Shifting spaces

Welcome to our Summer Salon, and as our 3rd one I think we safely declare it an annual Breathe Community tradition! At least this year we’ve definitely had some summer, which for my heat loving body is a welcome change from the washout ‘summers’ the UK often has. 

With all the warmth there has been a massive growth spurt in my garden which comes to life in the spring and continues to grow and bloom as we move into summer with everything looking at its best. 

This time of growth feels in parallel with the boundaries of my world, which are once again growing and expanding outwards, having felt so shrunken and restricted since getting the virus early in 2020. Finally, there is a semblance of normality on a regular basis, I’m much less rigid about adhering to the 3 P’s (planning, prioritising, pacing) however boring they may seem, although I fully acknowledge that adhering to them has been essential to get me where I am today. I throw caution to the wind a lot more, with a “what the hell I’ll just do it” attitude – if it’s something I really want to do and I feel ok to do it, I just do it and don’t think too hard about it. I’m less ‘sensible’ at times, but I also now know that the consequences of being less sensible are far less severe than they ever were. I may end up tired, but in a healthy way, not a feeling really ill way, and I’m prepared to experience that to be able to experience life once again in a fuller form that it once was.  

Although I do try to be vaguely sensible when I’ve got a busy time, ensuring that there are a couple of days of a clear diary, as a precautionary measure. But I’m finding that more often than not I am not needing those clear days, or perhaps only one or half a one… So I have hope. Others who witness the changes in me reinforce my sense of the upward trajectory of recovery: who better to gauge how you’re really doing than those you’ve not seen for a while, rather than our own gauge which is stuck inside our private bubble and does not necessarily reflect how really things are. We are always the harshest of critics when it comes to ourselves, and can often focus on what we still can’t do. However, what we need is to focus on what we CAN do and celebrate that – with a metaphorical pat on the back! 

I’m fortunate to have had my usual annual trip to the French Pyranees. Staying in an old converted monastery high in the hills with only the sounds of trickling water, birdsong and a myriad of insects buzzing around, we call it the Garden of Eden.   

I notice how this summer space has shifted over the past years for me as my sense of self and capacity have grown. Coming back to life, nurtured by an ancient practice and wonderful cooking by the gifted Manuella who ensures that we always come back with a few more pounds (and I don’t mean with our luggage!).  

Many of your submissions reminded me of how a space like this can almost feel sacred; where you feel held and nurtured and cared for away from the rest of the world and the humdrum noise of our usual lives, like Sarah Jane so eloquently describes sitting under the giant canopy of her Yew tree… “a space of stillness and silence; a place where the connection between here and there falls away.” 

Whilst visiting this beautiful place over the past few years, I have at times felt like an outsider, not able to partake in everything as the others do (or as I could pre-Covid) but yet still part of the group: illness once again putting me on the side-lines, watching inwards, living vicariously. 

This time it was different, I was able to do much more, my path of recovery gauged by those who had not seen me for a year all celebrating and taking delight in how much better I was, and how much more like the “normal Jo” they’d met in previous years. I felt stronger, more powerful. There is a beautiful natural pool there, fed by streams and cleansed by the reeds at one end, water lilies floating on its’ surface, and wild flowers surrounding it. 

The challenge the past few years to reach this oasis is the 70 stone steps to get down to it, and then up again. Three years ago, I would manage just one visit to the pool per day, as getting up again was such a mission, resting at numerous places on the ascent. The following year I could do a little more, but this year I didn’t hesitate to go for a quick dip, or to just sit there whenever there was time. The pool is like a sanctuary within a sanctuary, a place to just be, listening, and watching nature at its’ finest, submerged and immersed in its’ perfection.   

But there’s also the challenge: the two water snakes that have resided in the pool for many years.  The owners of the place refer to them as ‘old friends’. “They are harmless” they say- “it’s fine to swim with them”. Now harmless and snake are not two words that sit happily in my grey matter, having seen far too many dire consequences of human and reptilian encounters during my time working at a rural hospital in the African bush – children and adults losing limbs from sepsis, dying from toxic venom- and even with non-venomous snakes I soon learnt that snakes have filthy teeth and seem to have not been brought up to brush them, let alone use Colgate!  

So, all this is swirling around my head as I stand balancing on the large rock at the end of the pool ready to dive in. As I focus my gaze on the water below a dark serpiginous shadow silently slithers across the bottom of the pool, making its’ way to the shallow end, and the words ‘old friend’ ring loud in my ear…..I decide to face my fears and dive head first into the water, above the snakes shadow. I swim quickly and nervously until I reach the other end and glance down to the base of the pool looking for the serpent.  It has disappeared.  I swim back again, a little less frantically, but still not entirely at ease.  Those who have been here before many times tell me not to worry- they really are harmless, but then they have not seen the consequences of snake bite that I have. 

A couple more lengths and I’m out, breathing an internal sign of relief not to have seen the snake again. AND also, a pat on the back to myself for facing my fears and doing it anyway. 

I have two more encounters with the snakes, each time finding myself mesmerised by them, beautiful connections with nature at her finest. After all the serpent is the one of the oldest symbols for a doctor and healing, and combined with my decades of practice of yoga there is the myth of a serpent rising through the spine and unlocking vital energy – and believe me I have definitely needed some of that these past years!  

So my trip this summer has filled me with hope and joy… the reinforcement of how far I’ve come on the recovery path, the celebration of renewed strength and stamina, and the facing of fears that turned out to be unfounded. 

Thanks as always to those of you who have shared your stories and wonderful creations. Please keep them coming! 

And wishing you all the most wonderful summer, whether at home or elsewhere. 

Jo Herman 

ENO Breathe Newsletter Content Curator and Editor