Dare to Blossom Life Coaching with Mary Lunnen

Reflections: Waiting
Grounding Meditation: Compass Rose Speaks
Events and ways to Dare to Blossom

Reflections: Waiting

Waiting, waiting, the whole world feels in limbo just now, suspended.... I notice that in the February and March newsletters I wrote about change. None of us knew then just how much would shift and change over these few weeks, here in the UK anyway, and I imagine, for you too wherever you are in the world.

I feel two strange sensations: dizzy, as if my head is spinning from the news each day, and the new restrictions and rules that keep coming in. And, in limbo. Suspended. I see one of those slow motion images (that I personally find a little irritating when over-used) - of someone walking or running very, very slowly.

Waiting, waiting. Here in England we are into our second week of only being allowed out for essential purposes. One of those is exercise, but I am not allowed to drive to the cliffs where I love to walk. I have to start from my door and walk along the farm track, and maybe out onto the lanes. A lovely walk, even if with a different feel to being on the cliffs, and maybe I will when the weather is warmer and the biting cold north-easterly wind has changed direction. I am lucky to have lots of sheltered spots in the garden, so we have been able to sit in the sun with a cuppa several times over the last week.

I have been watching as this rhododendron, which hasn't flowered for several years, gradually opens. I have just reminded myself to go and visit it in a moment.

Reflections 1: The Winds of Change
Reflections 2: "Your Powerful Voice" Online Programme, plus "Percolating and Germinating"
Events and ways to Dare to Blossom

Reflections: The Winds of Change

March is not yet here, yet the wild winds are blowing in that tempestuous way that often welcomes in this month - one of growth and green shoots here in Cornwall. Last month I also wrote about change, and so much seems to have happened since then. As I wrote recently on my website (read more here), I found myself needing to 'live the questions' as I made the decision to cancel what has been my regular group programme throughout the year, and leave space for the new work that is emerging following the publication of The Powerful Voice of the Quiet Ones. To let that go before the new shoots were able to emerge for something fresh.

All the advance orders have now been dispatched and new orders are trickling in. At the same time, it is becoming clear to me that publishing the book, as well as clearing the way for the Compass Rose Speaks book to be finished, is the beginning of my work with 'The Powerful Voice' not the end. More on that below.

If you are in the southern hemisphere, you may be coming into autumn, harvest time, Another time of equinoctial winds, even with a different feeling. Here in Cornwall we are having a normal sort of early spring, with lots of gales and rain and the occasional sunny, but colder, day.

I know that I often resist change. I can be comfortable in a routine, with knowing how things will flow, with plans for many months ahead. I enjoy feeling that security, a sense of control - which is of course often a false one. My life has often been turned upside down by unexpected events. Sometimes difficult ones, sometimes joyful surprises. Over the years I have become a little more accustomed to coping with changes. Often it feels as if these are blown in by a gale of wind.

Recently the real life gales have been so strong, and have brought so much rain along with them, that I have hardly been out walking. I love the wind on the cliffs, when it is strong but not so violent that I feel unsafe. It is exhilarating and enlivening. Last time I visited my favourite spot I found a big change that meant I was unable to walk there and visit the fulmars. (I wrote about them last month too.) Here is a photo from another recent visit, of the cliffs next to the rock arch that is known as Porthmissen Bridge. The ledges are where the fulmars nest, along with kittiwakes and gulls, jackdaws and pigeons.

Reflections: Clearing and Changes
Events and ways to Dare to Blossom



Reflections: Clearing and Changes

February truly feels like the start of a new year for me, New life is beginning to emerge: snowdrops are already in flower, daffodils have put up their leaves and will very soon be brightening the day with the cheerful yellow of their trumpets. The photo above was taken a year or so back, of the miniature daffodils in the pots outside my office door. I am looking forward to when they flower again.

My 'spring cleaning', the electronic version anyway, has taken an abrupt and unwelcome turn due to the failure of the hard drive in my laptop. Thank goodness my files have been recovered, including the book manuscript. All my emails were lost though - so if anyone reading this prefers to be in touch that way, please reply to this so I have your address again. (Of course I have it here, but your permission to use it is only for the purposes of sending out this newsletter).

Welcome to the Dare to Blossom Newsletter 

It seems strange not to have written a December newsletter, as you may know I was travelling at the time I would normally have sent that out to you. So here we are looking ahead to 2020, as well as celebrating all that has happened over the last year.

 

Reflections: Standing in the Doorway
New Year Coaching Special Offer
Events and ways to Dare to Blossom

 

Reflections: Standing in the Doorway

Welcome to the first missive of 2020, all being well you will be reading this just before New Year. Sitting to reflect over the last few days, it has taken me a while to find a focus for this piece. So much has happened this year. So much has happened since I last wrote to you, before my magical journey to New Zealand began at the end of November. I feel as if I am literally standing in the doorway between the old year and the new, watching the stars wheel overhead as the year turns. Standing in that liminal space in between, taking a moment to pause, to reflect.

