What happens to us when life changes in an instant? How do we feel? Shock, grief, loss, disbelief? There is no logic and there is no fathomable reason, but it appears anyway, catching you by astonishment, by total surprise, and the aftershocks of the earthquake of feelings linger on for days, months andeven years. The landscape of your life has changed forever. One small trigger and you feel like you are living it all over again.
Nothing could prepare you for this moment and how you wish you could be given a dial to turn the clock back, to freeze a frame, to undo the result.
One morning, a woman on a 90 something floor of the Twin Towers in New York, on that fateful day, was typing and sending an email. It was 09.44. An ordinary day, she had decided to go into work at 08.30. It was a new job of two weeks. She could have started at 09.00 but had decided to help out that day by going in early. Her husband, with aviation experience, heard a plane’s engine that he knew was too low, followed by an explosion. By 09.46, just two minutes after sending that email, his wife was literally ‘vapourised.’ No body, no bones, not even ash to bury. In those two minutes the normal became the hideous nightmare nobody wants to hear. Your loved one has died, a life of just 40 years extinguished in an instant.
How can anyone make any sense of that? I remember a GP at the hospital where I worked at the time after the Lockerbie bombing of December 21st 1988 say any one of us could be dead within the next 30 minutes. I have never forgotten that statement.
Last month, it was an ordinary day when a ping came from my phone. I read the message and couldn’t believe in what I was reading. Someone whom my late friend Geoff in the Philippines knew daughter had died, suddenly aged 22. How could the universe deal this card to a family full of love and gratitude for life? A family committed to faith, God and prayer. It made no sense. It sat heavy on me all day and still does, and with the family’s permission I can write about it here in this blog post.
Juliana, epitomised her beautiful name. Having graduated last year from a four-year college degree in Civil Law the doors of her future lay wide open. Then suddenly the tropical Dengue Fever shut that door with a bang that no-one saw coming. She was an artist too and I saw many of her paintings.
I got to know Rose her mother, on Social Media, after my friend Geoff’s death (the family were neighbours where he lived for several months of the year).
I was inspired by her mother’s digital creative ability, her optimism as she showed us her photography and lovely positive affirmations, her grace and the total love and commitment she instilled daily into her two children: John, now graduated as an architect and recently married on November 4th and Juliana. I asked the Universe how could you deal this kind of card to a woman who only ever called in love, gratitude and abundance?
Then two weeks ago we heard of one ordinary evening train turned into a horror ride as people are stabbed and the train making an emergency stop at Huntington, a Fenland town my family knows so well, having lived there for a few years.
So, what is the point of the post, its central message? Seven months ago, an innocent decision, a sequence of events led to the unexpected on my own doorstep. My blogging ceased overnight, the words frozen, suspended and left dangling like a flimsy thread within a piece of string. That piece of string is still a tight rope I walk on and will be doing so for at least the next five years. Nothing is certain, and my life can only be planned on a day or weekly basis.
During this time, I have learnt valuable lessons. My friends have been rocks of gold of which I have clung to. They have given me hope and a lifeline, their patience and care have been totally remarkable and kind. I have been shown blessings and an insight few may see.
Worry is futile, planning is fine, but goals and decisions can take a different and twisted path. We can never truly see what is around the corner and maybe it’s a good thing we can’t. I have learnt that all we have is this moment, this day and that is a blessing. Trivial things seem absurd and hard days still feel like blessings because I am still living and breathing in this world.
We can turn pain into purpose. The husband of the women killed on 9/11 went on to do amazing work with the widows left behind on that day. He discovered more men died than women and that over 1,800 of the later needed urgent help and support. For Rose, I know that her daughter will live on in countless ways, not yet known or seen, but I have no doubt she will because her mother is an exceptional woman and the rest of her family equally so. I have always wanted to meet them in the Philippines. If I ever get to Australia, and on my return home, I really hope I can visit them.
For myself, a relative stranger, where I was temporarily staying for three months gave a notebook and coaster to me with the words from Jeremiah 29: 11 because she felt she needed to.
‘ For I know the plans, I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future.’
The words struck me because I know what I want my plans to be, as yet to be unfolded, as yet unformed and unseen. It felt like a clear message that everything was going to be OK..
So let me leave you with this lovely face of an angel. Let her teach you that beauty can’t be extinguished even in death, that legacy lives, that memories made are never lost, that personalities persist long after physical perishing, that light always glows brighter and more passionate than the darkness, because we inject the light with love that darkness can never erode, nor its flame ever be extinguished.
In the trauma of these last few months, how comforting it is to be back writing with you again.
In memory of Juliana M Florino born 29th August 2003 and died October 13th, 2025.
May you rest in peace, but your life lives on forever in our hearts.
(Photographs and words posted with kind permission of the family.)
A new poem for you to consider and how these words can be applied to many contexts. Inspired by an event and conversations, I wrote this poem in five minutes.
“Life is for living, not for quitting
Life is truly yours, not for fitting
Into someone else’s idea of how it should look
Life is for uplifting, not for hitting
Your own face when it doesn’t work
Life is not about splitting yourself in half
Life isn’t all about sitting either
But just turning up and not necessarily winning.
When something needs to be done, do it.
When someone needs your love, show it.
When someone needs a friend, be it.
But above all be a friend to yourself.
Because without that
You life will never feel like a life that is fulfilling or forgiving
When things are messed up
chucked up
mixed up
TRUST that it will all work out in the end
As intended
All in unison
Blended, not offended
PEACE! “
As writers don’t sabotage your growth, write. As crafters craft, as photographers, take pictures. As walkers, walk and as healers heal. As carers, care and as makers, make. As musicians play and as gardeners, garden the seeds of today for tomorrow’s harvest, because it is all good and worthwhile and ENOUGH.
You are enough. TODAY ALWAYS.
