One minute of fame

Hi, Just got my first capuccino of the day from Raquel, whose is almost but not quiet from Barcelona! I found myself singing an extract from 'Jerusalem' to her - "And did those feet in ancient times" etc. I am just back from a conference in Cardiff and the craick (conversation not the drugs)was good and we sang a bit in the bar till 2 in the morning. We being Vee, Parveen and a bunch of others. Vee can do Bohemian Rhapsody words and guitar solos perfect! I persuaded people to do one song recorded by the Pets - 'You were always on my mind' but they did it more Elvis than Neil Tennant. Hey ho.

I had one minute of fame rather than my usual 20 mins or so. But at least I had my 1 minute with the whole conference of about 200 people listening (or not) rather than 20 minutes with 20 or so people. So I decided to share part of a poem that I had written on the train on the way. Here goes:

Suppose

Suppose we have got it wrong
Suppose our cherished counselling ways
Are not the best we can offer the world
What if there are better ways of helping
To be found
In the rain forests
Or in the slums of Nairobi
Or on the street of Moss Side?

Bit above shared)

Are British people
(Whatever that means!)
Happier, healthier
Does British counselling
Even answer British problems
And even if it does
How universal is that?

Is counselling blind to culture?
If not where should it end?
Where should it begin?


I had had an eppithany on the train to the conference on Friday when I realised that all my thinking about culture and counselling applied to class and counselling. My colleague Liz had kept talking to me about class (that makes me uncomfortable - but that's another story or blog entry) and suddenly it made sense. Counselling and psychotherapy largely work with white middle class women clients and therapists. It is a minority group practice nothing wrong with that but it is not universal. Liz thinks it has a missionary feel to it when it engages with working class people - remember the origins of counselling in the churches and voluntary agencies? As my colleague John said this morning can we integrate into our practice approaches that do work well with groups less likely to access counselling? I then thought of my friend Dawn Edge's research among Black Caribbean women and post natal depression and how some of the women in her study used their faith - prayer, the Bible to help them cope.

Enough for now, work calls. As ever do email em back on or off blog if so moved.

Best to all,

Bill-on-bike

Poem for John and me

Hi I am at a conference in Cardiff and on the way on the train I was inspired to write a poem about my academic supervisor from the early 1990s:

Poem for John

I sat at your feet for 5 years
(Which was a strange place to be
In an English university)
You were the closest
I ever had
To a real live spiritual teacher.

I am not sure
How you carried it
All
Your floor was crowded then
As mine is now.

But I know
We are doing something
very ancient
mysterious
love giving
And
Spiritual
There!
I have said it
Spiritual
Oh my God!

You showed me
The way to be
More me
And less anyone else
Less false
Less quiet

I can't seem to stop
Showing this to those
Who sit at my feet.

Poem

The sun is out I feel sleepy after a disturbed night and a lovely easy bike ride to work via a meeting with Dee. I had lunch with Fenia and a Greek visitor Gabriella and was moved to write a poem afterwards.

Poem for Gabriella


The light was dancing
In a strange way
In your eyes

You were mercurial
Or was it hermetic?
Moving from light to dark
Shallow to deep
Humour to grief
And back
And again

I saw some of your truth
In the remains of a dinner plate
(Rather than in a grain of sand)
Of current suffering
And future hope
And of the dancing light

Bike cycle story part two and three

Hi, a few days ago I posted my bike cycle poem which I received 2 welcome comments to me about it. You will recall that it was the first chapter maybe of an abandoned novel that worked as a poem (or possibly a short story). Here is the second extract that does not work as a poem, and the third which follows later does.

'What's happened to him? He's usually home by now. The meal's ready. I'll have a glass of wine' She paces restlessly up and down, picking things up - a knife here a plate there and almost immediately putting them down.

