Je Ne Comprends Pas

KATIE BROWN - 15 OCT 2023

KATIE IN THE ‘JE NE COMPRENDS PAS’ T-SHIRT

“The point of diving in a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore, but to be in the lake; to luxuriate in the sensation of water: you do not work the lake out; it is an experience beyond thought.”

— John Keats, Bright Star (2009)

(Want to listen to the accompanying ‘Je ne comprends pas’ playlist while you read? Here it is)

If you are familiar with the utter delight that is French film Amélie (or Le Fabuleux Destin d’Amélie Poulain for the purists), you might recall the fabulous voyage of Amélie’s father’s garden gnome, prised secretly from his garden one night by Amélie Poulain herself, that worker of secret miracles. In the arms of Amélie’s flight attendant friend, the gnome travels around the world, his journey documented by Polaroid photos that Amélie’s father, Raphael Poulain, receives in the post.

Raphael is bewildered. First, his beloved gnome disappears, and then he reappears in photo format in the post. More, the gnome appears to be living the jet-setting and adventurous life Raphael, stoic, risk-averse, and preferring to keep his world small, controlled and therefore safe, could never be bold enough to live himself.

“Je ne comprends pas,” he mutters. “Je ne COMPRENDS pas.”

I don’t understand.

Not understanding — it’s a familiar concept. Things happen. Life happens. It often unfolds in a manner that wasn’t what you were hoping for, or expecting: if you’re like me, years pass, and suddenly you realise that you’re nearly halfway through it with none of those little societal ‘achievement’ boxes checked off (quelle horreur!). If you’re also like me, through choice or not you might have had to let go of old systems and attachments you’d held close for a long time, and found, once you’ve reemerged from the fallout, that the New Thing was not yet there to reach for. You’re a boat adrift on the ocean in some sort of strange limbo: you’re in a liminal space.

And me-oh-my is it an uncomfortable space to be in.

I think many things can trigger a shift into a liminal space — some of our own making, and some that are forced upon us: things like a relationship ending, a job loss, a health issue, a bereavement, having a child, even transitioning from study to employment, especially if it’s your first time in full-time work. Beginning a new relationship. They’re all disorienting things, things that dismantle your identity, and it takes time to reorient and rediscover yourself. And when you’re in the in-between space, it’s hard to understand the “why” of it.

Je ne comprends pas.

I don’t understand.

I’ve been in such a liminal space for much longer than I had anticipated. For a few years, really. And, not gonna lie, it’s been challenging. I finished up a master’s degree earlier this year after taking it on as a career shift at the beginning of last year, and instead of immediately shifting into a new full-time job or situation aligning with my shiny new qualification, I had a health issue crop up which has been present ever since, and have been muddling on the best I can while still hunting for said elusive job-slash-situation. There’s been a drawn-out saga of rats in the ceiling (ft. one distraught cat who could hear them but not *catch* them), some spells of severe anxiety (definitely at points rat + cat driven), and a lot of sitting on my hands being at a Bit of a Loss.

Mostly, what I have been telling myself is that I don’t know what to do — that I don’t know which way to turn. And in a manner, I don’t. Financial security is an important thing. So is trying to regain my full health, and it’s a challenge to figure out which scenario will best serve those elements. But I’m also beginning to see that there’s something bigger going on beneath it all; that there are bigger lessons to be learned. It’s a strange phenomenon, but in this particular liminal space, in the prolonged period of waiting with everything feeling as clear and calm as Auckland’s skies (sigh), I am also surprising myself by beginning to find some peace. And a different kind of clarity.

There’s a concept I have long been a proponent of called ‘negative capability’, a term coined by poet John Keats, and it relates to being able to accept the unknown, the uncomfortable, instead of having to find all of the answers. In the film Bright Star (a must-watch if you’ve never seen it), which focuses on Keats’ relationship with Fanny Brawne, Keats refers to this concept, relating to poetry:

“A poem needs understanding through the senses. The point of diving in a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore, but to be in the lake; to luxuriate in the sensation of water: you do not work the lake out; it is an experience beyond thought. Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept mystery.”

I love this idea. If life is a poem, then it’s leaving your rational, logical mind behind and allowing your heart and your senses to take over in order to understand it. Luxuriating in the sensation of being in the lake. Of being in-life. Alive. I’m a big believer that wisdom’s preferred dwelling place is in such territory — the place where intuition and joy live. It’s somewhere where you can say, “Je ne comprends pas — I don’t understand”, but also, “Just now I don’t need to understand”. It’s somewhere where just being present is both the key and the gift. It’s a sacred space, and a space that begins to connect you to your deeper, truer self. It’s a space of deep peace.

There’s an outworking to this, too. It’s all very well to speak of tidy concepts, but how do they play out in real life? How do you connect to such peace within yourself?

Lately, I’ve been discovering that it boils down to two things in particular: learning to breathe, and seeking joy.