That’s my message for this week. Plain and simple and getting back after a break for work involving the new tax year, of exciting plans and new moves. Also, been painting a daughter’s kitchen:))
Until next time, when I will be talking about therapy the colour of blue. Interested to hear my thoughts then see you next week.
When you think of water how does it make you feel?
The audio this week, I hoped would be a video but I am still learning how to place them here within a certain bandwidth. Sadly, it had to be converted to MP3 only and you can hear my little grandson in the background enjoying the splashing water. I hope the sound is at least calming.
( Mother’s Day Visit to Gooderstone Water Garden, near Oxborough, Norfolk)
When I imagine water, I hear babbling streams and brooks. I think of the countryside, Yorkshire, The Lakes and can imagine myself sitting by a stream just pausing for a bit. We create ponds and water features in our gardens. It plays its tune to us as we soak up the summer sun. Eating al-fresco with a glass of something cool in hand, as water plays along with the outside orchestra of birds, trickling along without rhythmical hesitations.
Like drinks, water quenches our thirst in more ways than we realise. It does more than hydrate our cells, but appears to replenish our souls. The liquid of life that was a crucial element of when time began. To not have water is the end of life itself.
(The Beach at Corton, Lowestoft, Suffolk)
I was born in Lowestoft and the picture of water there for me was crashing waves, foam and tossing seas. The foghorn with November’s mist, the towering light house and the sound of seagulls all around. Often it was windy by the seashore, and I recall walks on Pakefield cliffs on a Sunday afternoon as a child with my parents. Little did I realise then, but I enjoyed walking by the sea and still do. I often want to take myself there after a stressful time or busy period. A place to inhale the sea air, like a medical nebuliser, expanding my lungs and clearing out the dust from my veins.
Many people turn to water when they need some escape or distraction. When we feel a little battled by life’s events or when we want to de-stress. Sports such as fishing, wild swimming, sailing and paddleboarding are pursuits where we can feel restful, even whilst engaged in a physical activity.
I live on the edge of the Fens and drive past rivers and waterways where boats and water stretch into the distance and I wonder where they are heading to. An untravelled place in time, the explorer in me wants to know more and the urge to see where the river bends is strong. The Fens were reclaimed from the water and the landscape, once boggy marshes, makes this corner of my world, now drained, so fertile for farmers.
( A local outing to a Lavendar Farm, Heacham, Norfolk Caley Mill)
For me, I enjoy seeing water and hearing its sounds. It has an integral part in the way nature plays out. I have enjoyed being by it, standing near a water’s edge taking photographs such as this one and pondering life as I see its shine, physical reflections and movement.
However, I cannot swim and am afraid when it comes to water which is a shame. I have tried to learn to swim many times and have never managed to conquer the phobia. Walking on dry land makes me feel safer.
For others though, there is a fearlessness about water which is inspiring and poses the question.
Why do you think water can be so freeing?
From my perspective, It isn’t constricted by time, or people’s demands. It goes where it wants to, uninhibited and not afraid. I just wonder when we persue water hobbies do we feel the same? The freedom of being in the open air, the tingling splash on our faces, feeling the breeze, the gliding movement, the pulling forces and the push against the flow.
Water can be our friend when we know how to work with it and respect its power. We also know the devastating effects climate change is having on our world and the heartache it has caused when people’s homes are flooded, damaging land, destroying crops and wildlife.
But let’s leave water though in a positive light. People care about this precious resource and feel invested in it. Not just wanting to spend their time being around it, but also caring about how it is managed in a sound environmental way. We have seen lobbying and campaigning for our privatised water companies to clean up its act as far as making our waterways and rivers cleaner and safer, and locally we have individuals highlighting the need to protect our chalk streams which we are lucky to have in my part of the world.
( A stranger just enjoying the water at lowestoft)
I would love to know from anyone where water is an essential part of their recreational life and how it affects them? Why they like to be near it, or in it? And how does water feel different to those of us who feel safer on dry land?
I shall be taking a week’s break from blogging as the end of the tax year requires some business work. I shall be back in two weeks.
After last week’s mammoth read (thank you to everybody who read my reflections on six months of journaling through autumn and winter and stayed to the end with helpful comments), I have chosen this week to keep things very simple.
The photos here are from my early morning weekend walk which was a lovely, frosty spring morning. I even saw deer in the distance. I’m glad I get up early for these and meet my local walking friend for the one hour and 20 mins of chat and steps.
A new step for me:
Following on, as to why walking has helped me get through the autumn and winter, I have decided to place here my poem, which was submitted for the annual poetry competition of the Happiful magazine. I’ve never dared enter a poetry competition, fearing the disappointment of the 99% inevitable rejection but I’m glad I entered for two reasons:
Because I was serious about writing something I knew would be valuable and doing the best work I could, raising my own bar. I spent considerable time on the form, and flow after the first draft.
To experience the feeling that no, this wasn’t good enough in a judge’s mind, but that was OK. It does not invalidate it, or make it not an intelligent creative piece of work.
I was so touched at how Happiful (a magazine for positive mental health) replied to every one of us, not with some cliché answer but with a well-crafted thought-out response, offering encouragement and hope, saying that many of the entries would go on to find homes of their own.
We were told that there were over 900 of us, and it was a very difficult job to select the one winner and runners up because of the high quality of the work submitted from many of the entries. This felt so genuine, not just to make us feel better. I hope mine was one of them and it has found a home here.
I look forward to reading these in the April edition to see how they differed from mine and what made them stand out to be the ‘ chosen’ ones.
The brief was to write about something that benefits your mental health:
This poem as you can see is a walk through the seasons and how indeed walking is my saving grace. I wanted the poem to build up in strength, from the autumn and the already dulling of my spirit as winter is anticipated, to the uplifting energy of the spring and summer.
