Doomscrolling, doomsurfing and equanimity

There's an old science fiction film - I wish I could remember which one - that begins with a man pulling his car into a lay-by. Just as the news bulletin is about to come on the car radio, he switches stations to listen to some music. Had he stayed with the news he would have been better prepared for the impending disaster (giant meteorites, extraterrestrial aliens landing, or whatever it was.) I think this must have made a big impression on me when I was young because I always believe the responsible, sensible, grown-up thing to do is to make sure you follow the news. Earlier this year, during the national lockdown, I would watch the daily press briefings which would be broadcast just before the daily news. A double-dose of bad news. From time to time during the day more bad news alerts would trouble my mobile phone, via the BBC news app. And, if I wasn't quite sure if I'd properly understood just how bad things were, at bedtime I would catch up with News at Ten followed by Newsnight.

But, while it's good to be forewarned if today happens to be The Day the Earth Stood Still or The Day of the of the Triffids - or even if it's The Year of Covid-19 - too many news updates can be bad for you. There's a new terminology to describe a type of behaviour: you may have heard of doomscrolling or doomsurfing. The Merriam-Webster website helpfully defines the meaning as the tendency to "continue to surf or scroll through bad news, even though that news is saddening, disheartening or depressing." They suggest that, during times of crisis, many people find themselves reading continuously bad news about COVID-19, for example, without the ability to stop or step back. Because many of us doomsurf on our phones, or through our social media feeds, the term doomscrolling has been coined. But, whether it's on a computer or on a smart-phone, this compulsion to spend an excessive amount of time taking in constant predominantly bad news can naturally evoke strong negative feelings of sadness, anxiety and anger.

The Tricycle podcast (the podcast of the Buddhist Review) recently featured an interview with Sharon Salzberg, meditation teacher and author of Real Change: Meditation and Action. In the interview, Sharon makes reference to doomscrolling and suggests that we need to take a rest from relentless bad news, we need to ground ourselves and to feel anxiety or grief in a different way. She believes we also need to be able to "take in the joy, and not to be consumed by our doomscrolling habit." The interviewer, Tricycle's editor James Shaheen, put it to Sharon that finding something positive every day could be an 'antidote' to doomscrolling, but Sharon responded with caution to this suggestion: "That can sound incredibly glib, as if you're being conflict-avoidant or trying desperately to deny painful circumstances you or others are facing. But it's really not that - it's a resilience training; we need some kind of balance." She argues - and I think she's right - that we need to relate differently to suffering, with compassion rather than terror, and to not be so distracted or preoccupied that we aren't able to experience joy - or even to notice it.   

Wellbeing and Utopias

There's a bit of a fashion for dystopian fiction at the moment, even though reality is currently not only stranger than fiction (as ever) but as dystopian as you could wish for (or not wish for.) I've been very, very, very slowly writing a novel for the past few years and nearly fell into the trap myself of creating an alternative, dystopian world as a backdrop, until I thought it might be more interesting to set part of my novel in a utopian, rather than dystopian world. I'd recently read William Morris's delightful 1890 classic 'News From Nowhere' and decided to extend my research into utopias by re-reading the 'Utopia' (Thomas More's 16th century political satire), which I was supposed to have read forty years ago as part of my English degree!

 'Utopia' is one of those books which I've always meant to read (all these years, I've kept my original Penguin Classics copy from 1979) ...and now I have indeed finished it, slow reader that I am. For a book originally written in Latin and first published in 1516, I was surprised to find it both entertaining and thought-provoking.

To complete my reading on utopias, having sampled 16th century and 19th century versions, I brought things right up to date by trying Rutger Bregman's 2017 book 'Utopia for Realists'. Bregman is a Dutch journalist and author of popular books on history, philosophy, and economics. In 'Utopia for Realists' he makes the case for a more productive and equitable society based on three core ideas - a universal and unconditional basic income for everyone, a working week of fifteen hours, and open borders worldwide with the free exchange of citizens between all nations. Brexit and Covid-19 have somewhat scuppered the last of these, at least for now, but Bregman makes a compelling argument for both a guaranteed basic income and a shorter work week. In an entertaining, polemical style he argues that these are necessary and achievable cornerstones for the sustainability of a modern society and for the health and wellbeing of all its citizens.

