When ‘bad’ words bring good. Meg Jackson explores foul-mouthed therapy
Y
ou do it. I do it. I bet even the
Dalai Lama, if his bare sole
(or even his bare soul, for that
matter) was to unexpectedly
come into contact with a
particularly pointy bit of Lego as he made
his way to his meditation, would mutter one
or two.
It’s a word or phrase that connects us
directly into that moment and into an
emotion. Good or bad we’re there; justBad wisdom
for a split second whether consumed by
immense pleasure, wracked with pain, or a
combination of the two.
I used to have a work colleague who
would roll off five of the best in very
quick succession, with a gorgeous Black
Country accent. Sometimes the company
you’re in may require you to make a quick
modification and “oh f....iddlesticks” is
the best you can do. Maybe you take to a
whole new language, but the effect is stillthe same.
And the best news? The next time
someone raises an eyebrow or two at your
potty-mouthed moment you can stand tall,
tell them to ‘clear’ off (ahem) because it’s
actually a spiritual practice. No. Really. It
bloody well is.
Here’s the thing; regardless of how you
do it, or say it, any expression of “oh f***
it” (or whatever your equivalent is) takes
you into a unique space. Despite what’som mind om mind