Category: Being Well
When we look at the world around us, there is plenty to be angry about. Going by my social media feeds, it seems we have two choices as to how we can cope with all the upsetting stuff going on:
1. Keep informed, engage with the issues, spread the message, voice our anger; or:
2. Sell the telly, take less notice of current events and cultivate our own peace.
There are problems with both these approaches. If we take the first and allow ourselves to be consumed by anger, indignation and even bitterness, we are likely to become resentful, cynical, exhausted and even unwell. The second choice may keep us calm and safe unless something unpleasant happens to pierce the bubble, but we could be doing ourselves – and the world – out of the opportunity to make a change, however small, to the world around us.
Engage, get angry, feel uncomfortable, risk confrontation.
Or preserve our own sense of peace, calm and love, shielding ourselves and our families from horrible goings on?
My answer is neither.
Or, more accurately, both.
If we are privileged enough to have access to media of all kinds and the leisure time to peruse it, I believe that we have an obligation … Read More »
This is me. I was about three years old, at my grandparent’s holiday cottage near Maldon. I needed to be looked after really well. Usually my Mummy did that, but for a little while she trusted my Granny and Grandpa to do it just as well. I needed to be kept safe. fed, nurtured, cared for in almost every way.
As I grew older, I needed less and less care. I began to learn to choose my own clothes (well, I am still working on getting that right!), to know what and how much to eat and eventually to get myself from one place to another, choose where to live and with whom. All the grown up stuff.
I didn’t need parents or grandparents to look after me any more.
Not because I didn’t need looking after.
Definitely not that.
But because I had learned to look after myself.
Learning, gradually, day by day and year by year, to do things for myself didn’t mean I no longer needed to be cared for, kept safe, nurtured, put first. It just meant that instead of others doing the caring, I could do it all by myself. I could take care of myself in just the same way … Read More »
During the past month, the question of whether employers can require women to wear high heels to work has been enthusiastically explored in the media. This is since a woman was sent home from work at a City firm for refusing to wear heels. Read more here.
The debate has widened to include the imposition of dress codes in general, especially in relation to distinctions between the genders, so, for example, sometimes women are criticised for not wearing makeup but this is not something that can be applied to men.
I have long been fascinated by the heel issue in particular and have my own perspective to offer here.
Some time ago, I walked bouncily from my parked car to the gym wearing trainers. In front of me was a younger woman wearing high heels, possibly about three inches. She was, I surmised, one of the therapists on her way to the Spa for work. She wasn’t bouncing. She was hobbling.
As we both walked towards the building, I reflected on the difference between our gaits. Walking is incredible isn’t it? I was enjoying the simple but miraculous activity of walking and the lady in front of me was struggling to put one foot … Read More »