To convey the feeling of flow and movement within each stanza as I walked through the months, keenly observing what was around me, and how each season offered some medicine to help my overall mental well being. The guidelines were that it had to be no more than 25 lines, minus the title. Here it is:
Walking is my Saving Grace
Autumn’s light fading, oh how I dread,
the approaching winter, legs full of lead.
But autumn colours beckon me
to put on my boots and venture out.
Golden hues and skeleton leaves of lace,
Oh, walking is my saving grace.
Winter’s light jading, nature’s sleep begins,
the pressing grey, the chilling winds.
But winter silence encourages me
to put on my boots and venture out.
Diamond dew and frosty touch to face,
Oh, walking is my saving grace.
Spring’s light calling, the dawn of song,
the heralding chorus, new life budding strong.
How spring charms entice me
to put on my boots and venture out.
My gaze is sharp and quickens pace
Oh, walking is my saving grace.
Summer light uplifting, soft foliage green,
the blooming flowers, nature’s pastel scene.
How summer emboldens me
to put on my boots and venture out.
For movement is good, a compelling case
Oh, walking is my saving grace.
@HelenMarshall November 2024
Emailing this entry to a friend and fellow writer, including poems, I wondered if the final line should have said:
‘ How walking is my saving grace to give it a final impact but breaking the pattern. I’m awaiting feedback.
I posted this on my Substack account earlier and it’s certainly been the most successful post to date there and I currently have 32 subscribers in about two and half months. It’s good to see the people who have identified with this work and re-stacked it ( shared) with comments and thoughts.
It’s a lovely community and I’m really enjoying it over there. I’m keeping this site going because of holding the domain name, and for all the other pages/references and links on this wordpress site which I don’t have on that other platform. I have put months of work into this here and my few friends who read this are not on Substack. I’m happy for the two in run in partnership with each other.
What’s next:
To follow on from this week, next week is about the word rhythm and the rhythm of life. Given poetry is central to this word, it’s another good lead on from this post. I started next week’s audio today and that was special because of what happened after the recording. Come back to find out next week. It was a great short walk.
Coping with Autumn and Winter- a six month journaling experience.
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( The audio is not a transcript but accompanying thoughts for this post and why I did this)
The following in Italics are small extracts from my journal following these last two seasons. I struggle with both, and by writing an account it set me on a path to discover any patterns of behaviours, or triggers (positively or negatively) influencing how I felt during these these times.
As I was writing I was consciously and unconsciously putting systems in place to help me, as I discovered how I was feeling. I’m glad I did this and now wish to share the main points as I wrote about the changing seasons, the weather, nature what was happening and my mental health. These extracts are in note form and are not intended to be grammatically perfect.
31st August: Blue flowers in fields against Elderflowers and red berries. Summer and autumn are starting to merge. A lot to look forward to. Some nerves about being back teaching tomorrow after a month off from the Farm.
3rd September- Cloud, damp, everything has suddenly changed, change here too. Work stress, internet down at home, mood lower already. Tinnitus up, need to stay calm and steady.
20th September- we had a full harvest moon. The bush outside my house seems redder with the berries. Mood is restored as calmer house resumes. Already starting to plan for Christmas.
Revisting these early entries have already given me some thoughts about why doing this exercise has been so helpful. The emerging patterns of feelings what triggers any stress and why do I find this time so challenging?
Some people love winter, but for me, it seems heavy, and when weighted down by external events, it feels like you are bashing against an increasing cold wind and barrier. Traditionally, this has always been the most worrying time, the Christmas bills, heating, the cost of Christmas itself, various birthdays and the cars which had to be serviced, taxed and insured weighed heavy on my mind.
At the end of September, I went on a canal boat retreat and the attendees wrote about this transition of autumn through to winter. I journaled about how I felt about it in the past, compared to how I was attempting to feel differently about it now. It was a lovely day of deep writing and travel along the river at Ely. My daughter and I attended and it was great to connect with like-minded women.
Retreat day:
Autumn past:
“The fall of the leaves shows the darkness of that bare place, branches cut, barren and lifeless. I dreaded the clocks going back. It felt like I was going backwards with them. Time sat heavy and foreboding of the winter ahead.”
Autumn present:
I don’t know how it changed. It started from that golden ball of light and liberation within. The lighter self, the clouds of fog and depression gone, and it was like the shutters from my eyes were blown away to renewal, not death and darkness but harvest and hope.
This showed me how I associated the winter and the dark days ahead with my past depression notably occurring in 1999 and 2010. I went on to write that this season (autumn) should be about preparing and self-care for what lay ahead, taking stock and harvesting all the bounty of the spring and summer months.
“ I stand in the forest and see the golden greens and browns of effort and energy in front of me and know that this autumn is not an end but only a time to evaluate and to see what has worked. The soil is enriched with my leaves of activity, returning to the earth ready to sit quietly through the winter months, ready to step forth into the spring with a newness, a bud, a flower ready to begin again.”
I was full of buoyed-up optimism at this point. After the retreat, I write of seeing the Northern Lights in October, of the mists coming, and how the light continued to change in November. I planted cyclamen with their bright colours to see from my chair in the lounge overlooking our small garden, and booked a wreath-making workshop for Christmas. Something to look forward to seemed the way to get through this period. My daughter who finds winter equally stressful was doing similar things.
17th November- Harder- illness soon arrives with the autumn colours.
(Having a small toddler in our family now meant that we were being bathed in childhood germs).
Hand, Foot and Mouth wiped out most of November and lingering colds, though I was staying strong and virus-free up to this point elevated by Vitamin D, Zinc and Magnesium from my Joint supplements. My daughter’s plans for little activities to look forward to were largely wiped out from her calendar with quiet resignation. The wreath making workshop never happened and we did ours at home for my daughter’s 30th birthday.