I think everything begins with your physical state. When you’re anxious, you’re either in fight-or-flight, or a step further when you collapse internally and can’t do anything. For me, learning to calm myself has been the first step, and breathing slowly and deeply passes on the message to my nervous system to shift from fight-or-flight back into a space of calm. Tying in with this, I love the meditation in the middle of this excellent podcast episode by American life coach Martha Beck as a deep-breathing chaser — it draws me from my head into my body, and into a stillness connected with a deeper existential stillness and peace. What I’ve also noted is that this space is a much better space to make healthy, balanced decisions from, too. It’s never a good idea to try and make big life decisions from a place of deep anxiety.

(A side note: Beck has written many excellent books about connecting with yourself and your life’s ‘true north’ – she is extremely well-researched and talks a lot about the links between emotions and what’s happening physically in the body. Find some recommendations below this feature.)

The second of these elements is seeking joy.

Joy is sitting with my cat Percy, and studying his very-so-cute fluffy grey fur and the way he lies on his side and pokes his chin up so I can scratch it and make him purr his little socks off. It’s laughing at his bizarre antics. It’s having time to just rest and be still. Delighting in new growth in my garden. Going for walks. Reading a good book. Spending time with friends and family (and my also very-so-cute toddler nephew).

Joy is contagious. It’s a light; it’s hope. It is also really about following your ‘yes’.

For me, some of my ‘yes’ moments are sewing, gardening, making music and writing. When I’m doing these things, even (or especially) with no particular end in mind, they make my soul bubble with happiness. I can spend hours working away on them without realising (much to the chagrin of the long-suffering Percy, who loves it when I’m in the garden but HATES it when I’m upstairs sewing), and in the process I feel like I am connecting to the essence of who I actually am. And the other wonderful thing is that if I can make myself do one of these things — something creative, even something as simple as cooking — when anxiety is digging in its claws, it often disarms the anxiety spiral because I’ve shifted to a completely different space in my brain.

These things are healing, and they’re also energising.

The interesting thing is that as these creative pursuits energise me, more ‘yes’ things crop up: it’s like a little unfolding map, taking a step forward, then another, and another. It takes courage to keep moving forward into the unfolding map when I can’t see what’s ahead. Sometimes I just turn around and go back to known — safe — territory, but ultimately, I know that seeking my own joy can only lead to good, because joy comes from a very good source: it’s the hand of the universe held out to take in faith. And the beauty of faith is that it can only come from a space of uncertainty: it activates when you let go of your need for control. It is negative capability.

So. In my particular in-between space I don’t know what’s next, and I don’t understand everything that is happening nor why my body is taking so long to heal, but I can step forward into my little ‘yes’ moments and trust that they will take me to a good place. In the process, I’m meeting myself anew after some old elements of my identity have been dismantled, and it’s a sacred and healing space to be in. A life sabbatical, of sorts.

I’m like Raphael Poulain: the ‘yes’ moments are the mysterious gnome-polaroids sent to me in the post that tease me of a future that’s a very different shape than the one I fear I’m headed towards, and they’re made of essential parts of myself I am learning to treasure rather than roll my eyes at (helloooo my irrepressible earnestness!). And, like Raphael Poulain, I’m going to pack up my little suitcase and set off in pursuit of that hope-filled future.

Cool.

★

P.S: If you would like, you can also wear a “Je ne comprends pas” t-shirt like mine (see below): these are printed to order, and rad to wear! You can buy either a unisex shape (longer), or the women’s cut, which is a little shorter. Email katie@themaymagazine.com to enquire.

P.P.S: I also made a nice long-playing “Je ne comprends pas” Spotify playlist, which is packed with all sorts of wonderful little numbers. I hope it will take you through some special days.

P.P.P.S: I’ve included some book and resource recommendations below - these are my tried-and-trues for coming back to centre.

Here’s to not understanding but still being okay! And if you’re not feeling okay, I’m sending warmth and gentle thoughts your way. We will all get there in the end x

Resource recommendations:

Finding Your Own North Star - Martha Beck (book): an excellent book about learning to read your internal compasses and how to find your way into a life where you’re living from your essence.

Steering By Starlight - Martha Beck (book): a great follow-up to the above that will help keep you on track (excellent on its own too).

The Artist’s Way - Julia Cameron (book): a 12-week creative recovery programme (you work through a chapter a week, and it’s brilliant at getting rid of creative/life blocks!).

Anam Cara - John O’Donohue (book): a beautiful, poetic book based on Celtic wisdom that discusses the idea of a ‘soul friend’ — it is wonderful for deeply connecting with yourself and others.

The Gathering Pod: a podcast by Martha Beck where she discusses spirituality and personal growth topics.

Yoga With Adriene Monthly Calendar: Adriene is the sweetest person to do yoga virtually with — if you have never come across her before, you’re in for a treat! Great for beginners (like me). She has a monthly calendar of different yoga practices to work through every day (hosted on YouTube) - super handy.

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