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Monday 29th October 2018

It finally feels as if autumn is arriving, at last.  I know plenty of people who feel sad as the season shifts and the weather becomes noticeably cooler, but I’ve always loved this time of year.

As a big foodie, it means that the salads of summer are to be traded for the more comforting and filling fare of stews, roasted meats and steamed puddings and the inevitable ‘muffin top’ will in a few weeks need to be disguised beneath thick jumpers and woollens.

I’ve told people before that I can almost smell winter approaching. Not in the same way that you might smell perfume or old books, but in a very primitive sense that something is happening, and this is confirmed by the change in the colours of the landscape, the trees as they begin to drop their leaves in earnest and the days as they become steadily shorter.

This Autumn I have been surfing new changes.  My child, now grown up into adulthood began University and left home. The buzz of excitement which followed in their wake made it difficult for me to feel sad, but I have been especially nostalgic over the last few weeks.  I’ve found myself re-visiting old photographs –their first steps, the joy of learning to ride a bike, the last day of playgroup and the first day of school. Line them up and there’s a little photographic archive of change. Some that we can’t fail to notice because of their seismic importance and others that at the time went unnoticed but that are now regarded as a defined stepping-stone from one phase to another.

The other week as I packed the last bits into the car on the day we set off for University, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of change in the air.  Grabbing the keys, I heard an unfamiliar noise and looked up to see wild geese flying over-head.  They are always a sign of change but this day it seemed especially symbolic – flying the nest, literally.  They symbolise the nature of things and the rhythm of life itself.

I was reminded of Rachel Field’s poem, Something Told the Wild Geese.  She speaks about situations where we need to acquire the ability to flow and trust our instincts – we may wish to stay in the relative discomfort of where we find ourselves rather than face the fear of change, but she gently reminds us that the snow is coming regardless.

It is in the very nature of things and like it or not, living is ultimately all about change.

Something Told the Wild Geese  – by Rachel Field                                                             

Something told the wild geese
It was time to go.
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered,—‘Snow.’
Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, luster-glossed,
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned,—‘Frost.’
All the sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spice,
But each wild breast stiffened
At remembered ice.
Something told the wild geese
It was time to fly,—
Summer sun was on their wings,
Winter in their cry.

 

Wednesday 26th September 2018   

When clients begin therapy with me, I always suggest that they start to keep a journal so that they can begin to record their thoughts and feelings.  It serves as an archive of their progress through their journey towards self-awareness but it can also be a useful tool for helping them to gain more insight into a problem, thought or feeling.

In this Blog, I intend to record my own thoughts and musings and just maybe some of the things I share may be useful or helpful in some way to others – (or not! – either way is fine).  I’ve always found writing therapeutic – it provides a space for a different way of processing words and sentences.  When we speak, we can throw words away without thinking, yet when writing, the pace is sometimes slower and this can provide ‘head-room’ to be more articulate and creative – to under-pin what we want to communicate with real meaning.

I didn’t know until recently that Blog actually means Big Load of Gossip… mine is a big load of something – no matter – the point is, I’m going to enjoy writing it.

Happy Wednesday

Bye for now