26th November- Feeling like I have come out of a mini tunnel.
I had been to Oxford to see my aunt and as I entered the door back home, I didn’t come out the other side until now.
8th December- Possibly taking up a weather journal next year.
I had connected with a local village on Facebook and a guy was writing a weather report each day. I read and commented every day, showing my appreciation and encouragement, knowing what it feels like to write into thin air for no one to comment or possibly even look. My roots of loving the weather returned no matter what it threw at us.
This was a new activity. New activities I realised helped me. Husband says I’m happiest when I have something on the go. I also wrote:
“ Christmas, you go through this with high expectations only to see the hope dwindle with the light. Early Christmas planning is key.”
15th December- I take up poetry again after witnessing a glorious sunset. “ A Sunset by Little Thetford.” A small snippet.
“December midline and already fading
The Winter Solstice soon
Turns nature’s wheel again
Shifting time,
I move on.”
18th December- The first snowdrops in the garden. This winter has gone quickly so far.
3rd January weekend away with my lovely friend Sue to see at the ROH Cinderella in London. Pure magic and what a wonderful two days away.
8th January. There has been frost, rain and winds. Birds finally returned to the bird feeders today after hanging them up on Boxing Day and waiting.
The new term of teaching begins. Vanessa Thomas’ Mindful Narrowboat has been a beautiful find. (YouTube) Her journals were being bought for my birthday.
I started to feed the birds again and going out and recording winter bird songs. The robin I can now identify and the house sparrow. I can pick out a Tit but not know which one yet.)
18th January- A weather journal started since the New Year and a gratitude journal.
I had started morning walks and this was helping me want to get up and get on. The gratitude journal comprised one main event of the day and three things to be thankful for. Research says it’s powerful but it felt quite functional at first. It grows on you and the feeling increases as to the effect of it. Both are ongoing and I’m committed to completing them for the year.
25th January. Had a nice birthday. Quiet, spent at home. Susan and her husband came to visit. We had cake and I made soup. It was just what I wanted as I had had a big 60th birthday party last year. I went out for a walk and the sky was blue.
9th February
Illness, virus, hard, SED feel it in its grip, sitting no good, combined with malaise and grey, comfort in words, reading and writing. I’m an armchair hiker and traveller ( Reading Salt Path, plus sequel). I need to go to the nature reserve again. I feel its call. Trees for me are a healing place. Looking out of the window, there have been mists. The time has felt like a tunnel again. Only outside and fresh air can help.
14th February
Antibiotics (tonsillitis been ill since 27th Jan), blue skies this afternoon – the light is returning both physically and mentally. We are nearly out of this tunnel. Being outside and walking are two factors that I shall carry with me as remedies for surviving winter, even if the weather is terrible.
Had hit a terrible low by this point and my brain I felt was failing. Even got the name wrong on one of my substacks posts about my dog. I was forgetting things, stewing about the past, ruminating and this felt like a deep crisis. I turned to meditation, prayers, breathing and simply acknowledging past grieves and regrets. There were powerful conversations at home.
20th February. I walk Paige (daughter’s greyhound) at 17.30 and it was still twilight. Real progress with the light now. It’s becoming warmer too. (I don’t think it was but maybe I felt warmer as the end of winter was fast approaching.) The tulip heads are showing more in the planted tub outside. Tomorrow, I walk.
28th February
“ So we end this section here after six months of observations of autumn, through winter and out the other side. I shall do it again next autumn and winter to make any comparisons (given any changes). The daffodils are out and blue skies, The birds were singing at 10.00 am.
28th February continues
“Recording here has been a useful anchor point as this winter, with so much illness, has been the toughest winter yet. Spring really does pave the way for change, hope and a new tomorrow.
Tonight is the planetary alignment.”
Reflections:
At the end of this record, I was sitting on a swing in a local park breathing the air saying we have done this. A friend had sent a song for me to listen to. I smiled and thought my friends are such treasures. I would not swap my life for anyone’s because I have these people in my world. My family of course are vital but I want to acknowledge here how friends really are a lifeline.
Having read this fourth draft back, I realise that I was putting in place further strategies and systems as each new challenge or feeling arose.
My brain health has become a priority over anything else. I have placed an emphasis on the physical but now this shifts.
More sleep, I go to bed regularly and earlier and the morning walks I have noticed help me sleep better.
Move, really move more. I have started some indoor exercise on YouTube to old 1970’s 80’s music. Exercise has got to be something you enjoy, otherwise you just don’t do it.
Less screens: did some research on this and my grey matter and hippocampus have clearly shrunk due to 15 years of phone and screen time. I am saying wrong words I’ve noticed called ‘slip of the tongue’ and stress can do this. Cognitively I have lost a lot of confidence in my ability to process things.
Truly, I have even been quite paranoid about early dementia but I don’t fit the early warning signs, apart from what I have just mentioned. I’m a high-functioning individual but running a self-employed teaching business has meant 24/7 hustle and effort since 2018 and I am tired. I realise I have been close to burnout and I know what care responsibilities mean. I am also slowly doing some more teacher training to keep the numbers in my classrooms buoyant and fresh with new ideas and improved teaching methodology. My life like many of us is a juggling act.
No daytime TV. It’s on here for hours at a time for my husband but I am not being sucked into it.
I have been worried about walking in isolated places on my own and tend to stick to safe streets, but these are becoming boring around my housing estate. I want to be out in the wild. I tried to sell my little commute bike but had no luck. Maybe that was meant to be. The bike is being oiled and I plan to bike out a bit, walk and then get back on it again and bike off should I feel the need to. I think it will give me more security and I can go out further quicker, especially on workdays when time is less.
If I can next year, I want to take a proper winter holiday with warmth and sun. The endless grey at times has been so hard.
