The Reward is the Journey

I am an outdoor swim enthusiast.  I swim year-round.  Without a wetsuit.  My second home is the water.  I spend a lot of time in its wonderful embrace, be it the English Channel or a vast outdoor (and, importantly, unheated) pool in South London. Swimming is a passion.  But why I swim is about so much more than exercise.  Fresh air and daylight are vital to my wellbeing. A holiday some time ago 'down under' was a swim fest.  Beyond my wildest dreams.  I had read about the beaches, and the pools.  But I got so much more than I bargained for.  I found lakes and reservoirs.  I found peaceful private swimming.  It was joyful.  In the extreme.   A swim is capable of curing so much.  Jet lag for starters.  Fatigue.  Heartbreak.  Disappointment.   The water has yet to let me down.  I take myself to the water.  I find my self in the water. I am a creature of habit. ...

I wake up.  It's Saturday.  And she's not here to share the weekend that has yet to happen. This is now a familiar tape that has been playing out most weekends since September.  There have, of course, been exceptions.  The weekends that I've been away.  Those weekends on which I've had work commitments which have taken me out of London.  The break I spent on the other side of the world over New Year.  These times have felt different.  Saturday mornings in London don't yet feel quite right. Something occurs to me.  I think to call her.  I reach for my phone, but before I do, I remember.  Again.  And again.  Her number is no longer available.   I am briefly and repeatedly disorientated.  It feels unfair.  It isn't.  Life isn't.   I am adjusting.  Grief is a process.  A process that is unfolding.  Sometimes quickly.  Often slowly.  I have no say as to its pace...

The present moment is the only moment available to us,  and it is the door to all moments.   ~ Thich Nhat Hanh Teaching mindfulness always gives me more than it takes.  Whilst I may fret about the preparation of a class or workshop, once it's under way, the rewards are mine for the taking.   Practising alongside others is always a pleasure, and never more so than when I find myself guiding a group, some of whom may be meeting the practice for the first time.   Yesterday's workshop was no exception.  A group of us gathered and got onto mats with blocks and bolsters (and, in some cases, chairs) and practised mindfulness together - first sitting, then walking, before doing some more mindful movement in the form of long held yin yoga poses, concluding our two hours together with a seated reflection.   Whilst a few faces were familiar, many of us were meeting for the first time.  Curiosity and open mindedness were our friends as we...

I suspect it might well be the first and last time that Lady Gaga will be played at the crematorium.  Charlotte's funeral was always going to be a memorable occasion.  I will never forget our final goodbye, close to the river that she loved so much, and accompanied by 'Bad Romance' played, we all agreed, at an appropriate volume and, pleasingly, in its entirety.    Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more day by day You tell me of our future that you plann'd: Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you sho...

And so, she is gone.  We have said goodbye to one another in this life.  Sitting beside her in hospital with lines trailing from both her hands, I realised that all that needed to be said had been said.   Death gives clarity to life.  Suddenly all is so wonderfully clear.  Meaning, purpose and passion are everything. Charlotte has always shown me what it is that really matters.  These are the lessons I get to keep for life:  Do what matters.  Every day.  Forget everything else. Life's too short to rush through it.  Pause awhile to stand in the awe of its beauty and get to know those spirits who make the world a beautiful place. I have had the great privilege of getting to know one such woman. Hours after she passed away, swimming came naturally.  Her effortless grace got me to the poolside far earlier that morning than normal.  The water was peaceful and calm.  Those within it, perhaps less so. ...

And so, chemo is over.  My best friend's diary has been chocker...  Line cleans, blood tests, scans and 18 weekly doses of the gruelling treatment itself.  Summer seems at last to have arrived and with it, we hope, some time, peace and space. She is, we acknowledged over a rather yummy luncheon served to us beneath the beautiful canopy of creepers and climbers at Petersham Nurseries, an inspiration. A small group of us gathered to celebrate her forthcoming marriage.  The sun's rays joined the warmth we all have for this very special woman.  Warmth and, in my case at least, pride. It is the greatest privilege to call this woman my best friend.  She continues to epitomise my understanding of grace.  Our bodies are fragile things.  Our minds are frailer still.  In her composure and wisdom, she possesses an outlook I can only aspire to adopt.  From you, dear Charlotte, I learn and I learn and I learn.   The ...

This time of year brings everyone together.  And we congregate at the Pool.  Some of us lie outstretched, towels upon concrete, others dip toes into the water whilst sipping something cool (soft drinks only, though) whilst others of us do what we do all year-round. Summer swimming is both a pleasure and a privilege.  But it involves the recruitment of some different qualities to those practised in the cold, dark winter months:  as the weather gets warmer tolerance and equanimity are the order of the day. It came up in conversation earlier today and she was of course right:  there is space for everybody.  Plenty, in fact. Yet, somewhere between June and July, something changes; suddenly it somehow feel like it comes at a premium.  Letting go of expectations and taking an open mind with me into the water is always helpful.  I'm not there to prove anything.  I'm just getting on with it, and getting another swim in.  I tend to get...

