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The place I want to get back to

Over 20 years ago I was riding in a forest when I came upon a Stag. It was the most magnificent animal I had ever encountered. My horse camouflaging the fact that I was even present enabled me to look at this creature up close. I could see his nostrils quivering and I was held in awe at my incredible luck. I sat still and was aware that for him to stay in my presence, I needed to be still. That image has stayed with me.

Ten years ago I was in Coral Bay Western Australia and I was taken to a large sand dune by Quad bike. It was dusk and as I climbed to the top through the soft sand, feeling the coolness on my legs and feet, I was again struck in awe by the scene that I saw. In every direction was beauty the natural light gave an ethereal feel and my body and mind responded. It was as though I had been transported to another era. I felt like a child seeing something wonderful for the very first time.

The joy and peace I felt surge through me reminded me of the day I rode in the forest and saw the Stag. I felt fully present and open to being in the now, the only real place there is.

When working with people who have suffered from Trauma and Abuse I have seen how my experiences have enabled me to meet people where they are at. Tentatively, collaboratively and with a deep understanding of the importance of Stillness, Attunement, Presence and Trust. Knowing instinctively when to draw near and when to draw back to enable them to find their own unique and individual path. Nature and Animals have not lost their instincts and by observing and being fully present from time to time we too can connect back to ours.

The Place I Want To Get Back To

by Mary Oliver

is where in the pinewoods in the moments between the darkness and first light two deer came walking down the hill and when they saw me they said to each other, okay, this one is okay, let’s see who she is and why she is sitting on the ground like that, so quiet, as if asleep, or in a dream, but, anyway, harmless;

and so they came on their slender legs and gazed upon me not unlike the way I go out to the dunes and look and look and look into the faces of the flowers; and then one of them leaned forward and nuzzled my hand, and what can my life bring to me that could exceed that brief moment?

For twenty years I have gone every day to the same woods, not waiting, exactly, just lingering. Such gifts, bestowed, can’t be repeated.

If you want to talk about this come to visit. I live in the house near the corner, which I have named Gratitude.

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