Big observation: Winter and Christmas are not the same. They are together but they both need to be dealt with separately. They are both stresses in different ways. Recognising the need to get early Christmas planning was a lifesaver for this last one and it will be started even earlier this year( the commercial aspect to it) which I hate. This will leave the way clear to just deal with winter as it unfolds, plus any spiritual celebrations.
Markers and rituals; Turning my seasonal photos over in their picture frame and my picture of nature’s wheel have felt grounding.
So work in progress. Has anything jumped out for you here? I would love to know. One thing that jumped out for me is how many times I have used the word tunnel.
If you have struggled with this last six months or experience Seasonal Effective disorder , I would really encourage you to do this. I have gained so much from this experience to move forward for next time. For now Spring is here and I am so glad.
Full circle, I am in Oxford again and taking a break next week. I shall be back here on Wednesday the 19th March.
Following on from last week’s post, I have decided to continue this theme of what it means to be a pilgrim, and why I think many of us could be one, even if we have never made a connection with the word to ourselves.
So, firstly what does this word mean? Before I dive straight into the Oxford Online Dictionary, I’m going to pause and write my own definition and then see how this translates to the formal linguistic definition.
Pilgrimage- my definition:
To go on a walk of intention to a set destination for the purpose of a spiritual encounter.
For the literal definition here it is: Note, I haven’t taken the first definition in this link if you should want to look at the reference but this one because I think that’s what most people would agree on.
“ A trip, often a long one, made to a holy place for religious reasons.”
I have quoted here The National Trust’s description which I think gives a richer meaning of what it means to be a pilgrim.
“A pilgrimage is a devotional practice consisting of a prolonged journey, often undertaken on foot or horseback, toward a specific destination of significance. It is an inherently transient experience, removing the participant from his or her home environment and identity. The means or motivations in undertaking a pilgrimage might vary, but the act, however performed, blends the physical and the spiritual into a unified experience.”
A brief history of the pilgrim:
We think of pilgrims as walkers to specific religious buildings or places undertaken by both Christians and Muslims. For the purposes of this post, I mention a few of the most popular destinations in the UK, not because the walks to Mecca and the Muslim faith are not equally important, but because I draw from my own Christian experiences and historical interests. The picture below is one I took on a walk at Spilsby in the Lincolnshire Wolds in 2021.
Often, these are long journeys with a set path, resting at various intervals along the way. The last reference mentions the 12th Century in the UK as a Golden Age of pilgrimages. They span over centuries and are a focal point for people seeking miracles, redemption, the forgiveness of sins, and prayerful encounters with a divine Deity. Henry VIII visited the Slipper Chapel twice with his first wife Catherine of Aragon leaving money and lighting candles at Walsingham.
For me, I love the Anglican shrine at Walsingham. A place I crave when I seek peace, and quiet and I often take the Holy Spring water there and write my own prayer requests and light a candle. Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries from 1536 robbed us of many precious religious sites such as the Abbey at Walsingham, though I firmly believe King Henry never left his Catholic faith to embrace the Reformation during this period.
Other Popular Pilgrimage walks and destinations in the UK:
The first one that springs to mind is Canterbury Cathedral, a place I have longed to visit again. I remember my parents taking me as a child and I distinctly remember the place where Thomas Beckett was slain by the knights of Henry II and how the Guide removed his hat in respect to the cannonised Archbishop of Canterbury. You can read a fuller historical account here.
And of course, as a lover of the Northumberland landscape and who could happily retire there to higher ground, away from the exposed landscape to flooding where I live, we cannot forget Lindisfarne, a place well known for miracles and its association with St Cuthbert.
Closer to home we have the famous Peddars Way where Pilgrims would rest on their way to Walsingham. It dates back to AD 61 when it was built by the Romans across East Anglia. It runs from Knettishall Health in Suffolk to the North Norfolk Coast near Hunstanton. Peddar comes from the Latin word ‘Pedester’ which means on foot and is part of the Norfolk Coast Path National Trail.
A local resting place- The Red Mount King’s Lynn:
Built between 1483 and 1485 this octagonal chapel was built, not only to bring trade into the town but as a resting place for pilgrims on their way to Walsingham. Made of Tudor brick it’s shaped with a buttress at each corner and is open to the public on National Heritage Days. I couldn’t help but think how cold it must have been, even though I saw a small fireplace inside. The walk of the Pilgrim was certainly a hard one.
Our travels:
Can we take this word and create a more modern secular definition? I think we can.
I know of friends who take off seeking family ancestry, churches, and buildings in connection with their own place in history, or people who walk for spiritual comfort, myself included, and who travel to set destinations for intentions of nourishment for physical and mental healing and rest. I feel these are all pilgrimages in some form, even if there isn’t a religious building at the end of the road.
And forgive me for mentioning ‘The Salt Path’ by Raynor Winn yet again, but wasn’t that an incredible pilgrimage to find forgiveness, healing, and hope, even if the walkers didn’t confess to any scriptural belief set? If you haven’t read my blog post book review, then take a look, you will find it listed on the right of this blog site, if you go to this site’s home page.
Furthermore, I have heard on TV programs about walks where walkers have found the church door open for rest and to find a quiet space. This is personally why I like to visit them and my retreats are not only to Walsingham but to the Lincolnshire Wolds where I see this as a very special place unspoiled, wild, and liberating. I come away totally restored.
In conclusion:
Are you a pilgrim? Could you be seeking your own pilgrimage?
I hope this blog post has given you some insight into this subject that maybe you too would like to take a rucksack and some time out to walk on a journey of discovery, and an end point where you feel refreshed and fulfilled. You may discover something more, or about yourself, than just a landmark at the end of the road.
Hello, I'm back, What's next and a book everyone should read.
