Travels in Perspective
Yesterday, I travelled to East Grinstead to deliver my essay for my level 5 qualification to the Tobias School of Art & Therapy. It was a long day of train travel and surreal returning to the Ashdown Forest and the people I once studied with. On the plus side, it was fun and rejuvenating, surprising my friends who didn’t know I was going to arrive, and spending time with them to hear about their lives and how the course is going was a salve to my soul, which I’m very grateful for. But as I walked back up the hill and away from the forest, I realised that this place was not for me and that I was happy with my life.
It’s funny how it takes a visit to a previous life path to fully see where my life needs to be - a needed perspective on life’s purpose. On my return, though, I realised how much I needed to be in a forest as I didn’t realise I needed those trees until I travelled to the school, which is surrounded by tall trees on the edge of the forest. I will try to be in the woods more here in Hertfordshire, as the healing peace from trees is a breath of fresh air, especially after these long, dark winter months. It’s a delight to see flowers and buds beginning to show and the long, dark, grey days ending. I feel that this is the first winter in a long time that I’ve longed for the light and warmth of the sun.
Perhaps it’s not just the weather but the political climate too that has felt like a weight and heaviness on my shoulders. Without intending to, I’ve been watching the news, feeling more worried for my Ukrainian friends and students, and hoping that peace is a future for them soon. As the tension rises between world leaders, it becomes more challenging to avoid the news, especially when travelling into London or further, as every newspaper, newsagent, and digital board has headlines shouting what calamity is taking place. It offers another perspective when I return home to my rat-infested flat that, though it frustrates me to no end that my landlord is doing nothing to get rid of the rats in the attic, at least I have a roof over my head, heated rooms and no bombing or shooting. I live in luxury compared to so many, and events in the news make me feel so grateful for my life here.
On the 2nd of March, I celebrated living in the UK for eleven years. I reflected that without my return to the UK all those years ago, I wouldn’t have had the medical support when I got cancer. Without the Jobcentre, I wouldn’t have had the financial support while trying to get through cancer and in the aftermath as I rebuild my career. My brother was the one who encouraged me years ago to return to the UK, and I’m so glad he was instrumental in my decision to relocate. It’s not been easy to make yet another trans-Atlantic move and start again, and there have certainly been lots of difficulties, but there’s so much to be grateful for, too, and so many new friends I’ve made along the way.
As I arrived in the centre of St Albans to find a café to sit in and write this blog post, there was the annual pancake race taking place, which I hadn’t seen since I first moved back to the UK so that was a strange full circle discovery for today. Even more bizarre was that the person who was the announcer for the race was my former landlord from a previous flat that was also rat infested! Seeing him in an official and friendly role with no rat in sight is so odd! I wonder what the Universe is trying to teach me living in rat-infested flats with terrible landlords. There must be a meaning somewhere that I’m missing. You’d think I’m attracting the rats as the synchronicity is baffling, or do I attract flats that are full of rats? Something to ponder.
This next week promises to be calm and uneventful and with the shadow of my essay no longer part of my days, I feel hope that I might actually find time to get into my own art studio and explore some creative projects that I’ve put aside for far too long.
Sending love and light to all who take the time to read my blog and I hope you are also enjoying brighter, warmer and peaceful days ahead.
- Franceska
