Tag: 2025

year in which poem was written

Why I’m not a hoarder …
```
"... you can’t always choose 
what you inherit 
don’t always recognise 
the legacies 
planted in you 
germinating 
when you least expect ..."
```
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about de-cluttering, which to be fair, is a recurring theme in my life. I’m not one of those people who feels the need to hang onto things that belonged to the people I’ve loved. If my bookcases are full of books, it’s because they hold personal memories, or they are books I want to re-read. I don’t hold onto something just because it was gifted or inherited from a loved one. I won’t keep things I no longer use just in case it comes in handy sometime in the future. I’ll recycle, donate or bin it, depending on its condition.

It’s suddenly become quite trendy to de-clutter. The latest word for it is death-cleaning and having had to clear out rooms and whole houses belonging to loved ones who have died, that resonates. But this is a not a new thing. It was William Morris who said, “Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful”. Not a bad starting point.

Don’t get me wrong: I still do have lots of things in my house that are neither useful nor beautiful. It’s a work in progress and, given my husband is my polar opposite when it comes to stuff, it’s a battle of wills! That’s a whole other story, which I won’t get into here.

I suspect that one of the reasons we hold onto stuff is that it belonged to someone we loved and we feel obliged to keep it. Perhaps we think we have a duty to pass it on to the next generation. But mostly I think we hold onto something because we believe we’re holding onto a part of the person we’ve lost. It is a memento, that when we look at it and pick it up, makes us feel closer to our loved one. I do understand that. But what I’ve learnt over time is that I don’t need the object to bring the person closer. The memory of them is already stored inside my head and heart, and I can bring it to the fore whenever I need or want to.

This week’s poem came from a couple of recent experiences, which on the face of it are completely unconnected. I love how a poem can channel a range of thoughts, experiences, and events through a single conduit. I took part in a group exercise last month marking All Souls’ Day, the traditional day when we remember the dead. We were invited to make a bracelet using old buttons, the idea being that each button would represent a loved one that you had lost. I had this romantic notion of pulling out an old button box that might have belonged to my grandmother, which I have treasured since her death. But that’s not the reality at all and it made me wonder about that yearning for connection I sometimes feel. A tin of old buttons won’t make memories of my grannie any more real than the memories I already treasure and that’s the truth of it.

Similarly, I spoke to a woman in Iceland who was so proud of the fact that her family had lived on the same farm in the east fjords for generations. Her sense of place was so defined; she was firmly rooted in her family legacy. That clearly works for her and, for a moment, it made me yearn again for that same sense of connection to land and to family. But what works for one person may not work for another. In reality, I think the thing I most value about my upbringing was the sense of freedom my parents gave me to spread my wings and find my own flight path, and I absolutely have.

I sense I’ve barely touched the surface of this theme of legacy as it’s made up of several layers, but I hope, by scratching the surface, it’s prompted you to ponder what kind of button box, real or virtual, you have hidden in a cupboard and what it represents.