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This audio is not a transcript of this post but a compliment to it. The images are mine and while they are not taken along the Southwest coast of the UK, I felt they reflected the mood of what is written here which discusses The Salt Path, by Raynor Winn. Do read on as this is a book everyone should know about.
An extract from the prologue.
“We ran back down the beach, the swash landing far above the shelf and rushing over the sand towards us.
Wait for the backwash then run to the other side of the channel and up the beach.
I was in awe. This man, who only two months earlier had struggled to put his coat on without help, was standing on a beach in his underpants holding an erected tent above his head and a rucksack on his back saying, run!
Run, run, run!
We splashed through the water with the tent held high and climbed desperately up the beach as the swash pushed at our heels and the backwash tried to push us out to sea. Stumbling through the soft sand, our boots brimming with soft water, we dropped the tent down at the foot of the cliff.”
The Salt Path by Raynor Winn, Page two.
The beginning:
I can’t remember exactly when or where I first heard about this book, but it had been on my list as a ‘maybe’ read for quite some time because it clearly was about walking. After Christmas, with book vouchers in my hand, I decided to walk into our new local bookshop and it was there ready and waiting for me to buy.
I read the first 22 pages and stopped, saying to my husband you must read this. For the next week, it was read by him with a speed that astonished me, as much as this couple running to safety on the beach.
My husband, who had not read a book from cover to cover in over twenty years, sat and absorbed every page, like the water soaking into the South Coast sand. I knew then that this non-fiction story was very powerful, even before I properly got to read it myself, because of his reaction and the attention it received. He was transfixed, moved, sometimes nearly to tears, as he told me little snippets, not wanting to spoil the story for me. The couple in this novel embarked on an epic journey, walking the 630-mile Southwest Coastal Path.
So, what is so special about this book?
It can be summarised very simply. This is a tale of unbelievable resilience, determination and bravery in the face of the most extreme storms in life. A couple who had lost a legal business dispute, lost their farming business, their home and their life savings in the space of a week. And when you think circumstances couldn’t get any worse, the husband of the couple was diagnosed with a terminal neuro-degenerative illness.
There was nothing to lose because they had lost almost everything:
With £320 left and a barn rental, which meant they were eligible for £48 a week in tax credits, they bought and packed up in two rucksacks, a tent, two light sleeping bags and some essential provisions.
With limited space in mind, they also bought Paddy Dillion’s book ‘The Southwest Coast Path: from Minehead to South Haven Port,’ a small guidebook, with a waterproof cover and an Ordnance Survey Map.
Raynor describes the day they walked away from twenty years of family life, running from the huge chasm that had been left. All they knew was that they just had to walk, to try to process what had happened, to find themselves again, and all that mattered was that they should just start because what else was there to do?
Did they complete the journey?
Yes, they did but I won’t spoil the story for you, you should read it for yourself. They had to walk it the opposite way around from the guidebook because they started with the easiest section first due to the approaching Winter weather. So, they did have to pause and take a break, and what should have been a few weeks took them a year.
At the end of the book, Raynor writes:
“At last I understood what homelessness had done for me. It had taken every material thing I had and left me stripped bare, a blank page at the end of a partly written book. It had also given me a choice, either to leave that page blank or to keep writing the story with hope. I chose hope”
From part six Edgelanders chapter 21 Salted, page 272.
What does this book tell us?
Firstly, to never underestimate the power of walking, Moth (the man in this story) managed to defy all medical odds and walked the path coming out stronger on the other side. More than a decade later he is still alive and started a new career.
That with resilience, bravery, fortitude and courage you can face the most impossible of circumstances. As they walked, they faced hunger, cold, and immense challenges most of us couldn’t have coped with. As they faced the most gruelling conditions, problems,abuse and setbacks, I could feel my brain physically tighten with the pain of the stories’ grip and felt elated when they had a victory however small. It felt so real within the pages.
How did this book speak to me?
Once I had finished it, I thought, how could I ever complain about anything ever again. That my life and its struggles were nothing in comparison to what these two people faced. However bleak or dark your situation looks you have a choice to be the victim or the victor. And how crucially, out of the empty devastating loss, miracles and new things can grow as lives are reborn and shaped into something amazing.
It taught me about the enormous prejudices homeless people face as they were shunned, walked past and ignored as some people withdrew in fear thinking they were no more than criminals, alcoholics or drug addicts.
The amazing power of two people totally committed to each other and a love that endured everything.
What happened after?
We are now reading the sequel ‘The Wild Silence’. And there is one more ‘Landlines’ where they walked from the Scottish Coast back to Cornwall. What I can say without giving away too many details is that they now champion the plight of homelessness. Raynor writes about nature and wild camping and both participate in charity events to raise money for Corticobasal Degeneration, CBD.
What are we now going to do with our own Salt Path?
Having been so inspired by this story, we want to see this path ourselves. We have booked to go to Cornwall in June staying in St Austell, one location near the path. We won’t be wild camping or homeless and we will have more than £48 spending money for the week. In many ways, I think we will feel shallow that it is too easy for us to stand and stare, taking a short walk (as holidaymakers) given our health complaints.
But, I hope we will come away with the enormity of what they did, the respect and admiration, and maybe we can be a little less fearless ourselves in our own lives and be grateful for each and every day with what we do have. I hope so. I will update you once I have read all three and have been on this trip.
The Salt Path by Raynor Winn is published by Penguin Books, Random House UK, 2019 and is being released as a film this year- the Sunday Times best seller and Costa Book Awards, shortlist.
Finally, I hope the people who treated them badly watch this and see their own character starring back at them and will leave a sobering and humble thought.
When I first had the desire to create this blog, I had to ask myself why I wanted to do it. I knew that this would take time and commitment to write each week. Was my literary offering going to make any real or lasting difference to the way I saw life, got on with my life, and maybe help others to pause to think for a minute about theirs?