I returned from New Zealand on 6th December, having been away from home for less than three weeks, and in that time having travelled thousands of miles around the globe and back. Some of you joined me in the "Aotearoa Quest" group - it was a huge honour to have the company of a big group of travellers in spirit with me, thank you, thank you.

There were so many levels to my experience of journeying: the physical travel, and the excitement of seeing new places and revisiting familiar ones; the joy of being reunited with my sister and all her wonderfully large family of three daughters, their husbands and the seven children. Not to mention a new group of animal friends: cats, dogs, horses.

This picture, taken from the plane as we flew over the Southern Alps as we arrived, is one of my favourites. Each time I see it I am brought again to that place of wonder and anticipation.




Underpinning all those precious aspects, there is a deeper  journey, my own quest of reconnection with the land of New Zealand, of Aotearoa. A land where I have only lived briefly, the longest period being for about nine months, and yet a land for which  I feel a deep, deep love. It is so different in some ways to my home part of the planet, here in Cornwall, and yet we are all connected through the oceans and our sharing of this precious home world. Much more is emerging as I reflect and write, this piece contains just a few snippets about my journey.

This is coming to you a week early this month, and will be the last newsletter until some way into December. I return from my travels on the 6th, so I suspect it may take me a little time to settle back in and write to you here.

Who knows, maybe a missive will come your way before then. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the thoughts shared here.


Time Sensitive: still time to book your 'ticket' to journey with me in spirit
Reflections: The Powerful Voice of the Quiet Ones

Events and ways to Dare to Blossom

Time Sensitive: still time to book your 'ticket' to journey with me in spirit

In case you have yet to see this, I am offering you an opportunity to metaphorically stow away in my suitcase as I travel to New Zealand. Or, at least, a card with your name on will travel with me, to represent you in spirit as I journey around the world. Bookings close on 3 November, then I will take some special time to write your card and place it with all the others who are journeying with me, in a safe pouch in my bag. I will also draw four Rediscovery Cards for you, one for each point of the Compass, and put them in an envelope with your name and address upon it, ready to add your well-travelled card on my return and send them to you through the 'real' mail.



Click on the photo for more details and to book your ticket. For those of you who are happy on Facebook, I will be opening a private group there for everyone who is travelling in spirit with me.

Reflections: Journeys
An invitation: Your Aotearoa Quest
Events and ways to Dare to Blossom

Reflections: Journeys

It is intriguing that this title for my reflections came to me, this month. I am not leaving on my journey to New Zealand until November, so it may have been logical to for this subject to appear for the next newsletter.

However, appear it has, so I will follow where it takes me today. I have made many journeys in my life, literal and metaphorical. One of those was my 'journey' with cancer as many of you know - which began in 1994. My great good fortune was that the surgery removed the cancer and it has not returned. My experience has been one of coping with chronic pain, and that is lessening and changing as the years pass.

A memory pops up of a funny, and very moving talk at a conference for people affected by cancer I attended regularly for many years in Manchester. The speaker queried that metaphor of a 'cancer journey'. As he said, who chooses to set out on that sort of journey? And what type of journey has no known destination, no way of following your route on a map, no stops, no stations or airports along the way, no discernible means of travel. A one-way journey, one from which you may 'return' yet not as the same person whatever the outcome. A journey you have to travel alone, no one can truly be with you, however much family and friends, and professional supporters try to be with you.

My memories of that conference, and all the others, are - and this can be surprising to people who have not experienced this sort of 'journey' - that they were times of so much laughter. Laughter, and tears, and above all hugs. Everyone hugged, with unconditional love for each other (and asking permission first). I remember it being really quite hard not to hug people in the street when we left the sheltered bubble of the university campus. The conference always ended with a song about hugs (sadly I can't find a recording of it just now), which saw 300 people hugging as many people as they could before we all went our separate ways.

Many of us travel through our lives encountering health challenges of one sort or another. They seem to be part of being in a human body on this earth. Other sorts of journeys come to mind: that of growing up, from a child into a teenager and then the various phases of adulthood. One where we often wish we could go back in time and give our younger selves some encouragement. Although, as I read somewhere recently, our younger selves would most likely have ignored the advice from a strange person claiming to be themselves visiting from the future.

Then there are those regular roads we travel that become a habit: to school, to work, to the shops. How often do we fail to notice the sights and sounds along our way? They become so familiar as to be invisible to us. The photo below always make me look twice, even though I took it.... the eye is deceived by the stark blackness of the shadow. Can you see what it is?