the button box Download
17/12/2025
Why silence creates connection …
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"... after weeks of quiet 
the world suddenly 
sounds loud 
instinct would have me 
block it out 
but I’m working on 
tuning back in 
which I know I must ..."
```
Years ago I completed The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron and it totally changed the way I think about creativity. In fact, I’ve done it twice, once with a friend and later again on my own. Perhaps you’ve heard of it and possibly completed it yourself? I expect that everyone who does it will take from it something unique to them; equally there will undoubtedly be plenty of shared revelations too. Turns out that if you dedicate time in your day to focus on your creativity, then it will come. Who knew? Before I took up The Artist’s Way, I used to think that inspiration would find me but that’s not how it works. Not for most people anyhow. You have to work at it, give it time and space, and welcome it in.

I recently listened to an interview with Jackie Kay on Radio 4’s This Cultural Life, where she basically said the same thing. She recounted that writing is her best friend because it was always there for her, as long as she turned up. She also quoted Picasso who apparently said, “Inspiration will come but it’s got to find you working”.

I gave a copy of The Artist’s Way to one of my work colleagues last year as she was struggling to find her voice and I thought it might help. When looking to order the book, I saw that Julia Cameron had written a new book called The Listening Path, and I bought a copy for myself, thinking I’d give it a go. Like The Artist’s Way, it’s a guided course over a number of weeks and the focus is on listening. It’s been sitting on a shelf ever since, but now feels like the right time to pick it up. I reasoned that it might help me focus as I adapt to life back in the UK. I think it’s a good shout because soundscapes feel very alive to me just now. Perhaps it’s to be expected after weeks of relative quiet, living in a camper van, feeling small in the midst of huge landscapes.

I’ll admit that I didn’t expect the adjustment to life back in the UK to be quite so difficult. I didn’t think I’d have to work at it. I just assumed that I’d slip seamlessly back into my routines, like riding a bike as the saying goes. But instead, I’ve found everything so loud, fast paced and, frankly, somewhat uncomfortable. It’s tempting to block it out, and retreat into my own little world. But through The Listening Path, I was invited to consider that when you block unwelcome noise, you become disconnected . It’s only when you welcome in sounds that you’re connected and in tune with your environment. This makes sense: how can I be alive to the moment if I’ve closed the door on it?

As a result, I’ve really tried to tune in to what is going on around me, which is how I came to write this week’s poem. It hasn’t always been easy, and the evening we recently spent having dinner with our best friends, proved a real test for me. I simply couldn’t keep up with the conversation and the temptation was to give up. But I didn’t; I persevered. We stayed overnight, as we always do due to the distance between our two houses, and the following morning it was such a delight to sit in their living room and purposefully tune into the sounds emerging from the kitchen. It reminded me that all of life is precious. It’s hard to beat the experience of sharing home-cooked food around a table with people you love. Yet, all the work that goes into preparing a meal and the cleaning up afterwards, is a necessary part of the same story isn’t it? Finally, I knew I was glad to be home, re-connected to my life, ready to tune in, listen and be inspired.

I’d encourage you to focus on the sounds you can hear and how you respond, creativity may emerge if and when you work at it.

soundscape Download
10/12/2025
Why bad weather can be a blessing in disguise …
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"... the day offers up 
whatever it has 
your only choice
is to take or leave it 
be here 
be present 
who knows what gifts 
the day may bring ..."
```
Who remembers the comment made by Princess Diana in the renowned interview with Martin Bashir, when she stated that there were three people in her marriage? It was broadcast 35 years ago this month, and it’s a comment that’s become something of a private joke between me and my husband. I’ve said for years that there are three in our marriage: my husband, his camera and me.

During our recent trip to Iceland, the in-joke between us was that there were three on the trip: the weather, my husband and me. Without doubt, weather featured heavily throughout the three months of our travels. There were several occasions when, due to poor conditions, we had to change our plans. We spent days hunkered down in various campsites, waiting for a break in the weather. Heavy rain and then snow resulted in closed roads, even the wind got in on the act, closing the only route east, which naturally, is where we were heading.

There was nothing for it but to simply wait it out. Don’t get me wrong, we both had plenty of things to keep us occupied. I wrote, I crocheted, I even practiced yoga in the shower block, whilst my husband worked on his photographs. Even so, it felt a little bit like “dead time”, which got me thinking about all the times when I’ve been “in limbo”. Does that ring a bell for anyone else, or is it just me?

There are all kinds of situations in which I’ve felt almost stuck in time, such as when waiting for a big life event like a wedding or a house move. I ached for the moment when the thing (whatever it was) would happen. On other occasions, I’ve wanted time to go backwards, such as when I sat at my father’s bedside during his final days. I knew what was unfolding, and I would’ve given anything to wind the clock back. I feel sure we’ll all have times we can recount when we’ve felt stuck. You hear horror stories about people waiting in A&E for days on end. Lives are put on hold, whilst someone stays with and supports a loved one waiting for treatment. We often forget that life can be unpredictable, and plan ahead regardless. People track the days leading up to a much anticipated holiday (“x many sleeps!”) and, dare I say it, many are already counting down the days until Christmas.

The point I’m raising in this week’s poem is that, whilst ever we are fixed on whatever it is we’re waiting for, wishing time to go forward or back, we’re not focused on the present. How much do we miss, I wonder, because we’re too busy looking to the past or the future?

Sometimes, unexpected events, can wake us up to what’s happening right now. Being forced to stop provides breathing space; the perfect opportunity to review where you are and make different choices if you need to. Alternatively, it can simply help you appreciate what you have. When holed up during a bad storm, I felt immensely grateful for the safe haven that was the camper van, most especially the heating system!

On those days when we weren’t travelling due to bad weather, I truly appreciated the opportunity just to sit and think, welcome in silence and see where it took me. You never do know what opportunities may come up when you allow a day to unfold without expectation. Having penned this week’s poem in the van one blustery afternoon, I decided to take a short walk and grab some fresh air. Within minutes of setting out, a double rainbow appeared in front of me. It was, for me, the perfect example of being ready for whatever the day presented; it truly did feel like a gift.

How about you? When was the last time you were truly present in the moment and ready to receive whatever gift came your way?

waiting time Download
26/11/2025