The Owl and the Chimpanzee
- devabritow
- Jun 8
- 6 min read
I had another one of those life events this past week. Soon after posting last Sunday's blog, my mom called out to my sister, Shereen, who, being busy in another part of the house, didn't hear. I went up instead, and when I found her, my mom was sitting on her bed, having trouble breathing. She'd just gotten out of the shower and was sitting wrapped in only a towel, her body still covered in droplets of water. I could see that she wasn't able to take regular breaths, and while I felt a bit of panic, instinct kicked in and I knew that I needed to maintain my composure.
We're fortunate to have access to good medical care that literally begins in the home. Mom has the St John's medical alarm in the house, so we have a direct connection to help. She wears a particular alarm when she's indoors, and it links directly to a monitoring response centre via a central unit kept in our living room. She also has one for when she's out and about, and this one acts as a mobile phone that's fitted with a GPS-like feature, so the St John's team can find her if she's out and about. Within fifteen minutes of sounding the alarm, a St John's ambulance was at our house, and Mom was attached to monitors. Another fifteen minutes later, she was taken to the hospital.
Before I continue, I would like to mention one more thing about St John's. They are a charity organisation committed to saving lives - something they have been doing for over 130 years. St John's relies on funding from the government, support from business organisations and the kindness and generosity of the public. If you'd like to donate and help them "light the way", this link will take you to their page.
So, yes, my life took a bit of a detour this week, and much of my time was spent at the hospital waiting for news from the doctors on my Mom's progress and the way forward. Tests and procedures were done, and she is thankfully out of the woods and tucked safely in her bed at home. It was all but impossible to focus on the book I intended to write about this week (Jeffrey Karp's 'LIT: Life Ignition Tools'), so, in the interest of time, I'm writing about a poem this week. It's a very good one.
The owl and the chimpanzee
By Jo Camacho
The owl and the chimpanzee went to sea
In a beautiful boat called The Mind
The owl was sensible, clever and smart
The chimp was a little behind
The owl made decisions, based on fact
And knew where to steer its ship
The chimp reacted a little too fast
And often the boat would tip
The waves would come and crash aboard
The chimp would start to cry
Large tears would roll right down his face
Afraid that he would die
The chimp and the owl would wrestle at night
When the world was quiet and still
The chimp would jump up and rock the boat
And the boat would start to fill
Then the owl stepped in and grabbed a pail
And started to empty it out
And the chimp would start to get quite cross
And would often scream and shout
The battle continued night after night
Until the chimp started to see
That if it let the owl take control
A more peaceful night it would be
I told you it was a good one. The Owl and the Chimpanzee was written by psychotherapist and clinical hypnotherapist Jo Camacho. Metaphorically, the poem presents the mind's dual characteristics: that of an owl, which represents reason, calm, and wisdom, and the chimpanzee that symbolises chaos, impulsiveness, and emotion. These two are constantly at loggerheads, especially during challenging times. The poem beautifully expresses the battle that many of us face when dealing with normal, human internal conflict. Very often, the chimp takes control, leading to turmoil and anxiety. However, there's an innate wise owl within us that's battling the chimp, trying hard to be a voice of reason during times of trouble. The insightful text teaches us that if we learn to control the chimpanzee and listen to the owl, we'll live a more peaceful life.
So, in a nutshell, the poem encourages mindfulness and self-awareness to tame overthinking and negative thought patterns.
"The Chimp Acted a Little Too Fast...
... and often the boat would tip" In any given stressful situation, my mind almost immediately conjures up the worst-case scenario, and the downward spiral that follows is virtually impossible to temper. I'm often amazed by the speed at which I can slip into a negative place once I've had a thought that is either linked to a rumination or an irrational fear about something happening in the future. It's an all-encompassing feeling - one that situates itself in my chest, my solar plexus, under my arms and in my head. It leads to shaky legs, laboured breathing, sweaty palms, an elevated heart rate and a desperate grasp for solutions when none are required. Jo Camacho so eloquently describes this self-inflicted pain and the mind's battle to overcome when he writes:
"The chimp and the owl would wrestle at night/When the world was quiet and still/The Chimp would jump up and rock the boat/And the boat would start to fill."
When I wrote earlier about tempering the downward spiral, I referred to it as a "virtually impossible" exercise. Virtually - nearly, almost - but not quite. This leaves a bit of hope even for the greatest of feats.
The shift I have seen in myself over the last few months is my tendency to want to take a step back and examine my thoughts. I try to become the observer, so I can see the true nature of the thought and/or belief, which 99% of the time is false. I may still slip into negative patterns, but I am more mindful of them, and there's a concerted effort on my part to (at least) identify negative thoughts for what they are and try to drag myself back to mindfulness and the self-awareness that I am not my thoughts.
As I was in the throes of what we came to understand was a heart attack, I was more mindful than I think I have ever been. I banished any thought of a worst-case scenario, and I took the reins. I activated her in-house alarm and shouted to my sister to talk to the St John's operator through the central alarm unit in our sitting room. With the help of my niece, Amber, I started dressing my mom and preparing her for what was going to be an ambulance trip and a stay in the hospital.
I understand logically and intellectually that my fight-or-flight response kicked in. Instead of fleeing or cowering in a corner (both of which are rooted in fear), I took control of my thoughts and emotions and opted to fight. On a fundamental level, I also understand that my approach stemmed from a place of love and care to ensure that my mom's health and well-being were at the forefront.
While writing this, I considered two things. One relates to the Brianna Wiest quote in the picture at the top of this post, and the other relates to the penultimate paragraph above. My post On Tiptoes With No Luggage, was based on the Aldous Huxley quote that ends this week's blog. It is in great part about compassion for oneself. I need to reach a point where I can direct the same love and care for my mom's well-being to myself. I've also said several times that I am a work in progress. It's funny then that I chose the Brianna Wiest quote because I am beginning to appreciate that the fractures, the perceived weaknesses and imperfections that make up (some) of who I am, are a part of my life's design. Despite these fractures, I am not broken. I am whole, even if flawed.
"It's dark because you are trying to hard. Lightly child, lightly... Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them... throw away your baggage and go forward. There are quicksands all about you... trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair. That's why you must walk so lightly... on tiptoes and no luggage... completely unencumbered."
Coming Up Next Week
I'm going to get stuck into Jeffrey Karp's LIT (Life Ignition Tools). Karp is someone I came to know via The Mel Robbins Podcast. I'm looking forward to reading his book.
#anxiety #depression #overthinking #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #mindfulness #selfcare #selfhelp #youarenotalone #thereisnostigma
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