Tag: 2025

year in which poem was written

How one small thing can prompt big changes …
```
"... when the world feels  
overwhelming 
the news headlines  
robbing the world of joy 
day after endless day 
the only thing  
you can stop is you ..."
```
I spent a day and a half recently on a ferry, which felt like suspended time. You’re forced to slow down and adapt to a new way of being, which is perhaps no bad thing. I tried practising some yoga on the deck, which proved impossible. How foolish of me to imagine that I could counter-balance the shifting sea. Plan B was to simply sit and watch the waves, enjoy the moment and let myself be still. I had nowhere else I needed to be; indeed nowhere else I could be. It was a lesson in letting go of my need to somehow manage every minute of my day.

It’s so easy to be sucked into a way of life that we wouldn’t chose for ourselves if we had the choice. How many of us have pondered how different our lives might have been if it wasn’t for the choices we’d made? Perhaps that’s the thing to focus on: choice. Sometimes we are so far down one path that we think we can’t deviate or turn back, but we can! We may chose not to, but I think we almost always have a choice.

It doesn’t necessarily have to be the big things. I’m not suggesting we all make drastic changes, like quitting jobs, filing for divorce and moving to a commune. Can you imagine the ensuing chaos if we all did that? It’s amazing what a huge difference small changes can make. Just think back to those marginal gains leading to Tour de France wins for the Sky Cycling Team. And let’s not forget Dr Michael Moseley’s attempts to persuade us, as a nation, to do “just one thing” to improve our health.

Who would’ve thought an introduction to weaving would prompt a shift in my perspective? But it did and this poem is the result. Perhaps it was the need to concentrate on doing something physical with my hands. Or maybe it was simply the fact that I was doing something different: I wasn’t looking at my phone; listening to the news; or busy trying to do several things at once. We have a tendency to think that we need to take drastic measures to effect change in our lives. I was speaking to a friend recently who told me that she wants to change her lifestyle. Each morning she feels enthused, only to lose momentum later in the day. I suggested that she make small steps first and follow the rule of three. I love this rule! You focus on just three things over a three month period, rather than try to tackle everything in one go. It feels more manageable somehow.

Trying something new is a great way to re-boot. Sometimes that can be purposeful; other times it is gifted to you by circumstances beyond your control. Like the ferry crossing I mentioned earlier. No matter how much I might’ve wanted to arrive quicker, I simply had to adapt to a slower pace of life for the duration of the crossing. Maybe today is your day to try something new? Perhaps you’ll discover new depths you didn’t know you had! I feel sure that, like the ocean, we all have hidden treasures yet to be discovered.

