Tags: brexit, gratitude, humanity, special needs
This article has also been published in The Huffington Post.
My 20-year-old son has multiple health issues, and learning difficulties. He therefore needs 24/7 care. He lives, term-time, at an outstanding specialist college. He is looked after by a fantastic team of carers, or facilitators, who come from a whole range of different places, including England, South Africa… and, of course, Eastern Europe. Poland is high on that list.
I would love to give the whole team bouquets of fragrant flowers. But I’m a little too British and reserved for that. The facilitators do so much for him. They cut his hair, trim his nails, help him to eat and drink, and routinely handle life-saving medical equipment under the supervision of his amazing nurses. They also support him to study, exercise and socialise – all the things that make life worthwhile. And they do it all in a way that respects him as an individual. He enjoys life, hugely. That’s only possible because of the team that supports him.
Over the weekend I spent an afternoon with my son. During that period, a carer arrived who was new to me.
“Where are you from?” I asked her.
“Poland,” she said. She didn’t say it with any sense of happiness. Though she smiled, she wasn’t exactly glowing. All was not well.
I paused, acutely aware of the ongoing post-Referendum backlash against Eastern European workers.
“I want you to know,” I said, “that we’ve both just signed the Petition.”
She looked surprised.
“You know, the Petition for a Second Referendum.”
“Yes, I know about the petition.”
I went on to explain how my son had communicated, very clearly, that he is keen to support his European friends and carers. He had taken great pleasure pressing one finger against the green box on the Petitions page. He had been keen to confirm his vote by email.
“Oh,” she replied. “I’m so glad you told me. That is really good to hear. It’s not pleasant at the moment, knowing that so many people in England don’t want us here. It’s not a nice feeling.”
She was visibly moved. When she left the room shortly afterwards, I have a feeling that there may have been tears.
The reality is that we get a huge amount of help – real, physical, caring help – from Europe. As the mother of a young person with complex needs, I know that it would be really hard to get enough of the support we need if we were to close our borders.
My son’s facilitators, with their diverse backgrounds, literally bring the world to him. During his intermittent hospital admissions, the carers stay by him. During long hours at my son’s bedside, my family has learned about different countries from a personal, human perspective. My son has absorbed all this information.
My family has learned on a deep level that humans are not so different from one another. We share remarkably similar values. We laugh at the same things. We cry with the same sadness. We all of us worry when we feel under attack. And we love in the same whole-hearted, hopeful way.
People are people, wherever you go. It’s only the background that changes. We are enriched beyond measure by the clever, compassionate, caring individuals who help our son. That includes all the ones from Britain, South Africa… and Eastern Europe.
The petition may, or may not result in a second Referendum – I hope it does. At the same time, although I voted Remain, I do respect and share the view that EU reform is needed.
However, I think the Petition’s purpose runs deeper than politics. Signing is an act that shows the many European residents in this country that we do welcome them, and are grateful for the work that they do.
I don’t give my son’s facilitators bouquets of fragrant flowers – perhaps I should. But I certainly hope these words will let them know how much we appreciate them.
Tags: gratitude, nature recipes, success, wellbeing
This blog was viewed 19,000 times in 2015. WordPress worked it out. “If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House,” they write, “it would take about seven sold-out performances for that many people to see it.”
For a not-very-frequent blogger, the numbers are amazing. I’m grateful that these pages have been viewed, and commented on, so many times. Thank you!
The subjects of these pages include meditation, healing, intuition and nature. It’s about living an authentic life. Many of us have a real thirst for that – and it often takes a practical turn. The most popular posts here are often recipes of one sort or another.
So in 2016, when I gather wild food for the cooking pot, make soaps from the hedgerows and blend fresh herbal teas from the garden, I will share these activities with you.
The most viewed post in 2015 has been a recipe for elderberry cordial. I adore elderberries, from their vibrant colour to their delicious, healthy juiciness.
One of the best things about writing that post has been the many comments from readers who have tried out the recipe and/or come up with their own variations. When that happens, there’s a special magic between WordPress, blogger and reader/commentator.
To all who have visited over the past year… I’m drinking to your good health, with a glass of elderberry cordial.
Tags: gratitude, Guidance, inspiration, meditation, Mind body spirit, mindfulness, poetry
The word we’re meditating on this week is ‘Discovery’.
When we regularly sit down in quietness and allow the busy thoughts of our mind to subside, a clarity can emerge which spreads into every aspect of our life. We see things as though they are lit from the inside. We gain insights. This process of looking at the familiar and seeing it afresh is one of the best forms of discovery, and one of meditation’s great gifts.