At school, I was hopeless at physics.  I have a younger sister whose aptitude for the mathematical sciences shone bright and quickly eclipsed my own.  We've both grown up.  School grades and exam marks matter very little to either of us now.  Today she uses her talents for the benefits of her patients.  And I endeavour to use my own for those I work with. Physics notwithstanding, I was ever an enthusiastic learner.  And in this respect, I am well suited to my profession.  As a therapist, it is both a pleasure and a duty to continue to learn.  Einstein is said to have been the first to say that the more we learn, the less we know.  This is certainly my experience.  And, in the therapy room at least, not knowing is important.   What know what we are but not what we may be.    ~ Ophelia, in Hamlet My clients are my teachers, as well as their own.  Whilst I have skills, and training at my disposal, I am anyth...

The sun had put its hat on. And it was as though everyone came out to play. The Lido was hectic. I'm not sure why this took me by surprise. It was the first Saturday morning that the temperature could lure out even the most part time of swimmers. I am anything but a part time aquatic enthusiast. But I mistimed this swim by a mile. As I surveyed the chaos, two other regulars (already sensibly swum out) greeted me and we remarked upon the influx of wetsuit clad 'seals' who have most likely only now emerged from warmer climes (indoor heated pools).  I almost talked myself out of the swim. I'm so glad I didn't; I exited the chatter rather abruptly and quickly got changed. Before getting in, I checked in with a friendly lifeguard I have come to know over the less clement months during which I've swum length after length, week in week out. She observed how little 'etiquette' was on display in the water, and I resolved to simply see how it wen...

Cancer has no respect.  She cares not at all about plans or dreams. She barges in whenever she pleases and takes pleasure in doing so with only the minimum of warning.   She has made her presence known once more... This patient knows her body well.  The unwelcome warning signs were recognised and acted upon.  Fast.  There is an action plan.  Boom. Cancer doesn't like a plan.  Cancer is disorganised and chaotic.  This patient has resources aplenty.  Cancer is to be pushed to the max, and hopefully zapped into the middle distance.  

Cancer doesn't play by the rules.  She plays dirty.  She defies those things that feel to make sense.  She arrives as if from nowhere and demands to be seen.  She can only be taken seriously.  She shouts loudly drowning out any protestations and sets the agenda.  She refuses to negotiate and drives the hardest bargain. And so a new phase is entered.  Not a door anyone would wish to open, but one through which countless souls have travelled before us.  Across the threshold friendly faces, armed with expert knowledge await.  Paclitaxel administered weekly is the weaponry with which this battle will be fought.   Also known by its brand name Taxol, paclitaxel is a potent cancer-fighting drug originally derived from the bark of the Pacific yew tree (Taxus brevifolia nutt), a small to medium-sized tree that occupies Pacific coastal forests from southwestern Alaska to California.   Development of Paclitaxel started...

Anxiety is on the up.  It makes appearances ever more regularly amongst my clients/patients.*  It comes in different guises:  sometimes attaching itself to certain triggers, at other times preferring to float more freely. Anxiety is troublesome.  It demands attention yet does not like to be examined.  Anxiety does not always make sense.  There is often little value in seeking to ascertain its aetiology as, regularly, there will not be an obvious cause-and-effect in action. First things first.  Anxiety needs to be put in its place.  Therapy can be extremely helpful in right-sizing panic when anxiety has become unmanageable.   As a therapist supporting those for whom anxiety has got out of control, it is useful for me to understand what seems to be triggering anxious symptoms and how the individual experiences these.  No two anxiety presentations are identical, but there are patterns and traits I have become all...

I did not hesitate to heartily and heart-fully congratulated a parent who had contacted me to discuss support they might offer their primary school aged child who 'wants to be different' when they told me that they had sought to explain in no uncertain terms that their love is unconditional. In the midst of their angst about what they might do for the best in the situation which they felt was becoming increasingly urgent, my reassurance seemed not only highly appropriate but hugely valuable. My hope is that we are slowly, but hopefully steadily, moving away from a gender binary that demands conformity amongst children who wish to explore their gender identity and expression. I work with adults and young people.  I have colleagues who work with children.  It is a pleasure and a privilege to be able to refer potential clients to colleagues who, like me, practice in and around London.  At present, I am sadly less well placed to signpost more widely. ...