Here are some of the main points I have discovered since starting this in April and maybe the odd surprise:
You can produce anything, in spite of the busy and sometimes chaotic life you lead, if you really want to.
Your will and commitment to something matters.
There is always a new way, a different angle when looking at anything.
Small things can often offer the most memory or magic.
That one window into something can often open another door that you were not expecting.
You never know where one action, one chance decision is going to take you. I think of the summer in 2022 when I saw Beth Kempton’s Summer Sanctuary free writing course and thought why not? My inner voice was saying you have no time to do this. My outer voice was saying do it anyway and what a decision which has been so influential.
Life truly is a journey, where each twist and turn connects up to make the path that you had no way of knowing how to put together- it just happened.
Don’t overlook an opportunity but also go with the flow.
Don’t be afraid to try something that maybe doesn’t make sense at the time.
Your habits are everything.
Observe write down- events and experiences. Observations do several things. It helps to ground you when things are tough, and you can look back to learn from them. It can help you slow the mind, calm you down, and help you focus on the things that truly matter to you.
Any regular project worth doing well often takes a huge effort and can get easily derailed if you let other factors get in the way.
Back at the end of the summer, I said I would write in a separate journal over the next six months my travels into winter and out the other side into the spring because I struggle with this time of the year. I have kept it up and am now thinking of going back to my childhood and starting my weather logging again. Something that strangely excites me.
The Big 60 Milestone:
This year, my 60th has been an incredible and overall, a happy year. I started a list of things I wanted to do, have kept going and growing in my career, improved my home substantially with money that I have been proud to earn, worked incredibly hard, and have loved being a grandparent, though that is hard work too. I have created a beautiful space to work in and have lots to be thankful for.
Writing the Next Yeardown:
One practice I do every December (encouraged by business and motivation life coach Fiona Brennan) which I have been doing since 2019 is remarkably powerful. I write out the next year in the present tense about what is going to happen as if it were true. In June, I review and tick off what has happened and in December I do a final tally. You would not believe what comes to pass.
I said this year I was going to win something, though it may not be necessarily money. You would not believe how many competitions that have presented themselves. I have taken part in some of them- so far nothing has come of it, or has it? One thing I have done which I have never done before is to enter a poetry competition last month. The results are out in February. What a miracle it would be to come somewhere. But to me, I have won something already far greater- a belief that I can have a go at anything if I put my mind to it.
Magic and Mystery:
Two other events happened around the same time as this which I felt were hugely significant. Someone, I know felt compelled to send me this when she was crafting. I saw that as a sign.
My aunt had seen some jewellery called Angel Whisperer. She had walked past the shop for six weeks and then one day woke up saying Helen must have this and I have no idea why. She jumped on a bus and thought, if the said pieces are still there it is meant to be. She gave them to me in November during my last Oxford trip. I love the symbol of the wings whispering go on Helen, fly high.
She doesn’t even know about my blog, or even what I write about. How I sometimes feel the presence of angels looking after me and my family. I tried to share a little bit of this with her but she is not of the same mind as me so it’s difficult. I think she understood some of it though.
So, as we approach this season of Christmas maybe magic and mystery can truly happen- one where we can dream and ponder, hope and wonder, be inspired, love, and form a deeper connection with something greater than ourselves that cannot be bought, or won, but can be claimed through the power of belief.
May you have a blessed Christmas and a prosperous and happy New Year.
This blog will take a pause now for a rest in January and where I need to turn my attention to my revised work website. But I’ll return at the end of January with fresh content and new ideas. I am excited about next year and I can’t wait to see what happens next….
Happy Christmas and hope you have the start of a prosperous New Year.
Unfortunately for the third week running, there is no accompanying audio. Life and the awful weather has prevented me from walking alone to record anything. It will be back next week though.
Three events/observations which happened last week.
I listened to a YouTube video by Peter Sage which has completely changed my perspective on gratitude and maybe it was one I was meant to hear. It’s very powerful and if you ever feel like life isn’t great, then please give this a go. It was a big wake-up call for me. Here it is.
Running alongside this was my idea that I wanted to return to one previous post about success and failure as it had touched one reader’s heart. I hope they read this as it might help them to realise just what qualities they truly have.
A difficult conversation.
Reflection:
Bringing these experiences together, I want to go back to the topic of being grateful and a new word resilience and how I am choosing to think differently from even what I had touched upon a week ago.
Point one:
We can all look at what didn’t go well, the decisions not made, the things we allowed to go on for too long, the people we met, the jobs we had, the divorce that happened, the trust that was broken, the disappointment of what if…….
Point two:
We can allow the very close people we are aligned to influence our narrative. They can try to paint our picture of life mirroring what they think their own looks like. The dark colours they choose can impact the finished result of our own picture, should we choose it too? Note, that we can reject this image.
Point three:
We have a chisel in our hand as far as digging up the past. We can mine for the mud or we can chisel for the gold. For out of every negative experience or perceived failure, you can turn the dust into diamonds or the grime into what shimmers, if you dig hard enough with a different attitude. Now you get to decide whether you want to continue to wear the dust or glow in a new light.
From one of those experiences last week, I recalled a time in 2010 when I had to make such a decision, and it was from that moment onwards that drove me forward to where I am today. I think I may have already mentioned it in one of my blog posts and a major driver in everything I do.
So here are some of my examples of where the dust has been reframed into a golden nugget.
Dust: I didn’t get a chance to do most of what I wanted artistically as a child- ballet classes and piano lessons.
Gold: The determination to not give up when I have had the opportunity to do things as an adult. Also, to make those opportunities happen. I have had piano lessons for nearly four years and have found someone who does adult ballet classes, but I have chosen not to do the latter- my choice.
Dust: A very traumatic short first marriage.