weaving Download
08/10/2025
How feeling small can be a big deal …
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"... I’ve crossed more than a sea 
to get to where I am 
this journey began long ago
in dreams and visions 
of a quieter life ..."
```
It’s hard to believe that, at time of writing, I’m already half way through my trip to Iceland. Yet it feels weird to even think about time, because quite honestly, it feels irrelevant. It feels like time has stood still and I could be in a different era entirely, on another planet. A couple of days ago we had to drive to Reykjavík to buy a replacement stove (don’t ask … long story!). I felt completely out of my comfort zone, navigating a busy ring road and lots of traffic. For weeks, it feels like we’ve been living in a time warp, where you can drive for miles without seeing a car and where isolated farms populate an otherwise wild and wide open space.

I’m intoxicated by the huge landscape, so much so that it feels rude to break the spell. Whilst driving, I usually listen to the radio, or to music, but here we’ve driven in silence. It feels too much to add to the already crowded senses. If I say anything to my husband, who is sat beside me in the van, I almost whisper. I’ve purposefully avoided listening to the news. To some, that may sound irresponsible but, goodness, I feel so light as a result!

It’s been a complete detox from so much of what drains me at home. I wrote in an earlier blog about how travel can give you fresh perspective, and I’m certainly feeling that. When you encounter a landscape both as ancient and alive as Iceland’s, you can’t help but accept that we humans aren’t as powerful as we think we are. We’re not in control of this planet we call home. We aren’t even that well established as a species in the grand scheme of things. It’s thought provoking in ways I didn’t expect, and the poems just keep coming. I’ve felt truly humbled and inspired, brought down to size by the sheer scale of the scenery, attracted by the seeming simplicity of life here (which I accept may not be simple at all, but I can only share my impressions). Most townships are small and unassuming, usually with a church, a swimming pool, a football pitch and not much else. I find it incredibly refreshing and perhaps it’s just what I needed as I transition from one way of living to another. I needed to reconnect to nature and be reminded of my inconsequential place in the world. I have plans and dreams for the next chapter of my life, of course I do, but I’m learning not to look too far into the future.

One of the lessons I most needed to learn is to live in the moment. I’ve watched a lot of tourists here (almost all Chinese) pour out of coaches and hire cars, to view a scene, take a photo and quickly get back on the road. Who am I to judge? I’m just as guilty sometimes of seeing something through the lens of my iPhone camera, rather than really looking. I’m privileged because time is on my side: we’re here for an extended period of time. I can and have surrendered to Iceland’s spell, engaging all my senses. I’ve felt the roughness of the lava rocks and the softness of the vivid green moss carpeting the valley floor. I’ve listened to the howling wind, felt the rain on my face, and tasted the saltiness of sea. I’ve felt my bones rattle on unsurfaced roads and soothed in thermal pools. Quite simply, I’ve lived in a big place and felt small. I suspect planet earth approves.

iceland Download
01/10/2025
How fictional characters can feel just as relevant as real people …
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"... what if we tried 
to let go
and let be
focus our energies 
on finding 
our true selves
we each could live
long and well
in our chosen skins ..."
```
As a child, I was an avid reader and found my first heroes in the pages of books. Classics such as Heidi, Little Women and Black Beauty fired my imagination, but my favourite was Laura Ingalls Wilder and I read all the books as well as watched the series, Little House on the Prairie. I loved her fiery spirit and could very much relate to the curse of living under the shadow of the all-so-perfect older sister.

I think we all look to others for inspiration; they help us navigate through life, trying to understand who we are as people and where we fit. One of the first truly inspirational person I met in the flesh, was the wife of a family friend. Unlike other grown ups I’d encountered, she wore faded jeans and wandered around in bare feet. She was a terrible cook, and was often seen with an open paperback in her left hand as she stirred the pot with her right. I never saw her with make-up and the closest she got to grooming was to put her hair in a ponytail. She was a free spirit and I loved her for it.

It took me a long time to find my true self. To some this seems to come easy, but I’m sure it isn’t. As a child, I used to think everyone else’s family was normal and mine wasn’t. My parents divorced when I was in secondary school, which was unusual in the 1970’s. Now, of course, I know that normal simply doesn’t exist. I wish I’d learnt that sooner: it would’ve saved me a whole lot of angst!

When you don’t know who you truly are, it’s tempting to try to be something you are not. I’ve done that countless times through the decades. It never does work, at least not in my experience. No end of people trying to dissuade you seems to work either; you have to discover it for yourself. That said, I’ve lost count of how many incredible people I’ve met in life who have inspired me, either through something they have done or said, or simply in the way they choose to live. There were a handful of brilliant teachers, parents of friends, managers at work, and some public figures who particularly impressed me. I’ve been inspired by poets, songwriters, authors and their fictional characters. My life has been made all the richer due to people, real and fictional, that have helped shaped my character and I’m extremely grateful.

This is a very recent poem, written in the Faroe Islands, where I was lucky enough to visit the statute of the mythical seal woman of Mikladalur. This myth is not unique to these parts and, indeed, I read about such myths, and many more, in Sharon Blackie’s fascinating book, “If Women Rose Rooted”. It got me thinking about the seal woman and her mythical life. She was forced to live as a human for many years, wife to the man who stole her skin. What must that have been like, I thought, but then I realised that, sadly, it was perhaps not that unusual a story.

So many of us end up living a life not of our choosing and we may spend our lives searching for what we should be. The journey is all part of life isn’t it, and I think it matters as much as the destination, if not more so. It can feel frustrating at times and most paths are not linear. We go back and forth, learning and unlearning, most of our lives. That’s all part of the story and is made the richer for it. Wherever you are on your journey, I hope you find the path to your true self.

seal woman Download
10/09/2025