The Tube is being made fit for the future .  Or so we are being told...  People are being replaced by machines.  And the windows through which we used to interact are being bricked up.  The memory of dialogue is being erased.  To be forgotten forever? As someone who commutes, sometimes on two wheels, sometimes on public transport the implications of the closing ticket offices have struck me as significant - quite apart from the deletion of aesthetic pleasures and architectural archive are we not at risk of losing touch with an important facet of travel?   It occurs to me that many a journey is influenced and informed by a valuable engagement which may take place only briefly but which enables the person anticipating the journey to touch base and confirm their path with someone whom they imagine (rightly or wrongly) knows better. This casual but perhaps vital double checking would, more often than not, take place implicitly, seamlessly, ...

My body tells me it is unhappy.  Physically, 2016 does not feel to have got off to the best start for me...   I have been plagued by several bugs which feel to have got me in their grips one after the other.  Or perhaps I have failed to shake off the original which has lurked within my system. We are beyond honey and lemon.  I have exhausted my supplies of Echinacea drops and Manuka honey.   Paracetamol, ibuprofen and decongestant have all been surrendered to.  And now antibiotics have been introduced to the mix.  I must confess to feeling somewhat self piteous.  In all likelihood I have a chest infection.  I only hope it will respond to the prescribed penicillin. As my GP efficiently signed the script that had only just emerged from the printer, we discussed how long I was to consider myself 'signed off' for.   As a self employed practitioner I have nobody to give my sick note to, but my doctor knows that its best...

The trailer promised great things.  Eddie Redmayne for one.  His performance as Lili Elbe (born Einar Wegener) was masterful.  Set in 1920s Copenhagen, I wonder how much things have really changed?  I felt the film portrayed very accurately the awful cost born by so many of the trans* community as they navigate worlds in which they feel bound to conceal their true selves beneath constructed identities.   As a therapist who specialises in working with gender issues I have the privilege of supporting gender variant, queer and querying clients who do not fit neatly into the boxes so many quarters of society still seek to prescribe.   To speak of the challenges this presents hardly does justice to the daily battles being fought that the cisgender majority are unlikely to ever face.  Unless of course, that cis individual is in a relationship with a trans* person...   This was, for me, what the film spoke to most directly observ...

I have had a cold since Boxing Day. Having been celebrating my apparently indestructible immune system in the lead up to Christmas, I fell at the first hurdle and have been limping ever since.  My friend and colleague Sarah tripped on New Year's Eve and fractured her fifth metatarsal.  Our workshop could not be better timed... 'Shattered but still whole' has been something of a mantra for me at different times:  the challenges life throws at us can often feel to shatter the bodymind, mindfulness has helped me to remain connected to a sense of wholeness, come what may. The opportunity to practice alongside others is always a privilege.  Yesterday's workshop which we had given the title 'Let it Begin with Me' at the dawn of the new year was a particular pleasure, and I enjoyed the opportunity to reflect on what we do when we set our intentions - both for our practice and beyond. Intentions, like seeds, are what we plant, in the service of an eventual yi...

Birthdays are important.  Mine included.  Tho' it falls precariously between Christmas and New Year in recent years I have thrown caution to the wind and marked this thing called the ageing process on or close to the day itself trusting that whomsoever should be there will be there. And so it was this year...  I celebrated my birthday amongst family and friends.  It was a lovely evening during which we shared good food, yummy cakes, and laughter.  Sitting around a large oval table were 18 very important people, each of whom has played a significant part in making the last year a special one. When seeking to gather a group for such a purpose, one must be wise to the fact that life happens and plans change:  I was not to know exactly how many people would be attending until the day, and that was fine.  There are things that merit worrying about.  This was never to be one of them.  For things, I have found, more often than not, work ...

And the day finally arrived.  We had been to meet them the day before, but there could be no preparation for the feelings that followed.  Anticipation.  Excitement.  Nausea.  Impulse buys are strange things.  They can go one of two ways.  Time will tell.   There was a concentrated atmosphere around the hall.  An unconcealed competition.  A rivalry.  It felt risky.  Edgy.  Unnerving. I could hear the adrenaline building.  Slowly, but surely.  As the lot numbers increased, and we approached.  My luck was in.  I had only a commission bid to contend with.  And then it was over.  I held up my paddle:  479. I won!  I won!  I will take delivery of the piano that is new to me in the new year.   Life is like a piano.   What you get out of it depends on how you play it. Tom Lehrer

Time is a strange thing.  We know how long a minute is, and how many minutes are in an hour, and how many hours make up a day, and yet a moment is so intangible.  Time is but a series of moments.  And moments pass at different speeds.  This year feels in some ways to have flown by.  And yet, when I survey it as I have done recently, I can acknowledge how much has happened.  How much has been achieved, and how much growth has occurred.  I wanted to be present with myself and to mark the day in a way that felt right for me, right now.  My feelings showed me the way and guided me as I allowed more moments to unfold, and to envelop and hold me.  I felt peaceful with the reality that it was a whole year ago that we finally said goodbye.  It was a long goodbye and, in many ways, it was last year that I was faced with the biggest loss:  the gap between the mother had known, and the woman I went to visit in those final months. ...