Time passes. 'Oh I wonder where he is. Who can I ring? Jonathan?'
"Hello Jonathan? It's Maria, Yes... Have you seen Matthew"
"Hi Maria. No, not since Tuesday."
"Oh, erm.."
"Has he not come home?"
"No... but he goes to his therapist after work..."
"Maybe he has stopped off somewhere, some place to think"
"No" sounding irritated, "No, No, err... Maybe I guess so but-"
"I shouldn't worry"
"No, you're right but I do"
"Why not wait until closing time and then worry"
"OK"
"You don't sound convinced"
"Well, it's not like him"
"Look, if I can help in anyway..." ('Well meaning but totally useless as usual!')
"Thanks" (Through gritted teeth)
"Let me know when he comes in"
"I will. Bye" (No way)
"Bye"

I feel worse now. Jonathan was not much help. I turn off the oven but I am not hungry - I feel tight in my stomach, a dread knot of tension. What if?.... Closing time seems so long away and time passes slowly and watching TV does not help. I could ring my friends but that wont help me find him. Oh where is he.

It's 11.30 now and time to ring the police. They are sympathetic but the questions...

Bike cycle poem Part Three

Oh my God
They've found his bike
But they haven't found him
Where is he?
Is he dead?
Crazy?
Lost his memory?
Run away?
From me?!
Why?
Is he lying in a ditch somewhere?
Hurt?
What's happened?
What is happening to me?
What can I do?

I can clean the house
I can cook the supper
I can sit and stare at the wall
Help me someone

Hitting the keyboard

Weeeellll I had my first piano lesson ever last night with my marvelous teacher Rebecca. After 45 minutes I could begin to use 5 fingers of my right hand to play notes and I could begin to read music, cope with beats to the bar and mostly stay relaxed.

This morning first thing I did my first ever piano practice. So what you might think but as I have earlier blogged I have had a real problematic history with music teachers and self confidence.

So Grace and I are talking duets for the family at Xmas! The first one planned is a copy from Elmo where you sing repetitively one word to a well known Xmas tune - I'll try and get me and Grace on youtube doing this. More ambitiously, Grace and I would love to duet on the Pets Red letter Day (I blogged about that song recently). "Oh no!" exclaimed Sheila at the prospect! It's tough being the partner (and mother) of a Pethead!

Talking of the Pets I found a hilarious clip mentioned on their website (- petshopboys.co.uk - their jube box is great). The clip features the phone jacker.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AVv1DyYDxlE

Best to all,

Bill on bike and loving the spring sunshine

Old Admirals

There's an Al Stewart song with lines that go "The saddest thing to be/Old admirals who feel the wind/And never put to sea". I remembered this line on the bike this week feeling the pull to cycle and cycle. I cycled to Altincham, on to work, on to Dee's and back home about 22 miles. I felt a bit cream crackered(!) afterwards and a bit sore in the legs the next day but good to do.

My dad was a sailor in the Second World War but he never wanted to mess around in boats afterwards apart from the odd fishing trip and a couple of cruises up the Norway coast - which he called his 'spiritual home'. When he retired at 65 he did very little apart from taking over cooking from my mum, she hated cooking, he enjoyed it it was a shame it happened so late on. But he said he didn't want to weave baskets or stuff like that. So his 25 years in retirement seemed pretty dull to me.

That frightens me! I want to carry on feeling the wind and putting to sea. I mean doing stuff that I love. My fantasy retirement is doing even less of what I don't like and even more of what I do, all within what is possible.

On being open to the possibility...

Hi,

I was talking with Dee about how I teach, supervise, counsel, hang out with people. When I am working I aim to be competent and I try and arrange things so that I can give of my best, the more present I am able to be the better it usually goes. So I do the 'office politics' to bring this about as best I can, ie to spend as much time as possible on the things I enjoy doing workwise. At times it is a challenge to run my agenda in harmony with my that of colleagues, managers and the institution at large but I have some nouce on this.

Sometimes things seem to go really well, like they are functioning on a different level or state of consciousness. Unfortunately I don't have control over this, can't turn it on or off at will, it is not really about me. I can get out of the way, let it happen. I can be open to the possibility of things being better than usual as I put it to Dee.

But if I am not truly responsible for when things go amazing well am I responsible for those few occasions when it goes not well. I feel so. But sometimes I find myself with a group that is not receptive to what I am trying to do, or we don't gell or whatever. I seek to minimise these experiences to use my skill and nouce so that the conditions in which this can occur are infrequent. And I am human!

Post me on this stuff if you connect with it.

Best to all,

Bill on bike and enjoying the spring sunshine today.