Bregman points out that the abolition of slavery, suffrage for women and same-sex marriage were all once considered unrealistic, unreasonable and downright impossible. So, why should it not be perfectly achievable to introduce other seemingly utopian ideas? During the pandemic lockdown in the UK, once a week I observed people - including the Prime Minister - clapping in support of healthcare workers and carers. Despite this very recent and very public show of appreciation, the UK government has recently been highly selective with pay awards for health and social care staff. Generally, the lowest paid public servants - including nurses, allied health professionals and care assistants - have not yet seen that grateful applause converted into a tangible pay increase. How can political leaders so easily ignore those members of society who do the really essential work? How can government so quickly forget the debt they owe to workers who have risked their own lives caring for us and our loved ones, often for a very low salary? Bregman rather colourfully describes this situation in his book; as ever, it seems, "the bankers and the lawyers are polishing turds at the expense of waste collectors and nurses."

Bregman partly blames the 'underdog socialists' for this situation; the disempowered left have failed to make the case for a shift in societal values. He even has a go at liberal, left-wing academia: "the greatest sin of the academic left is that it has become fundamentally aristocratic, writing in bizarre jargon that makes simple matters dizzyingly complex. If you can't explain your ideal to a fairly intelligent twelve-year-old, after all, it's probably your own fault. What we need is a narrative that speaks to millions of ordinary people."

The call for a shorter working week, Bregman explains, is not about wanting long, lethargic weekends but about creating more opportunities to spend time on the things that truly matter to us. In keeping with other writers on wellbeing (including me), Bregman is arguing for more meaningful work and more time for more meaningful activity beyond work. He cites, not another aristocratic academic, but the Australian writer and songwriter Bronnie Ware. In 2011 Ware published a memoir, 'The Top Five Regrets of the Dying', based on what she had learnt from her work caring for people with terminal illness. The greatest regrets expressed by people at the end of their lives were, firstly, "I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me" and, secondly, "I wish I hadn't worked so hard."

It may seem utopian to live a life more true to oneself and to spend less time working hard. Many people, especially in times of recession, put up with jobs which lack rewards, meaning or opportunities for creativity. Of course, a shorter working week and a guaranteed basic income would facilitate these goals and Bregman is right to urge us to give these seemingly utopian ideas, and the societal structures standing in their way, serious attention.

 

Further reading

Bregman, R. (2017) Utopia for Realists: And How We Can Get There. London: Bloomsbury.

More, T. (2012) Utopia. London: Penguin Classics.

Morris, W. (1993) News from Nowhere and Other Writings. London: Penguin Classics.

Ware, B. (2019) The Top Five Regrets of the Dying: A Life Transformed by the Dearly Departing (Second Edition). London:  Hay House.

Blogging, caring, grieving

I started this blog in October 2017, in anticipation of the launch of my book 'Creativity, wellbeing and mental health practice'. The idea was to provide a forum to explore and discuss these inter-related ideas in an ongoing way, with the book as a focal point. The blog was also, to my mind at least, a companion to my other already-established blog Passengers in Time, which has now been running for ten years. If the 'Tony Gillam' blog was meant to be serious - even scholarly at times - Passengers in Time was always meant to be free-spirited and light-hearted, hence its tag-line "...Adventures with books, music and time travel." If you like, the 'Tony Gillam' blog was the respectable, high-minded blog while Passengers in Time was its fun-loving, slightly wild older brother. Passengers in Time covered a variety of topics from books that I'd been reading to books that I'd been writing, and from music I'd been listening to, to occasionally music I'd been making. Alongside these adventures with books and music has been a third thread - 'time travel', by which I suppose I've meant a blend of reminiscences, social history and real-life travel. These posts were often written in a voice that suggested they were accounts of solitary adventures but, in reality, through all of these experiences I'd been accompanied by my dear travelling companion - my beloved wife Sue.    

In October 2018, I wrote a post here on this blog called 'Working at being of good cheer again'. I explained that the summer had been a blur, "with my wife becoming unwell in July, her being diagnosed with a serious illness and then spending most of August in hospital 49 miles away." I went on to say, "She is now thankfully at home with me, but needing ongoing support and treatment." In fact, Sue had been diagnosed with a brain tumour. Thankfully, she enjoyed reasonably good health through much of 2019, and I muddled on with my occasional blog posts celebrating creativity and wellbeing, although the shadow of Sue's illness of course continued to have a significant effect on her wellbeing and that of the whole family.   

