderness which no one else can take for us, an effort which no one can spare us.’

Home #poem

I don’t know if it is the air:
clean and fresh like an ice-cold beer,
bubbles rising,
condensation on the glass,
enough to quench the fiercest thirst.
Because sometimes…
it’s more like warm flat ale,
the dregs of a barrel,
forced down,
because it cannot possibly go to waste.

Maybe it’s the trees:
aged beings,
firm trunks,
twisting branches,
rustling leaves –
all kinds of greens –
magic matter drawn from thin air.
Although sometimes I am not so keen…
when a dipping twig catches me in the eye,
or a gnarly root sends me sprawling to the ground.

Perhaps it is the quiet:
only the soft, gentle, companion sounds
to the peacefulness of nature’s play –
the babbling of a stream,
the stir of swaying grass,
the lowing of distant beasts.
Although sometimes…
the incessant cawing racket of jackdaws
batters my ears and interrupts my calm
far more acutely than the hum of traffic
or the playground shrieks of children.

It can also be the smells:
sweet fragrances of flowers,
fresh cut hay,
that first exhalation of dry soil
after a much-needed drink of rain.
Although sometimes…
there are certain emanations,
animal and vegetable,
that have me rushing to hold my nose.

I wonder whether it is the sky:
deep blue,
adorned with a constantly changing dance of clouds,
then fading to burning orange
before the deepest black, be-jewelled with silver stars.
But sometimes…
such vastness can be far too much,
for this brain to consume in one sitting.

It’s definitely the route:
words in the book,
lines upon the map,
places to stop for a view,
a little piece of history,
a drink
and a big piece of cake.
Although sometimes…
the wrong words have been used,
those lines have simply not been drawn in the right places,
and the much-anticipated tea shop is closed,
just because it is Wednesday.

It’s tempting to think it is the solitude:
just me and the hills and the trees and the birds
and…
and…
and…
Although, if I am really honest, I will admit that sometimes…
that can also be a state of loneliness.

In any case, it’s certainly also the companionship:
sauntering along,
side-by-side,
ahead,
behind,
talking about the world around us,
solving problems,
making plans.
Although sometimes…
you just will not walk at the right speed,
and yes, I do know that I drive you crazy
every time I stop to listen out for birds
or to take one more arty snap
with the app or the camera on my phone.

I think it could simply be the scale of it:
always as far as the eye can see
(and then beyond into the land of imagination),
stretching back through an infinitude of whens
and forward into yet more thens.
Although sometimes,
as truly awe-inspiring as that can be to consider,
I’m reminded that really there is only here and now.

So, it seems to be the all of it:
air,
trees,
quiet,
smells,
sky,
route,
solitude,
companionship,
scale.,
and more –
a little piece of all of the everything that has ever been,
regardless of whether I,
and all the others just like me,
am here to do my worst,
whilst all the time I try to do my best.
Because…
we can build things,
we can shape things,
we can sell things,
and we can waste things,
but when I take a walk outside,
away from all the stuff,
and when I allow myself to forget what I think I am,
just for a moment,
well then I am home.

(c) Tim O’Hare, June 2023

HOME: Our summer holidays tend to be based around walking in nature and I always find that this activity helps my brain to slow down and provides a great source of nourishment for my thinking. During the process of writing ‘Home’ I reflected on what it is that makes walking in nature such an important and grounding activity for me, and as I ran through various possibilities and found counterarguments for each one I came to realise that there is no single magic ingredient – it was simply that walking in nature was where I felt most at home.