For a very long time, since i was in my teens so a very long time indeed, i have been keeping something safe. Something very precious. It is a thing, a real thing, not a secret or a theory, a real grab with both hands thing. In fact, that is how I acquired the thing in question.
The magic was following a thread of interest today, via an internet search and a few hop skips to others, to find an article written by a curator of a museum close to where I went to art college. More internetting ensued and became a conversation across a continent.
To say that it was needed, in the fog of grief, around the disruption of losing my clinic space, in the despair of sleepless nights, at midsummer on a hot sticky afternoon, looking out at the world and wondering where my place in it is, is not just an understatement; it’s validation that the magic of life which I have recently lost is still there just waiting to be discovered.
Yesterday I made the decision to step away from the posting, the reels, the sharing online via social media. It’s been a while coming. Many friends have applauded my actions, others have questioned it and others no doubt wonder if I’m OK. I’ve been feeling the need for deeper connecting than the likes without any comments that leave you wondering why we put so much out there, day in, day out, and then spend time scrolling through other people’s posts. Maybe it is to do with having more time to question when you re not in the flow of life, when your perspective is taken wider through tragedy and loss. When i’m busy being creative, something I have been giving more time for since New Year, it helps to clear my head, sends me into a state from which i can sleep easier. I’ve been sensing a craving for a different flow, a slower pace, a life in which i feel more valued and connected.
So the conversation I had today which connects the lives of families across a 100 years, thousands of miles and no doubt will extend into illuminating conversations of discovery after loss, my heart is full once more of a love for life I had lost. Dad would have been intrigued by the story, as a writer no doubt he would have written a story about it and been proud his daughter has played her part so honourably.
I am still practicing, albeit with less availability, offering mobile appointments and borrowing a room. Festival planning in play, teams coming together and a year of seasonal events planned ahead so far. I am resolute to continue to offer the quality of what I do to those who seek me out, the deeper connection to themselves they crave, those magic moments away from the flow of life, to ponder, to reconnect, to see their place in the world and to know that even if it takes more years that we like to imagine, magic happens when we least expect it.