What do I do now?
I stood in the middle of the floor, surrounded by ten others who were on the Fool Expression workshop. In front of me were three people, all watching me with careful, loving attention.
I couldn’t look at them.
All we had been asked — ‘invited’ — to do was move, be, and express whatever was present in the moment. Right now. There was no getting it ‘wrong’ or ‘right’.
I could hear laughter coming from the group nearby. Others seemed to be able to do it. They just got up there and started to ‘perform’, drawing amusement, empathy and interest from their audience.
Why was this so hard for me?
I could do it on my own, to some extent — when all the participants were in our own processes, walking around the room to gentle music and simply following our inner instructions of how to move and sound.
But now, in front of even the most supportive, non-judgmental audience, I was totally frozen: I couldn’t imagine what to do next. There were no genuine impulses emerging from me.
Ok. Just move with that, then, I told myself. Move and express the ‘I don’t know what to do’. …
Being creative is deeply entwined with my identity. I have been making up stories and songs since I was three, recording my own radio shows from about eight and writing novels from nine.
Enter school, in which, within a climate of bullying and ostracisation, my only source of positive identity was being good at English, reading and writing, and achieving academically. ‘Being a writer’ became something I took very seriously.
‘Fooling’ is the very opposite of taking yourself seriously.
It’s being in the spirit of play. Letting go of anything but the present moment and what wants to come through. Forgetting any agenda, goal or ‘getting somewhere’. Nothing to prove, nothing to even ‘do’.
Fooling is about dropping into the different ‘masks’, or personas, we all have and letting them express, until we see right through to what’s beneath — the core human spirit, shapeshifting and moving in archetypal ways we all share.
There were moments during that workshop where I felt in touch with something I can only describe as the edges of enlightenment.
The mystery underneath it all, that can never be put into words, only felt.
The Writer in me gave way to the Experiencer, feeling the unity of all humanity.
But right in that moment of freeze, I was aware of only what the fuck do I do here?
Every moment was agony, but I forced myself to keep going, knowing this was a safe space. I groaned, paced and rolled around on the floor. Eventually my six minutes were over.
When I rejoined them, one member of my audience shared that her perception was of a part of me fighting another part who wanted desperately to express.
It rang painfully true.
I was naturally expressive and exuberant as a young child, but it was soon squashed out of me by a suppressive school environment where my neural wiring was not understood.
At home, although my parents were supportive of my eccentricities and encouraged my creativity, abusive patterns played out as my father’s own unresolved childhood trauma found a target in me. My very ineptness and awkwardness seemed to trigger him and I got the brunt of his anger and frustration, much more than my younger sister.
I learned to button it all up and keep my impulses inside. When I let them slip, I was more often than not laughed at, rejected or outright targeted.
No wonder I now found it so impossible to ‘just express and be’. It had literally been unsafe to do so as a child and teen.
I found out I was dealing with CPTSD (Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) about 5 years ago, discovered my autism in 2021, and around the same time became clear that the ADHD (then ‘ADD’) I’d dealt with as a child who couldn’t keep still had far from disappeared —it had just morphed into some different forms.
All my creative energy, urgent for an outlet, became internalised and manifested as incessant, revolving thoughts, self-doubt, second-guessing and painful self-consciousness.
When I first heard about Fool Expression, I thought it sounded both terrifying and exciting. A guy I was dating who had done several workshops and retreats spoke highly of it. I could see how it benefited him, freeing up more self-expression and playfulness.
I have always had a playful and silly side, but it seldom showed up anywhere but with my long-term partner, or occasionally with a group of friends I felt very comfortable with. When I was offered a work exchange — my writing mentoring services for a weekend of Fool Expression from the facilitator — I went for it without letting myself think about it too much.
I knew if I did, my fear would kick in and I’d wriggle out of it in no time!
I had my breakthrough on the second day of the workshop. I had decided I was just going to go for it and let whatever wanted to happen, run its course — even if that was nothing.
It did help that I’d had a coffee that morning, a rare treat I allow myself. A ‘can-do’, confident attitude is much more accessible to my often scattered, overwhelmed ADHD brain when I’ve got this particular form of caffeine into my system.
In this particular exercise, we were to allow different ‘parts’ or archetypes within us express and have a voice as they arose. This felt more like acting, so I was able to tap into it much more easily than the more non-verbal exercises.
My frenetic workaholic part took the stage, frantically rushing from task to metaphorical task. Cue my soft, sloth-like, lying-on-the-floor part, who just wants to be cosy and do absolutely nothing.
The interchange between these two was fun to watch! But that wasn’t all.
The part of me that is as free as a butterfly, wanting to move and dance and flit from one thing to another made an appearance. I moved between these three, feeling how they were all equally valid aspects of me — and then a powerful, commanding ‘Slavedriver’ emerged.
She was not allowing any of the self-indulgence of the Sloth part. She wanted to be in control, and getting the other parts to Get Things Done was of paramount importance. Her vicious and critical words left the Sloth part cowering and made the joyful, fun-loving Butterfly Woman seem insignificant and shallow.
Regularly, I would come back to the centre, to my witnessing self — the part identified with none of these fluid characters. I noticed that I was almost afraid of the Slavedriver energy — it held so much power.
One member of my witnessing audience of three held that the Power of the Slavedriver was something they were curious to see more of. Another member said she felt protective of me with this part, wishing to see less of it.
I could recognise myself in both of these viewpoints.
There is power in that which tries to ‘shut up’ the free-floating expression, or resting and chilling, parts of me. I am intrigued by this part, and its role in protecting me from the humiliation and bullying I could receive for ‘being myself’, and which historically, I have.
Many of us who have grown up feeling profoundly ‘different’ from others, and who are trauma survivors, have a particularly pronounced inner critic. Learning to work with this consciously can have enormous benefits in freeing us up for more creative, authentic self-expression.
I have also recently had two very helpful sessions of Voice Dialogue, a therapy with strong similarities to the philosophy of Fool Expression — a framework of giving expression to different ‘parts’ within us so we can integrate them and benefit from the wisdom they all have to offer.
In the month since the Fool Expression workshop, I have noticed more space between me and the compulsive part that believes her worth derives only from achievement.
I have been more tuned into the soft underbelly of my vulnerable parts, the ones who feel tender because I’m having to pack up and move my home environment for the third time in two months, or just want to curl under the duvet and not try to ‘do business’.
I feel less attached to creativity as a product or outcome, and more curious and open to the process of it, in all its forms. I have been much more playful and expressive around my partner and have allowed myself to show levels of neurodivergent ‘randomness’ that I used to hold back.
I’m having breakthrough insights about how I want to develop my work in the world and share it with people in ways that connect — and am already noticing results in how people respond to me.
I feel that this is only the beginning of another layer of my healing and unmasking journey as I start to discover more of who I am underneath all the pretenses and defenses, and most of all, start to lighten up, enjoy and play with these different aspects.
Check out my book, ‘The Wild Wandering Arc: A Journey through Vanlife, Nature & Love’ and join me over at Wildmuse Portal to to explore a more nature-connected, creative life full of permission to be our quirky selves.