Last Saturday evening, I was in a local pub with my wife and a group of friends.

In one of the new micro-pubs* which are opening up with great frequency in the area where I live, I found myself propped up, by leaning against a pillar, with my right shoulder, and my right leg straight down with my foot out in front of me.

However, when I looked down to my left side, my left foot had disappeared – it was not visible from the angle of its placement to my line of sight.

It felt a bit weird. I had bent my left leg and then turned the knee outwards at 90 degrees, and then the foot at 90 degrees. This gave the appearance that my foot was at 180 degrees to its normal position  – as if the foot was on, back to front.

It was also invisible, because the calf of my left leg bulged out and obscured my view of my foot.

I must have been momentarily distracted from the group conversation, because I found myself, moving the foot in and out of my line of sight and feeling quite strange at what looked  like some magical contortion of the foot.

I think, this ability to discover unusual capabilities about what is physically possible for us all, has something to say to each of us, about giving ourselves up to a willingness to be surprised.

As I get older – into my mid-fifties – I sense a physical aging, but also a growing fascination with the vein structures in my hands and feet.

The act of bringing our hands up to our face, and looking intently at the folds in the fingers and the life-lines on the palms, refresh and renew our sense of who we are and how our body has evolved with us, and for us, throughout our lives.

The twisting and turning of the joints, the bending and straining of the back and neck and arms and legs and hands and feet, speaks to me of my capacity to strive for a wider context, a depth of meaning, and an acceptance of not having all of the answers.

I move my foot from its right angle and use it purposefully to walk towards the bar…… now, can I remember what I have been asked to provide my friends with …. oh yes, three pints of bitter, one dry white wine, a diet coke (no ice) and a rum and black.

My next blog will be : Territorial Ducks

William Defoe

*A micro-pub is usually a small space with a well stocked bar of real ales with limited seating. They are modern, light and look like shop fronts from the outside, rather than a traditional public house.

I have come to realise that I am in essence a vulnerable adult – vulnerable that is to my emotional state.

In recent years I have been engaged in a process of deep inner work of finding resilience through continued development.

To be in the search of finding resilience is to be in the work of continuing practice because it is through the practising that I feel safe or should I say safer from reacting on an emotional level to the world around me.

My practices are manifold and include:

• sitting quietly listening to my inner voice;
• noticing and appreciating the natural world and feeling myself to be a part of it;
• running;
• writing;
• reading coaching material which is recommended to me;
• visiting my coach and bringing everything;
• reaching out to my family to be a source of support for their needs of me in their life;
• prayer;
• friends;
• working;
• eating;
• relaxing;
• sleeping;
• listening to others;
• reflecting;
• loving;
• learning something new;
• reminding myself of the things I am passionate about.

Above all, finding resilience for me, is to be engaged in the important work of accepting all aspects of self, in deepening my capacity to be expansive in my thinking; of being less reactive to events, being more reflective; more honest and open with others; and more empathetic.

Finding Resilience is to be engaged in the habits of practices which give stability and hope and peace to a conflicted life.

My next blog will be: Cornfield

William Defoe

I have been noticing within my body-physical a set of brakes.

It is an interesting phenomenon which has revealed itself to me through running five times each week for the last nine months of my life.

I have been wondering why it is that even though I am much fitter, carrying less weight, my run times, although improved, are not even better.

I first discovered my brakes running downhill but they are not in my legs.

These brakes hold me back  when perhaps it is possible for me to run faster, but they control my speed, not from my head (fear of falling) but from my abdomen (keeping me centred).

They speak to me of taking all factors of my run into account, not just my speed, but also my rhythm, my breathing, my stamina and my enjoyment.

I think my brakes have enabled me to keep focused, allowing my run to be an important time for my mental development because they facilitate head space to think, to notice my inner voice, to help me to stay present.

They are unlike the brakes in our heads which at times say to us, “we can’t” or which judge harshly ourselves or others.

My next blog will be: Finding Resilence

William Defoe

My skin – your skin – a seamless suit of exquisite beauty which holds in all of me – and all of you!

Our skin soft, malleable, resilient, self healing, beautiful and a vital and living wondrous organ which is magnificent in its scale and ambition.

The soft skin of the face and buttocks (ne’er to be confused) contrasted with the harder skin of the heel and palms which reveal the vastness of the skins capacity to adapt and protect and nurture what is me and what is you.

So often when I am feeling agitated, it is in the skin in which the stress shows itself to be in distress with a rash here and there, perhaps under the arms or along the belt line or groin or on my feet and hands.

This manifestation of the anxiety felt within is revealed on the surface of my skin, and I soothe with water and cream to heal the wounds which I have inflicted on to my skin in my time of distress.

Slowly those wounds heal, but to avoid these moments of disconnect between my mindset and my beautiful skin, I need to find a place to be calm, a place to be in dialogue with what the skin is protecting physically which is:  my truth; my essence; my life.

My next blog will be: Brakes

William Defoe

I was reminded this week how easy it is for our words spoken to be interpreted by the listener in a manner which results in them taking offence.

My adult child having spent a wonderful day with me, in which my intention was to show her my love and continue our journey to overcome some difficulties in the past, took offence at something I said towards the end of the day in relation to my hopes for her future.

In realising that a word in my sentence changed very much its sentiment, and being told I had caused offence, I apologized.

I then had a long drive home in which my feelings of frustration and hurt threatened not just to spoil the day, but the very future I am trying with my adult child to improve.

It has taken several periods of reflection and inner scrutiny to find my way through all of this and my overwhelming desire is to maintain and strengthen the good work we have begun and that is what I am resolved to do.

I reflected more on my own capacity to take offence and what I can do to work harder to resist the temptation myself to communicate that I have been offended by the words of others, particularly when the context of the relationship is far bigger than a mis-spoken word.

It seems to me that to take offence is to react in the moment without looking wider at the broader importance of the circumstances of the whole relationship and also at whether the words were designed to cause offence or were merely an expression of a view or aspiration which I am less ready to accept than the person expressing them.

A few years ago, after I told my brother that I was gay,he told me that our older brother had suspected as much in a conversation they had about me, but not with me.

I have felt a sense of hurt right from the moment my brother told me about this conversation and it would be fair to say that I took offence – I was mortified by it.

Throughout my journey to nurture and develop my love for self, I have come to understand that to take offence is to close down our opportunities to listen, it is to close down our opportunities for dialogue, it is to close down our opportunities to be open with self.

My next blog will be: Skin

William Defoe