About Anam Alba
Anam Alba – reclaiming tenderness and joy
“I listen to your story and I know, where I need to start, where I need to go.”
These lyrics come from The Little Iceberg Musical, written and composed by Siobhan Argyle, and adapted from the children’s book published by connected baby Ltd.
The inspiration came from the beautiful illustration on the front cover and at the end of the one week that it took to write and compose the musical version Siobhan told me,
“This is the first piece of music that I have written from a place of joy.”
For those who knew us, this statement might have seemed surprising. This was January 2021; our dad had died in November 2020, during the second lockdown. We were one family among thousands who had a loved one in a care home coping with isolation, declining health, separated from all the usual personal contact.
It was a desperately difficult time, negotiating the changing restrictions and the never-ending anxiety. Dad’s life had been shaped by early loss and separation, chronic illness, and he was also blind. Like many others we took to standing outside his window and because he could not see, we sang. Music notes and old worn lyrics carried our feelings and memories back and forth touching our hearts while our hands were on opposite sides of the glass.
We were lucky. We found enough acceptance, creativity, and compassion to cradle the sorrow tenderly and somehow in that grief we found unexpected moments of joy.
Anam Alba grew out of a response to loneliness, and the unfolding of the relationships that were made during those attempts have shaped the vision that we have going forward.
A tender spot
Imagine for a moment.
You have a pain in your body. It is not there all the time, you can carry on and function well if it is not touched. In fact, the busier you are, the less you pay attention to it. You really feel fine. You can adapt, but make sure that you do not bump it. You are not going to let anyone look at it though, because they would need to palpate the area and ask you questions about the kind of sore it is and where the pain is felt. They will need to examine you to diagnose and treat it. You might be afraid of what you will hear.
What conditions would you need to find the courage to share your pain and ask for help? Who would you trust and where would you go? Very few of us are willing to face the vulnerability and truth of our pain unless completely assured of reliable care.
Before the pandemic, many people were already nursing wounds of loneliness, overwhelmingness, and hardship. There were already tender spots in our society, many aspects of family and community life were strained and our systems weighed down by increasing regulation and unforgiving scarcity.
COVID-19 rode roughshod over these wounds without consideration for our pride or agency. Lockdown prodded at them mercilessly, unconcerned by the terror that lay behind them or the pain that it would exacerbate. Now the hurts are not only exposed but inflamed. Lockdown and all that went with it left those wounds fiery and sore, our hearts smarting with injustice, humiliation, and grief.
A conscious choice
Anam Alba decided to choose a way of being. The pandemic brought pain, much of it unremitting and still reverberating. But it also became the fulcrum around which an outpouring of compassion swirled. As humans, we are gifted with the incredible capacity of being able to look beyond our own pain to reach out and alleviate pain for others. We do not want to let that go, and five years later we are confronted with more loneliness and unresolved grief. We do not think that we should let it go.
The orientation to tenderness is one that we have chosen in conscious awareness. Tenderness has the capacity to hold the raw, painful truth that life is hard. An acknowledgment of the reality but with the touch of a healer who promises to approach and palpate the pain with deep care and with a view to resolving it. Trust is built and the patient tentatively lifts the edge of their garment, willing to be examined. Tenderness is aware in advance of the adaptations needed to elicit engagement and it is attuned to the ebb and flow of courage.
A tender approach to life ensures an environment and attitude that will beget compassion, consideration, understanding, non-judgment, patience, creativity, support, companionship, ongoing presence, and resolute commitment. It is forgiving and seeks to say, ‘Let me help lift this pain from you.’
Tenderness in and of itself will not heal the pain, but it will change our relationship to how we treat what is sore, what cannot be changed and what needs treatment and aftercare.
Create and play
There is gravity in tenderness and there is playfulness in joy. We need both. Playfulness gifts us gratitude. In savouring small joys, we save ourselves from helplessness and despair. The choice to welcome what is life-giving, to invite in play, laughter and companionship softens us and makes space for creativity. It allows for the unfurling of new ways to tend to ourselves and each other.
Creativity is the mirror that we need to reflect medusa. When sorrow or joy are overwhelming, art transcends all our rational faculties and connects us to both the vast heavens and the damp, dark earth. Our deepest desires, wishes, loves, and losses are suddenly within reach and there is the opportunity to feel into the body that has been the faithful custodian of our stories.
The expression of our inner world matters, recreating the stories that we have embodied, challenging how we think, and stretching our hearts to discover of what they are capable. We will remain lonely if we do not get the chance to tell our stories. We will remain lonely if we do not get the chance to share our stories.
Gathering worth
Over the last five years, what category of people do we encounter most? Forgotten people. Across all the usual tick boxes of definition we meet people who have been left alone to carry heavy burdens without the chance to tell anyone their story.
We have hacked away foolishly at the roots of community and creativity forgetting that purpose and worth lie in everyday connections and that which is ordinary is also unique, worthy, and indispensable.
How many people have the chance to play, to try something new, to contribute? Creativity forges connection, yielding moments of meeting that cannot unhappen.
It should not be radical to suggest that we show ourselves mercy; no one wants the chaos we are living in now. We are creators, every day, whether we like it or not. We are worth the creation of conditions that are conducive to healing, to the well-being of our whole selves, radiant and flourishing.
Companions in joy
Creativity brings us to life; It taps into our deepest longing – to Be. To Be heard, to Be seen, to Be wanted, to Be valued, to Be worthy, to Be cherished. This is what we were made for, when our longing to Be is sated, we rejoice in Being with each other.
Anam Alba believes that if there are enough of us that long to Be and do so with tenderness and joy in the companionship of one another, we will without effort or merit, Belong.
‘Connected altogether in calm or stormy weather, let the happy shine out, let the happy shine out, let the happy shine out of me and you.’ (The Little Iceberg Musical)
See the full article here: https://bylines.scot/society/anam-alba-reclaiming-tenderness-and-joy/