The following is an example from this morning, when I simply looked out of a window, saw cars in the far distance, and understood on a deeper level that each vehicle contained a shining soul.
What discoveries will come your way today?
The Road to Calne
Shining beads glide
between fields of frost
under the rosy sky
of our potential.
Each bead, a soul
hiding from its light,
disturbed by the future,
wounded from the past.
If we dare see
how brightly we glow,
our heavy cloaks of fear
dissolve in the warmth.
Tags: gratitude, healing, life skills, meditation, mindfulness, personal growth, Spirituality, wellbeing
In a couple of weeks’ time, I’m running a meditation workshop on The Healing Power of Calm. A few months back, I decided to be rather organised. I decided to meditate regularly on the word ‘calm’ for 30 days. There was a question I wanted to answer. Could meditating on the word ‘calm’ actually create a calmer life for oneself? Here are some extracts from my diary.
Day 1. There begins to be a sense, with every out breath, of every cell in the body releasing stuff it has been hanging on to: letting it go. No longer trying to control, hold on or sit on top of stuff. Just letting it go… Outside, wood doves coo and blackbirds sing, and the mild winter air feels fresh and sweet.
Day 2. I realise that the cells as I visualise them are faithfully taking on the colour of the air outside. Today it is that time just before dawn, so my cells are night-dark, with early glimmerings of light.
Day 4. It seems to me that each day is like a mandala: a circular or perhaps spherical pattern. The mandala begins at the very centre of me with a seed thought: ‘calm’. And as the day and the mandala expand, the seed’s qualities of calm permeate and manifest. This happens in ways that perfectly reflect my seed intention.
Day 5. Now I understand that what has stood between ‘calm’ and me is a need to control. I have been trying to control life itself by building a house of cards, to protect those I love, and myself, from the inchoate chaos that lies beyond all things. Yet there is only one thing that can save me: I need to surrender. I cannot hold back chaos. That is impossible. Instead, I need to step into the abyss, with a sense of trust. As I realise this, my whole body relaxes. A tingling makes itself felt at the top of my head. I feel myself beginning to grow, like a flower. But not too far, not yet. And the moment of growing passes, and is gone. But I have glimpsed it.
Day 6. After yesterday’s brief sensation of surrender, today’s meditation brings sadness – a sense of regret, of what might have been. It feels good to let the emotions flow. I realise that is all I need to do: let it flow, let it go. I understand that to experience calm, we do need to travel through our bottled-up emotions. There is no other way. Beneath, beyond and through the sadness lies that deep, infinite calm.
Day 13. Things have been busy lately. My son turned 18 (true cause to celebrate: it was never a given). A party. Many overnight guests. A welcome time of celebration and gratitude. I notice, unsurprisingly, that my meditation sessions have been patchy: ten minutes here, five minutes there. When I do succeed in calming my mind, I learn that it is necessary to value oneself in order to maintain one’s calm. If I am constantly available to all, I am present for none, least of all myself. I need to reconnect with the stillness within me in order to make sense of a busy world.
Day 24. I have been able to reach a point where my days do not feel pressured. Many of my commitments seem to have melted away. For example, out of the blue, the school run is now being handled largely by others. This liberates extra hours in my days. Life has become more spacious – a beautiful word. I feel as though I haven’t experienced this since becoming a mother, 18 years ago.
Day 30. I notice that I have become more ordered in my life. I am better at completing one project before starting the next. There continues to be more space in my days, and in the ‘to do’ list in my mind.
For the first time in many years I feel as though I am one with the rhythms of my life and of the wider world – not all the time, but more often.
In one month, the outer world around me rearranged itself to reflect the calm that I was focusing on. Some of the changes were initiated by me. But many, such as the lighter school run commitment, were initiated by changes in the outer world. And that change made a big difference!
I notice from the diary entries that just as I was beginning to get real breakthroughs – expressed through the sadness flowing – I got busy. On some level it seems to me that I decided that I had dealt with enough bottled-up emotions for the time being. After that point, the practice felt like more a consolidation of new habits. It felt ok to do that. But I wonder what would have happened if I had, for example, gone on a longer retreat and effectively forced myself to go into the subject more fully. However, the beauty of this daily system was that I could make changes at a comfortable pace. Over all, I liked it a lot. I will do it again, perhaps soon.
PS The pebbles photographed above were three that I picked up on Brey Beach on the Island of Alderney last summer, and placed on a window sill. I have discovered that calm lies in such simple, sunlit moments.