Zen on the top of the cliffs

Last week I threw myself into a life of train journeys and over-priced takeout coffee. I was up and down the country almost as a daily commute, but it really was not so bad. It was enjoyable actually. I was able to work, see good friends, shoot, drink cocktails, acquire redder hair (which I love), meet new people and make temporary friends with fellow travellers in passing. It was really a good week. I did manage to spend a couple of evenings at home, I made it to a research meeting (half an hour late...), walked the halls of a very empty university, and finally caught up with a very sun-kissed and peaceful mother after quite some time.

After such a busy week, I have once more found myself away with my trusty (broken) suitcase, and this time one of my very good friends Moor has joined me. I am in Kent and we are staying with some of my family and making a few road trips around the South East coast, re-fuelling our bodies and minds with fresh air before the next stint of life. Yesterday we went to Eastbourne and decided to take a walk by the coast and then climb the cliffs to see the view and also find some zen. We sat down on the grass in silence. It might have been meditation, still yoga, spiritual stillness, zen... Whatever the 'correct' terminology, this is what we did. It was peaceful, and for the first time in my life I walked out of the house and promised myself no work emails or calls. I did take one, about an invoice, but that was all (I am only a human being!)

Something I notice lately (in fact, more so since reading the Monk who sold his Ferrari) is that my mind is constantly working out what it is that I am learning. What have I learnt each day and how can I take it to the next one with me? What does it say about me? It is surely a side-effect of being a counsellor and having a natural appetite for self-growth. Perhaps I can even log the CPD hours! But it is interesting the conversations that take place which stem from that one question. We never quite realise all we are capable of unless we stop to allow ourselves to be accountable for the changes that have happened so far.