Tag: 2025

year in which poem was written

Why silence creates connection …
```
"... 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 …
```
"... 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
How to live with who you are not who you want to be …
```
"... both nature and nurture 
shaped me 
to be just so
if I can’t let go 
perhaps I can 
accommodate ..."
```
If you follow this blog you’ll know that I’ve been on an extended trip this year to the Faroe Islands and Iceland. Now I’m finally home, I’m thinking about the next chapter of my life. I retired earlier in the summer and, in many ways, this overseas trip has acted as something of a circuit breaker. My old life in full time work truly feels like a world away.

But what the trip has reminded me of, is that despite all the variables impacting on my life, at the core, I reflect the same values, outlook and, yes, hang ups I always have. I do think that autumn is a good time to re-evaluate where you are in life and consider any changes you want to make. I was in an online meeting with a group of other women last month who were invited to share what in their lives they wanted to retain and what to release. I really struggled with the exercise, but finally wrote that I wanted to rid myself of anxiety. Now, that’s a tall order.

In the days that followed, I thought more about the gap between what we may want to be and what we actually are. Watching the waves crashing against the rocks one afternoon, it dawned on me that so much of what happens in life is beyond our control. This doesn’t just impact on us as humans, but on every living thing on the planet.

Even the ocean, that appears incredibly powerful and a law unto itself, is not in control. It’s the weather that mostly determines how the oceans meet the shore; it’s the moon that dictates the tides.

As for me, a combination of nature and nurture shaped who I’ve become. It’s the way I was parented and schooled, the friends I made, and the place where I grew up. I cannot help but be who I am, but that’s not the whole story. Nurture takes you so far but you always have nature to fall back on, and that’s what inspired me when wave-watching. The oceans have so much to contend with: the moon is pulling them one way, and the wind another, yet they just keep moving. They are powerful enough to move mountains, quite literally. They continue to re-shape our shorelines, cutting through rock, leaving us gasping with awe at caves and sea arches the world over.

Anxiety is part of who I am and I’m naive to think I can ditch it. But accepting that anxiety is part of me, doesn’t mean I have to necessarily give into it. I can rage against it if I choose, I can ignore it, negotiate with it, even welcome it. It doesn’t define me. It’s part of me, but it’s not the whole of me.

Learning to love and accept the parts of ourselves we might not like can be a struggle, but it’s worth the effort to try. It makes life a whole lot easier, that’s for sure. I feel much happier accepting that anxiety is a part of me that I must learn to accommodate, rather than constantly punishing myself for feeling anxious.

This week, I invite you to reflect those parts of yourself you’d like to ditch but then acknowledge, that without them, you wouldn’t be who you are.

nature and nurture Download
19/11/2025
How one woman’s passion inspired others to fight for theirs …
```
"... on sigriðarstigur
I wonder at my legacy 
such as it is 
I’ve been a leader of people 
driven by my values 
remaining true 
to who I’m meant to be ..."
```
As I’m heading home from my trip, I’m ever conscious that there’s an obvious reason this feels different than other homecomings. For the first time since my student days, this has felt like a trip rather than a holiday. I won’t be heading back into the office on my return, as I have done so many times previously.

I can’t deny that my job has been a huge part of my life and my identity for three decades, and yet I’m reluctant to say that it defined me; I don’t think it ever did. I’ve known people who have been so invested in their professional roles that they can’t let go. I’m not one to judge, and maintaining links with your old firm, or working in a similar role beyond retirement, clearly works for many people. But for me, retiring is about starting a brand new chapter. I’m looking forward to having time to do other things that interest me (such as this blog!), to learn new skills and explore parts of the world I haven’t yet visited.

Which brings me to this week’s poem, which is based on the true story of an Icelandic woman who wouldn’t give up. She fought all her life to prevent a mighty waterfall, partly owned by her family, from being exploited for financial gain. Her father was tricked into selling the lease and she supported him in fighting a legal battle, which they ultimately lost. Despite the courts going against them, Gullfoss was left intact, because the new owners failed to honour the terms of the sale.

But that’s not the part that really inspired me. What inspired me most about Sigriður Tómasdóttir was her tenacity and her absolute passion for nature. She was determined that the waterfall be allowed to flow freely as it had always done. Not only that, her courage to stand up to officials inspired others within Iceland to respect nature on their doorstep. They began to appreciate nature for what it was, rather than what we might make it. As a result, many refer to Sigriður as Iceland’s first environmentalist.

