THE SMELL OF AUTUMN and RICH SURVIVAL

I stepped outside as the sun was setting tonight, setting the world aglow.

Like the light in Africa, what I remember of my time in Southern Africa, the light filled my soul there as it does here, now. This light is one of the golden threads of my story, weaving strands that support me on this journey of life.

And tonight, the smell.....the wonderful sweet smell of Autumn: apples beginning to ferment slightly, a freshness in the air, cool, slight dampness but tinged with sunlit warmth still.

The smell took me to other times, to other threads of my story. I remember it, the smell, the feeling, from school and running. I went to boarding school. Yes, I am a boarding school survivor. 11 years. From 7 to 18 years old. In my first school I climbed trees, they became my family, my support, my safe haven. In the second school I was told that “young ladies don't climb trees”. I didn't want to be a young lady. But I wanted to be left alone in my havens, not bullied into coming down by controlling matrons.

So I took up running because then I could legitimately escape out of the grounds, which were beautiful, but still a confine and not wild enough for me. That is when I smelt the Autumn, the Winter, the Spring and the Summer, out on my runs, alone and free. All one with the natural world which understood me as I understood her. Away from all the conventions and rules I was meant to understand. I suffered because I did not, seemingly could not, understand these rules of society.

For many people the recovery from Boarding school can overtake their whole lives. I am deeply grateful for those working to uncover the traumas of it. And I am deeply grateful that my survival brings with it so much love for the natural world. I am grateful too to my mother for leaving me out in the garden in my pram. Maybe that was the beginning of me really connecting with Nature as my Mother, or maybe it was before that, maybe I brought it with me. Who knows?

I am grateful too that my recovery began early. Working in Peruvian orphanages at the age of 18 gave me a chance to understand something of the trauma I had experienced, It gave me a chance to give what I needed: love and understanding for those emotionally abandoned. Later, and still now, I learnt and am learning to give it to myself.

Then there was Waldorf Education that guided me to rescue my own soul and spirit. And the children, of course, the ones I taught. The seven year olds who couldn't tie their own shoelaces at an age when I was packing my own bags to go away from home for months at a time.

And the final piece of this rich survival tapestry for me was my training in Biographical Counsellling and Coaching. Where I understood the challenges of being human that we all have. That my challenges are not smaller or larger than other peoples and that does not diminish them. It celebrates my life. Alongside others. A party of humans creating a work of art....the art of being human.

I welcome you to share your story, in my one to one sessions or groups. Contact me for a free conversation to find out what would best support you and your story at this time.