Gold: It was from that experience I met Jean who many of my friends know is one of the most important people in my and my family’s life. Incidentally, she is the one who recently connected me to the ballet teacher. This demonstrates how one opportunity can lead to another, or chance encounter. Also, that former marriage taught me great empathy with regard to other people’s experiences of mental health.
Dust: I failed midwifery training and the sequence of events that led to that was brutal. It was a very painful experience of shame, bullying and failure, though I stress I didn’t harm anyone in the process- just for the record.
Gold: From that I left the NHS, not wanting to go back into Nursing which has led me to completely change my career for the better. (See my Story). That dust bowl was one of the best things that ever happened to me.
I could go on. Is there one thing you can reframe in your life?
Rewriting the Story:
We can all choose to tell our story differently by looking at the negatives and asking ourselves what good came out of that experience. What did I learn from it? How has it shaped me into who I am today? Who came into my life as a result of ‘ that’ happening? Believe me, I have been so blessed in so many ways over the years out of adversity.
This shift in thought is not meant to mask the pain, for you to be in denial that it happened or not to acknowledge the deep wrong or injustice that may have happened to you. But instead, you get to choose what you want to actively do with that experience.
The Victim or the Victor:
Either you allow the regrets to squash and consume you, reduce you to dust or use the dust as fuel for the ember that still flickers. To turn that energy and make something that is gold to help yourself, at least, and maybe others.
I’m not saying I am perfect with this. I can still compare myself to others, that voice of victim hood still wants to grab my attention and whisper in my ear:
“Look what they have. Don’t you wish you had a life like that? Why is it they have just had it so easy? Why did I have to go through all this? “
Then you can look at someone else’s Facebook post who is going through a harder time than you and that somehow soothes you that they are having it worse, and that somehow makes you feel better. Both these reactions I think are fundamentally wrong and awful to feel. Ultimately, I switch the thinking and narrative into this.
“I concentrate on my life and how I am shaping it to how I want it to look like. Crucially what do I have to do to make this happen? No one else is going to do that for me. It’s my responsibility.”
Avoid what brings you down:
I avoid as much as possible depressing news and scrolling through endless social media posts of comparisons. Crucially I have realised I don’t want to feed the same negative feeling in others by putting out to the world what I’m doing. OK, I like photography and enjoy posting holiday pictures as anyone else, but I am just more mindful of what reaction that might trigger in others less fortunate.
My attention is turned to a question. How can my work within the English language industry help others? I look outside of myself more and within the inner dialogue there is less self-absorption and more contribution. This is my driver and which propels me forward, even when I have my ‘down’ days.
This doesn’t mean that my life is all about sacrifice and just living for others. In fact, it needs to have even more self-care and a bit of indulgence. It certainly needs more fun. I don’t know how to have fun, as my life has been so serious for all sorts of reasons. It’s that balance again. Next year, I want to carve out more space, silence, free time and me getting to choose what happens next.
Ultimately, it’s all about empowerment as well as being grateful for the big and little things in life. And when I doubt myself, or have had a particularly hard or stressful time, my words that steady my hand to keep going and keep digging are these:
“Remember just how far you have come!”
Resonate with any of it, or do you have a different angle on life? I would love to know.
This photo was taken at a Christmas tree festival in Fakenham some years ago.
December is a strange month for me. It’s a month of contrasts and contradictions. One half of my brain says it should be a time of excitement as Christmas is coming and I love seeing decorative houses, lights shining and Christmas trees. My dad has always loved Christmas, and I enjoyed taking him around the garden centres full of festive foliage and cheer. It is an activity I shall always cherish. The little Christmas tree he bought us is always on our second-floor window.
But there is also a bleak and dark side of this month for me. Firstly, of course the weather, cold often grey and wet with the dark nights and the shortest days. I am a person who loves the lightness of a spring day. Darkness and cold remind me of the days of depression and a mind full of foggy treacle. And then there is the rush and expectation, the shopping, the spending and the preparation for Christmas and the weight of just getting through it all.
Of course, there is the traditional side of the Christian Christmas- the carol services, Advent wreaths and Christingle service—the Christian message of Christ’s birth and the Star of Bethlehem. I do believe in the Historical Jesus. There is too much evidence to deny that Christ existed. When I can I try to travel to Walsingham to the Anglian Shrine just to sit in the peace of that place at this time of the year and just forget about all the noise and responsibilities.
I don’t want to enter into too much discussion about the sensitivity of religion as I respect people of all faiths but while I believe that such a person existed my idea of a God is not of a ‘man’ in the sky looking over us. I believe God is everywhere, in the trees and in the air. God is energy for me that we can align with, and tap into, where we can enter a state of physical presence and where prayers are answered by tapping into the Laws of Attraction and Vibration. These laws are science-based and are ones that Einstein believed in.
I have digressed somewhat so I will come back to this blog post’s main message. This year, especially as November sprung some surprises, early planning of Christmas has been a lifesaver and up to this point a lot more manageable. Christmas budgets were set and saved for since September and at the time of writing only two more presents are left to buy.
There is a downsizing to this part of the year as well. There is an intentional aspect of care in how people should be thanked and who should be contacted. Rather than a quick message on a Christmas card, long-distance relatives (on my husband’s side) will be phoned. The menu for Christmas Eve and Day has already been decided upon. For several years, my husband and I forwent presents, making sure others had theirs when money was tight, but this year there will be something under the tree chosen by us for each other. Last year, there was nothing and that felt a bit sad and sparse.
I am really enjoying Beth Kempton’s Calm Christmas Podcast, easily found on Spotify, Instagram of Facebook. It comes out every Thursday and I’m looking forward to her Winter Sanctuary writing course which begins on December the 28th.
So far, I am managing reasonably well. Let’s see how I feel by Boxing Day.
