In the process of practising self-compassion, we can go through different stages. It is perhaps wiser not to think of these as successive stages, but rather as the strands of a multi-branch braid: which strand is being bent at any given moment, but each strand is needed again and again to complete the braid. Or we can think of them as a spiral, going up the threads of which: on the one hand, we always seem to return to the same place, but on the other hand, it is true that we are already in the next thread. Another image to express how these stages relate to each other and how they appear in the adventurous journey of practising self-compassion is the image of polyphonic music. We hear all the parts at the same time, yet at a given moment in time, one or other of them may stand out, louder than the others, or the others may only play a few chords as accompaniment. Then the roles change, and another solo comes into focus.

These images help to avoid the danger of looking at the practice of self-compassion as a performance tour, or as a journey with defined stages and ranks.

Practising self-compassion develops our green system, but if we see it as an achievement, if we are measuring where we are at, comparing ourselves to others, where we think they are, worrying about when we will get further, or even worrying that we will inevitably experience the painful parts of the journey, then we are turning on our blue and red systems. That way they will have the opposite effect to what we want, to what we need.

One of these, almost immediately noticeable part, is an aversion to the practice of self-compassion. Many of us may need to transcend a resistance that stems both from within ourselves personally and from our culture. Voices such as "I'm not used to be attentive to myself", "we're not used to being nice to ourselves", "how repulsive it is to stroke myself, to hug myself", "let others be nice to me, I'll be nice to others", "this is mere self-obsession, self-deception, a drug".

When we can allow these voices without listening to them, slowly, slowly, tenderness and kindness towards ourselves shines through. Our enthusiasm grows, we realize what a powerful tool we have found. It is like a time of love. 

We realise that we can at least partially satisfy our own need for love and tenderness. We open ourselves with increasing confidence to the pleasant emotions that arise and overwhelm us in the practice of self-compassion. We develop an attachment to these pleasant emotions and begin to long to feel them all the time.

This desire is natural, healthy, comes from wishing ourselves well. Yet, this way of seeking the "good" leads to disappointment. So far, we have sat down to practice self-compassion in order to allow ourselves to suffer and to tenderly embrace ourselves who suffer. The pleasant emotions that emerge during these practices have not replaced the unpleasant ones, but have surrounded them, giving them space to transform themselves. But in this new voice, other voices emerge within us, prompting us to do the exercises with the intention of eliminating our unpleasant emotions. If we feel anxiety, loneliness, anger, sadness, we sit down to do a self-compassion meditation and wait for these emotions to disappear as soon as possible. In this way our practices become a hidden resistance to our reality, and the resistance instead of decreasing, it increases our suffering.

This voice will be silenced when we are able to listen to another voice that says: "when we suffer, we are not compassionate because we want to feel better, but because we feel bad". Our motivation is cleansed, we no longer want to use self-compassion as a painkiller, and paradoxically this leads us to the point where - although differently than we thought - self-compassion will again soothe our pain, embracing it with tenderness.

As we become deeper in the practice of self-compassion, we will discover a new voice. Some people have this voice more or less strongly present from the first moment they start the practice. The English literature describes it as a backdraft phenomenon. Backdraft is the term used by firefighters to describe the phenomenon of a suppressed fire that has been left without oxygen bursting when it suddenly gets a breath of fresh air.

Throughout our lives, we can accumulate a lot of suffering. In order to move on, we suppress them, and they linger like smothered embers in the depths of our being. When the fresh air of self-compassion touches these many painful memories lying dormant within us, the pain suddenly flares up in us in a totally unexpected way. Experiences of tenderness towards ourselves bring up those painful memories when we have not experienced this acceptance.

If this is the key part which is playing the main role in the process of learning self-compassion, it is important to realize that the pain we experience is not caused by self-compassion practices. We are not doing anything wrong, we are experiencing a sign that we are doing the exercises well, the door of our heart begins to open and all that needs to heal within us begins to show itself. The phenomenon of backdraft assures us that the healing process has begun.

The signs of backdraft are: on the emotional plane, shame, grief, fear, sadness, shame, vulnerability; on the thought plane, inner voices such as "I am alone", "I am a failure", "I am worthless"; on the physical plane, bodily memories, pain, unpleasant body sensations in different parts of our body.

These unpleasant experiences often "appear out of nowhere" in the process of practicing self-compassion, we don't understand what is happening. We may then try many things to avoid feeling them, we may "go back to our head" rationalising them, we may feel anxious, we may criticise others or ourselves.

It's important to keep ourselves from being overwhelmed by the discomfort of the backdraft, but at the same time allow the door of our heart to slowly open. 

It is in listening to this "voice" that we most need self-compassion, a very deep inner wisdom that asks what we need here and now to feel safe. We are seeking a delicate balance: on the one hand, we need to protect ourselves from overwhelm, and on the other hand, in order to heal, we need to allow ourselves to suffer, because only the wound can heal, which with its painfulness can enter the space of compassion, to be surrounded by tenderness.

If we persevere in the practice, sooner or later we will find that our previously unimaginable wounds begin to heal, our inner barriers begin to break down, and we can experience more and more pleasant feelings towards ourselves spontaneously. This healing will affect our daily activities and relationships. Slowly but surely, we are radically changed.

It is important to remember that progress is not linear. We return to the stages again and again, hearing the voices we already know. Over time, we become more confident in allowing ourselves to move into the painful stages, and more comfortable in the stages of intimacy and tenderness with ourselves. Our confidence grows that no matter what happens inside us, we can embrace ourselves with a tender love. And it is in this embrace that our deepest and truest healing happens.

With childlike curiosity, I can observe which voice I hear more strongly, which one plays the leading role in me?