This fight for her beloved waterfall was her life’s work. She was skilled in many other ways, but it was her commitment to Gullfoss’s cause, that defined her. I don’t think she would ever have let it go. It made me wonder what, if anything, would I hold onto because I cared so deeply. If not my professional role, then what?

I guess it boils down to the same thing that undoubtedly drove Sigriður: values. It was my values that determined the job I did and how I did it. It’s those same values that influence how I interact with others, and how I live my life. Perhaps that’s why I found it easy to let go of my professional role because the foundations on which it was built continue to shape me.

I wonder how aware Sigriður was of her legacy? She would’ve had no idea that a monument would be built to honour her at Gullfoss, and a walkway named after her. Do any of us truly appreciate our impact on others? My ex-boss used to quote Maya Angelou to her workforce on a regular basis: “people will forget what you did and said, but they won’t forget the way you made them feel”.

I did my best, on many occasions, not so much to impose my values on my team but to impart advice that was rooted in what I believed for myself. I trust they listened at least some of the time. I believe they did, and I watched them thrive with pride. The foundations have been set and that’s as much as I can do. I hope they will continue to thrive, which is also my hope for you. May the thing that you hold on to, whatever it is, bring you joy.

sigridarstigur Download
12/11/2025
Why we all need beacons by which to steer our course …
```
"... there’s comfort to be found 
in familiarity 
tempting to stay 
closer than you should 
to what you’ve always known 
rather than venture 
beyond ..."
```
At the beginning of our long trip to the Faroe Islands and Iceland, I mentioned to a fellow camper from the UK, that we would be away for 3 months. Her immediate reaction was, “Oh, you’re brave!”. I brushed off her comment as somewhat risk adverse, standing a little taller as I replied that it would be an “adventure”.

My husband and I had discussed the duration of the trip in some detail, opting to go for the maximum period allowed (3 months). This was, in part, to give us time to truly explore without rushing. But, I’ll be honest, it was also to justify to expense of the ferry fare. May as well make the most of it, we thought, as we are highly unlikely to do it again.

I’ve thought often about that fellow camper during our trip: she was onto something! I underestimated just how challenging the trip would be in countless ways. I’ve never travelled for such an extended period before, in a country that feels very different to my own. I’ve found it harder than expected but, equally, the challenges I’ve faced have made me stronger.

In my head I can still see a poster on a wall in my classroom at school, showing a picture of a ship in harbour. The words read, “A ship in harbour is safe, but that’s not what ships were built for”. It inspired me then and still does. If you think about all the things that might go wrong in life, you’d never do anything would you? It’s important to have dreams and to be brave enough to take the first step into the unknown. It can be scary but also exciting. You need to plan to some degree, but be prepared for the unexpected, because things won’t always go your way.

It helps, I think, to have tools at your disposal when things don’t work out as you’d hoped. I’m a big believer in gut instinct. I can’t explain it, but I just know that whenever I’ve failed to listen to my instinct, that’s when things have gone horribly wrong. Instinct, however, can also let you down. I love the lighthouse analogy; we’ve seen a lot of lighthouses in Iceland, enough to stretch my imagination still further. Your instinct might be telling you, this is the way, but then there’s a warning light foretelling danger. What would you do? I’d be risk adverse and navigate away from danger, of course I would.

It’s all about balance at the end of the day. The irony of a lighthouse, is that the beam of light may bring comfort when you feel anxious, but it’s main job is to warn of danger. It’s not always easy to distinguish between the two is it? There’ve been times in my life when I’ve struggled to differentiate between what’s right for me and what isn’t. I’ve felt all at sea, which is the title of this week’s poem.

Some of the challenges we’ve faced in Iceland led us to seriously consider cutting the trip short, but we didn’t. True, I would most likely have felt more secure on familiar ground, but I’m certain I would’ve regretted any decision to give up. This blog will go out on our last full day in Iceland. We’ll be catching the ferry heading back to Denmark, as originally planned, the next day. We stayed the course!

Going back to that schoolroom poster, I wasn’t made to play it safe but to live my life to the full, and that’s what I’m going to do. I want to live brave.

all at sea Download
05/11/2025