At the beginning of this year Sue's health deteriorated so that, by the time the coronavirus pandemic had forced everyone into lock-down, Sue and I had already stopped going out and about. Sue was too poorly to go anywhere and I had become a full-time carer. And then, on 25 June, Sue passed away. 

The things that normally console, comfort, energise and enthuse me: reading, listening to music, writing, songwriting and blogging, all feel like an effort at the moment, but I know they still hold the power to sustain and renew me. You may wonder why I've written such a personal blog post. Well, it's partly to explain why my posts have been even less frequent than usual. But, more importantly, it's because it would have been disingenuous, assuming I was still able to muster the ideas and enthusiasm, to go on writing blog posts about creativity and wellbeing without acknowledging the loss of Sue - something that, of course, has had a major impact on my own wellbeing. 

Sue was always very proud of my writing and I'm sure she would have wanted me to continue, so I'm going to try to go on with my blogging and other writing activities. After all, I should practice what I preach; if I believe (as I do) that writing can help promote wellbeing then, after my own recent experience of care-giving and bereavement, now is not the time for me to give up writing! So bear with me and slowly, surely, I hope to be able to continue to share with you ideas and insights that can help us all enjoy a greater sense of wellbeing through creativity.  

In memory of Sue Gillam (1965-2020).

Re-imagining creativity in lock-down

(c) 2020 Tony Gillam

Today marks the culmination of Creativity and Wellbeing Week and, by coincidence, also of Mental Health Awareness Week. Due to the coronavirus pandemic, many of the events planned had to be, in the words of the organisers, 're-imagined', which is to say either cancelled or, where possible, converted into virtual online happenings.

I had planned to run a couple of improvisational Music for Wellbeing Workshops in collaboration with mental health charity MIND but, unfortunately, these had to be cancelled as, obviously, such social gatherings are prohibited at the moment. Similarly, last month I was supposed to be giving a talk at the Literary Conference in Hastings. The topic was to be Mental Health and Wellbeing in the Books of Malcolm Saville. (Malcolm Saville - for those who don't know - was a children's author whose books I enjoyed very much when I was young and I've been a member of the Malcolm Saville Society since 1999.) So I'd been looking forward to meeting with fellow members and speaking at the Society's Literary Conference but this too was cancelled.   

Re-imagining a talk is fairly simple - it can easily be converted into an article. And so I've been working on an article - or it may even end up as a couple of linked articles - for a forthcoming issue of the Malcolm Saville Society's magazine. But re-imagining an improvisational music workshop under lock-down conditions is not so easy...

Fortunately, an opportunity arose in the form of an invitation from a dulcimer-playing friend of mine, Steve O'Ryan. I met Steve last October at a gathering of the Nonsuch Dulcimer Club (of which we're both members.) As spring arrived, Steve hit upon the wonderful idea of creating a blog and a linked Facebook group which would feature a new song for every day of the month of May, a kind of virtual musical calendar. As Steve explains, "CMLE Play (Songs for May) is releasing a different May song every day during May 2020. Trad. songs, new songs, instrumentals - mainly played and sung by keen amateur musicians." (In case you're wondering, the name CMLE Play, by the way, is a pun on Pink Floyd's song 'See Emily Play'.)

I was delighted that Steve asked me to contribute a track to this project and, not having any  traditional May songs in my repertoire, I hastily recorded a semi-improvised, one-take instrumental on the dulcimer and called my new composition 'May Be, May Be Not'. I seem to have got away with this, as the track was the featured tune on 5 May on Steve's blog and Facebook group. So I'd managed, despite the lock-down, to improvise some music and to turn this solo performance into a group experience, by sharing it on Facebook and Soundcloud.

(c) 2020 Tony Gillam

All of which goes to illustrate a few important points about creativity and how it can promote wellbeing:

1.  Connection

Connecting is one of the New Economics Foundation's recommended five actions to promote day-to-day wellbeing (Aked et al., 2008). Connecting with others is very conducive to wellbeing so, notwithstanding Groucho Marx's famous quip, it helps to belong to a few groups, clubs or societies (this could be something like a Facebook group, or even something less obvious like a literary society or a dulcimer club!) Belonging to a larger organisation also promotes a sense of meaning - one of Seligman's five elements of wellbeing - since, as Seligman argued, meaning is derived from belonging to and serving something that you believe is bigger than the self (Seligman, 2011).  

