By Lisa Browning
“Once you choose hope, anything’s possible.” – Christopher Reeve
James Buffin is a filmmaker with global experience, working across cultures, and a musician who is equally at home in coffeeshops or festival stages. He is also a survivor of childhood assault, neglect, abuse, and profound loss, as discussed in his recently released book, Reframing Trauma: Challenge Disempowerment & Claim Agency, a personal, straight-talking reflection on what it means to live with trauma and slowly reclaim your voice. For more information visit his website at www.jamesbuffin.com.
I first connected with James through The Gatehouse, a community-funded, non-profit organization located in Toronto, and dedicated to offering services and support to survivors of childhood abuse across Canada, and I am honoured to serve on a committee with James, focusing on the theme of transforming trauma into triumph. (More on that in a future article!)
As stated in some of my previous articles, I too have lived experience with trauma and abuse, and some of the most memorable healing experiences I’ve had have been in the company of horses. The horses helped me to transform my fear, self-doubt, and unresolved trauma, so that I could align with my soul’s calling.
Given those experiences, and my passion for bringing light to darkness, I thought it was a natural fit to arrange an afternoon event with James at Sierra Acres Equine-Assisted Centre in Rockwood. A Spark of Hope will take place on Saturday, September 27, from 3-5pm. In the midst of the peace and tranquility of the property, with the horses visible in the fields, this will be an intimate afternoon of connection, during which James will share some readings from his book, as well as play some original songs.
With less than a week to go, I asked James a few questions about the event itself, and the motivation behind it. Following are those questions, and James’s responses:
What motivated you to pursue music as not only a healing tool, but also as an outreach to others?
The way humans make music is unique. The tools we craft, the way we use our limbs, the sounds that come from inside of us…those are special. I saw a film recently about the producer, Brian Eno, who suggests that singing predates language. This all validates my own struggles to work with what is inside of me in order to have some sense of belonging and connection. For a long time it felt like I was on one side of a pane of glass. That pane of glass is real. But it’s a lot smaller than it felt when I was an adolescent. The short answer is music has always called me. It’s taken several decades to get to a place of joy. Now I simply love being able to express myself and take in the sense of community that music can bring.
How has this helped you in your own healing journey?
Healing in my experience is not like a teeter-totter where placing a positive at one end lifts the suffering at the other. Music to me is like a boulder falling from the sky in slow motion. It’s more of a catapult into a better future. The pain of feeling voiceless lifted gradually, over decades of pushing. In that time I was being proactive, taking lessons and at times playing publicly. But that approach wasn’t working for me. I needed the space around the songs, to talk to the audience a bit to really come home to singing. Playing at open mic events in the past two years was very beneficial. In camaraderie with others who are also being vulnerable. Again, community.
Tell us a little bit about what to expect from Saturday’s event.
People tell me they come away from the events with insights or new ways of seeing things. Often, they are deeply moved in a good way. By sharing my thoughts (and I have a lot of them), my ambition is that folks catch a glimpse of something about themselves, their situations or their loved ones that lights them up. Saturday will be a combination of speaking and playing music, followed by a discussion period. The songs are mellow, a kind of folk/blues. The songs are the ones I wrote so I could become a person who sings, after years of failing to play covers. What I’ll be talking about stands on the shoulders of the book. Out of inspiration for this event, I’ve written a lot of new content. I’m proud because it embodies the joy I am now have access to. Not to take away from the struggles. Those are real as well. So is the loss, which many of us mourn.
What is the single most important message you want the audience to take away from your presentation?
Self-compassion and curiosity can be an exquisite upward spiral. For me, living with trauma used to be filled with a sense of certainty around disempowerment: living dread. One of my mantras now is, “I love to be wrong.” Please understand that this is not to be prescriptive, or to challenge the validity of anyone’s very real suffering. Stuck is stuck. I know it. But trauma has a way of kicking you in the dreams. And as I know it, that’s trauma’s tell. My experience is that trauma hates being seen. It crumbles in the light. But it also rebuilds quickly. That’s why I need to get really good at seeing it. The faster I can get through these cycles, the more time I get to spend acting on my dreams. Remember, there is no cure. All there is to do is become adept at working with it.
What does wellness mean to you?
For a long time I felt I had to choose between my two major passions – music and filmmaking. That if I was spending time on one, I was neglecting the other. The solution is for me to create projects where I can be both composer and director. Check one box for mental health. Physical health is paramount. I am fortunate to have a gym nearby with classes all day. I spread things out between high impact, low impact and restorative. I try to get there six days a week. Being in community brings my joy. Sometimes it’s the web of loose connections I need. But the web is anchored at places with family, a core group of great friends plus the other survivors I get to meet along the way.
For more information about A Spark of Hope, or to purchase tickets, visit www.onethousandtrees.com.
