Scars

As I started running, I knew I could do it. With each stride getting longer and longer, I picked up momentum until I passed the point of no return.
The fence wasn't even that high, and the section I'd chosen to hurdle over was lower than the rest due to some of the neglected wires coming apart. As my foot touched down for the final time before the leap, something didn't feel quite right. I guess the relentless downpour that morning had changed the ground upon which I ran. With a slip of the foot, my body left the ground and began to sail over the wire fence. Maybe I would clear it after all...
18 stitches and 24yrs later, I still have my memento of that journey.
There is a place on my left bicep that my little niece has affectionately named 'the soft bit'. She loves to touch it and says it feels like a butterfly's wing. Even though I was too young to remember the accident, I still get used as a cautionary tale for the kids to stay away from boiling water.
Throughout our lives, things happen to leave us with scars. Some are very easy to spot, and others, only visible on the inside. Whether they come from a leap of faith or a broken heart, these experiences change us forever, never to be the same again. But that's ok. Our scars are just a reminder of how strong we really are.

First

Walking out into early morning, the sky, still a sleepy blue, begins to wake. It is literally freezing this morning. At some point during the night, whilst I was fast asleep, the first few flakes of snow fell silently to earth. The light bouncing off the crisp whiteness bathes me in its glistening glow. And then I hear it, I feel it...The sensation that suddenly floods my body with utter joy; snow crunching and compacting under my feet. Being one of my secret pleasures in life, I begin to smile as I take a deep in-breath of air and watch as a cloud of warmth leaves my body and vanishes just as quickly. 

With the realisation that this is the first snow of the year, I begin to think about all the other firsts in my life; the first time I came to this bustling city, alone...the first time I sat on a plane and watched the ground drift away...the first time I ate gelato...the first kiss...the first time I found love and the first time I lost it. 
Life is littered with firsts and, as constantly changing as the world is, that will never change. There are endless opportunities for new beginnings everywhere, and as I continue on my journey, I suddenly feel excited for all the firsts that are yet to come.

Excess baggage

I settle down onto the warm concrete ledge and wheel my bag closer in between my legs. As I lean forward to rest my arms upon it, a gust of wind whistles around the corner, up the steps, past the coffee shop and smashes into my face, forcing me to involuntarily close my eyes for a moment before continuing its journey towards the ticket hall and beyond. It is windy this afternoon despite the presence of blazing sun.
With my chin resting on my arms, I watch as people weave in and out of each other in a tangled dance of bodies and bags. It is fascinating.
And my mind begins to wander...I am catapulted back to the last time I stood in this station, surrounded by a sea of people and am instantly struck by associations.
As we navigate our way through life's twists and turns, inevitably, events can leave us with emotional baggage. Sometimes, the weight is so minimal, we barely notice it. And other times, it can feel like we are carrying around a big, old house with absolutely no idea of how to get rid of it.
Every day holds a new lesson for us and the challenge is to take the good from the bad and leave the rest behind...And if we are lucky enough, we might just have people in our life who will help us unpack...

Sticks and stones

I didn't really see it coming at first. It arrived like a bolt out of the blue. The thing that first registered was the dull thud as the fist slammed into my face. Shockwaves suddenly rushed around my body like a fiery electrical storm. Adrenaline began to pump as I held back the tears. They would not get to see them today, they didn't deserve them. And so I fought them back harder than I had ever done before. Names continued to fly at me and echoed around my mind. Upon seeing our teacher striding across the school playground, the bullies fled and I suddenly found myself standing alone once again; saved by the dinner bell.
Growing up, we are all told about sticks and stones, but the part about names never hurting us has never quite rung true. I, like most people on this planet, know that they can absolutely hurt...deeply.
Sometimes people can say wounding things. Sometimes they sting momentarily and sometimes, the effects can last a lifetime.
But underneath everything, when someone throws something hurtful our way, it is never really about us to begin with. They always reveal much more about the other person and once we realise this, it makes it easier for us to forgive and move on.
So when you think you're not special enough or good looking enough or clever enough or thin enough, I am here to tell you that you are! You are perfectly amazing just the way you are and there is not a single person on this entire planet that is identical to you. No one!

April showers

As the darkening clouds churn above and quickly expand, I know what is coming.

Feeling the gusty wind pick up to send the white blossom dancing around me like confetti, all the hairs on my body stand up to greet the change. That familiar scent hangs in the air; a mixture of damp, woodland foliage and floral cardboard. Remembering how the sun had tenderly stroked my hair this afternoon, I quicken my pace along the tree lined street towards home.

I start to think about our beautiful season that has returned once again with a pile of delicately wrapped gifts stashed under her arms and a little surprise. I have missed this old friend.

Spring always fills me with optimism and hope - a breath of fresh air to carry us along our journey. It is the season to forgive and forget, to let go and grow.

I smile as I close my eyes and feel the first few drops of cool spring rain splash onto my face and run down my neck. The heavens open and in less than 3 seconds I am soaked through, but it doesn’t matter one bit. Spring is back!

The naughty step

Right, that’s it! Go and sit on the naughty step and have a long, hard think about what you’ve done!

Okay so while we are sitting here for a bit I wanted to ask you something. Have you been here before? I have. Many times! Not for refusing to eat my greens or for being cheeky or even for not tidying my room (the floordrobe I have is a walk-in by the way). The step I am talking about is the place we go to voluntarily to punish ourselves. The space in which the internal monologue throws all the shoulda, woulda, coulda’s in our face and tells us how stupid we were. We mull it over until our head hurts. All of that self flagellation leaving deep red marks on our backs and conscience.

So when will we give ourselves permission to get up off the step and forgive ourselves? Crime and time done! Finito!

It seems that out of habit the naughty step has become our home from home. Like a self-imposed prison of guilt which we have refurbished to make the whole beating ourselves up experience more comfortable.

We miss out on so much by looking back at things we may have said or done. If we can’t make things right, then it’s time to draw a line under it, move on and vow never to do that again and congratulate ourselves for being one step closer to becoming a better person with a more open heart.

Right, times up. You may get off the naughty step and come back into the room. All is forgiven.  Now come and let me give you a hug!!!




(Thanks to my beautiful niece Renn for being the best model in the world - you rock angel)