           

           

2. Flexibility

Along with risk-taking and humour, I have suggested that flexibility is one of the characteristics of a creative practitioner (Gillam, 2018). Flexibility involves a willingness to try new approaches - so a planned talk can become an article and a planned group improvisation can become a solo improvisation, shared with a wider group through social media.

3.  Collaboration

Even if writing articles and composing music in lock-down might seem the most solitary of activities, in fact collaboration with others is still central to these creative enterprises. I would not have been prompted to write my article if the conference organiser (David Shields) had not originally invited me to give my talk. If David had not subsequently - and quite rightly - decided to cancel the event, the talk might still have existed but the article might not. So any resulting articles on this subject are really a collaboration between David, me and the magazine editor. Similarly, if Steve had not invited me to contribute a piece of music to his May songs project, I might not have got round to improvising/composing/recording and sharing 'May Be, May Be Not', or of hearing the wonderful contributions of my fellow musicians. The resulting feedback - and friendly banter - I've had with my musical friends has made me laugh a lot and has felt a bit like a surrogate night out at the pub with old friends.

These kinds of connections and collaborations are invaluable as we all try to remain creative in difficult times.

References

Aked, J., Marks, N., Cordon, C. & Thompson, S. (2008). Five ways to wellbeing: The evidence. London: New Economics Foundation.

Gillam, T. (2018) Creativity, Wellbeing and Mental Health Practice, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.

Seligman, M.E.P. (2011). Flourish: A new understanding of happiness and well-being – and how to achieve them. London: Nicholas Brealey Publishing. 

Portuguese academics and real-life pirates

I know there's nothing at all romantic about the reality of piracy but my thoughts have drifted, these last few days, to Sandokan - the fictional late 19th-century pirate created by Italian author Emilio Salgari. In the mid-70s, the stories were made into a rather forgettable but charming European TV series, with dubbed dialogue and a catchy theme tune. You may wonder why, after all these years, Sandokan has bubbled up into my consciousness. It will become clear in a bit.

As the coronavirus continues to affect lives globally, I'm writing, self-isolating, at home. The effects of self-isolation on mental health and wellbeing have become a topic for daily discussion on the news and we've also seen thousands of examples of creativity in action. Musicians and actors, forced to cancel live performances, are offering online performances and tuition instead. Gin distilleries are re-purposing their equipment to produce hand-sanitiser, using the same alcohol they normally use to make gin and vodka. Recently-retired nurses and other healthcare workers are being urged to return to work for the NHS.

Meanwhile, this week I'll be very quietly celebrating the fact it's two years since the publication of my book 'Creativity, wellbeing and mental health practice'. The book may not have been a best-seller but I have the consolation of knowing it has travelled widely and has been well-received by academics and researchers across the globe. For example, I discovered, the other day, that my work had been cited by a  Portuguese academic twice in her work on nursing home care appointments for the elderly and on artistic mediation in mental health nursing. There's no law against referencing incorrectly but the researcher had cited my work as having appeared in a journal called 'Art & Science' (for which I'd never knowingly written anything.) Intrigued, I googled the errant reference and it took me to a complete eBook version of my book, freely available on a certain website. To add insult to injury, my book was not only being given away but was being passed off as the work of a Vietnamese author. I'd never heard of this author - but it's not surprising as my book is his only publication, if you see what I mean.

I contacted the commissioning editor at my publisher and I was reassured that she's passing the details on to their pirating team to investigate. So now I have visions of a gunship, hurriedly dispatched, setting a course for the South China Sea in search of a Sandokan-like character with the aim of retrieving some 'pieces of eight' for my publisher. Sadly, whether they catch the pirate or not, I won't profit from it personally but at least I might be recognised again as the rightful author. Ah, Jim lad! (Oh no - wrong pirate.)

Time to get creative as festivals all come at once

Get Creative - one of three creativity festivals happening in May 2020

The saying goes, you wait ages for a bus and then three come along at once. Well, it seems the same is true of festivals of creativity. Last Friday I was at the magnificent Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery for a creative festivals information meeting. There can't be many places where you can admire one of the world's finest selections of pre-Raphaelite paintings while waiting for a meeting to start.

I'd heard about the event through the Culture, Health and Wellbeing Alliance. The purpose of the morning was to let people know about not one but three creative festivals taking place in May 2020 and, of course, to encourage people to get involved. The collaborative partnership aims to turn May into a month of creativity and culture through the coming together of three initiatives:

• the Age of Creativity Festival: (which runs throughout May 2020)
• the Get Creative Festival: (9-17 May 2020)
•  Creativity & Wellbeing Week: (18-24 May 2020).

Damien McGlynn, Project Manager for Get Creative, spoke on behalf of all three festivals and explained what each one was about. The ambition, said Damien, is to make May 2020 a month of creativity and culture, involving a series of events across the UK, with the three linked festivals working as a collective. The festivals are supported by a range of partnership organisations including the Arts Council, Age UK, the BBC and Voluntary Arts.

The first of the three festivals is the Age of Creativity (1-31 May) - an opportunity to celebrate older people as creative audiences, participants, volunteers and artists. As Damien pointed out, the term 'older people' (as defined by Age UK) includes any individual over the age of 50. The emphasis here is on creative or cultural events that are free (or low fee) and are 'age-friendly'.

The Get Creative Festival (9-17 May) is about inclusion and aims to give everyone the chance to get actively involved in a creative event in their local area. Again, events will be free or have just a small fee to cover costs, with an emphasis on participation. As Damien made clear, "The festival doesn't programme events but acts as a major platform for events, and sometimes this means shining a spotlight on existing groups and activities."

Creativity & Wellbeing Week (18-24 May) follows on from Get Creative, and has a broad theme of 'Positive Futures' (which includes areas such as mental health and young people, public health and everyday creativity.) With a strong focus on health and wellbeing, Creativity & Wellbeing Week, like the other two festivals, supports creative and cultural activity at no cost (or a low fee to recover costs.)

More events are planned, including a launch of Creativity & Wellbeing Week at the National Portrait Gallery on 18 May and a collective event in York in 15 May, where the question "Does creativity need a public health campaign?" will be discussed. In the meantime, even if the details are not yet finalised, artists and organisers are being encouraged to begin submitting their events for inclusion on the websites of the relevant festivals.

Words of Wisdom from ...Boogie Wonderland

Wisdom is often found in unexpected places. I picked up a copy of the Independent newspaper yesterday and read an obituary for the songwriter Allee Willis (1947-2019) who died on Christmas Eve. Now, I like to pride myself on my knowledge of pop music but I'd never heard of Allee Willis. It turns out she was a Grammy award-winning songwriter who, despite not being able to read music or even play an instrument, co-wrote a string of funky, soulful hits.  She had a hand in Earth, Wind and Fire's September and Boogie Wonderland as well as the Pet Shop Boys/Dusty Springfield collaboration What Have I Done to Deserve This?  She also co-wrote songs for the Pointer Sisters and the inescapable I'll Be There for You - the Rembrandts' hit theme tune from the TV series Friends.

I've recently retired from my job as a senior lecturer in mental health nursing - one of the reasons I now have time to read newspaper obituaries. I've retired partly to spend more time with my wife and family, having learnt in the last couple of years that it's a mistake to take for granted good health as you get older. In the light of this revelation, I've also realised it's best to spend as much time as possible with the people you love the most, doing the things you enjoy the most. So here am I writing about what I choose to write about. There are few greater pleasures for me.  Writing songs is another great joy. Forty years ago I'd write a new song every week; in recent years it's been more like a new song every two years. So any lessons that can be learnt from the likes of Allee Willis are worth noting. How do you get to be a songwriter? Well, Allee Willis happened to have been born in Detroit in 1947 and had the good fortune to be able to sit outside the Motown studios in their hit-making heyday listening to the records being recorded. And that, she once said, is how she became a songwriter. 

It makes sense: the best way to become a songwriter is to listen carefully to great songs and analyse how they're made - and, of course, it helps if you've got a way with words and tunes. The same applies to all types of writer - first, read a lot of good writing, then start writing.

But what struck a chord with me most about the Allee Willis obituary was a quote with which fatalists the world over will identify: "My whole career is based on two truths," she once explained. The first of these is: "What can't possibly happen, happens." And the second is: "What should be happening, doesn't."  These are important lessons, and worth keeping in mind at those times when, as the song goes, it hasn't been your day, your week, your month or even your year.