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Creativity Coaching for Professionals
WELCOME!
My mission is to ENABLE you, first and foremost, to TRANSFORM THE RELATIONSHIP you have with yourself; thereby to feel a genuine CONFIDENCE in who you are and how you can make a MEANINGFUL contribution to your work, peers, friends and family. I am committed to bringing COMPASSION and CREATIVE EXPLORATION in working with the reality of your unique context, and will support you to LET GO of your ego and engage in more PLAY within the adult environment.
The Creative Impulse

For children, being creative is natural and instinctive. As a child, I did not define what I did as ‘artistic’ or ‘talented’ or ‘special.’ Drawing, performing and making things was synonymous with playing and having fun. At junior school (aged 8–11), my numerous extra-curricular activities included dancing, acting, gymnastics, netball and violin lessons. Though I achieved varying degrees of skill and success in these, I also paid no attention to my siblings when they teased me about the screeching noise that sounded more like an animal in pain than music. I simply appreciated having time to myself to practise my violin every day and cherished the acknowledgement from my teacher that came with the small improvements I made over time.

At some point, although I wasn't aware of it at the time, the adults around me shifted their intention from nurturing ‘play’ and ‘learning’ to the rather more serious business of ‘education,’ namely education with the aim of getting a good job, career progression and preparing myself for adult life. My focus shifted from being in the present to emphasis on the future. My teens became a constant race towards exams, goals, and achievements. In my mind, I lived for attainments in a future where the ‘here and now’ was just never good enough.

Sadly, most parents and teachers tend to propagate what they know, or are influenced by, onto their children. They do so with good intentions, and more likely than not, because they went through a similar process themselves (if it was good enough for me…). Children and adults crave certainty, which in the modern world generally equates to the illusion that a good degree, job, house, spouse, friends, family, etc. will give us security and stability and make us happy. Then, some twenty or thirty years later, how many of us end up in therapy to lament the lack of encouragement we received from parents and teachers to accomplish our childhood dreams? (In some cases, too much micro-managed support, which creates an alternate kind of pressure to constantly perform.)

Upon reaching this point, the baseline for me was to ask myself “When did I let go of my dream, my creative instinct, and instead start walking a path where I solidified my limitations?” Not just for myself, but also in my perception of my family, friends, and colleagues. We cling to our identity as though our life depends on it. Otherwise who are we? How many times have you found yourself saying “It's just the way I am,” or “I'm no good at [fill in the blank],” or “She always gets mad when I [fill in the blank]”? We assume that by repeating the stories of our little foibles, likes, dislikes, strengths, weaknesses, over and over, this will define who we are and make us a unique individual. Yet this is not freedom. This is putting our ‘self’ (and others) into a box.

Many of my clients believe that they are not creative. The truth is closer to admitting that we are insecure and that fear is what limits our creative expression. We don't want to be vulnerable, or even to concede that we may not know how to be. To take the leap and be a student again takes courage. The gestation period of taking action, any endeavour that will make us creatively vulnerable (be it painting, writing, making, dancing, playing music, designing, collaging, anything that we love to do for the simple enjoyment of doing it) is really difficult. We are impatient and harsh with ourselves, especially in staying with the discomfort of a process that has yet to generate a form, mould, and structure, and is still only flashes of inspiration and disconnected images. Creative endeavour is not always fun, yet the enormity of the pressure we put on ourselves to instantly create something ‘beautiful’ is overwhelming. A first draft, let alone an entire novel, takes months of drafts and edits, perhaps years of writing ‘bad’ novels beforehand. Creativity is in the practice, maybe half an hour each day to begin with. The delightful and exciting will emerge, without force.

The question is: Do you value your life enough to carve out a little time to do what you love? Don't worry about what your family and friends will think. They are more concerned with what you think of them! There is no ‘right’ way to be creative. Explore and experiment, have an adventure, accept what unfolds instead of wanting to control every twist and turn of your life. And most important of all, have a sense of humour!

How I Work

I believe each of us has a longing to express our true passion and manifest a meaningful contribution to the world. Yet many of us believe it's not possible. We subconsciously pressure ourselves to be ‘perfect’ according to others' definitions, when this is not the truth of our experience. Embarking on a coaching programme begins with the challenge of reaching out and arranging an initial free consultation. Whether initiated by your job, career, relationship, family, friendships or health, my relationship with each client is built on confidentiality and trust. It is essential that you and I can have an honest conversation about difficult issues.

Although I have trained in several related disciplines, I do not work with any prescribed method or theory. There is already way too much information ‘out there’ on self-improvement, a vast mountain of seminars, books, blogs, podcasts, positive-thinking theories, videos, seven-step models to a successful life, etc. This endless list just adds to the many waking hours we spend focused on the mind and intellect; thinking, analysing, contemplating, criticising, strategising, measuring, and so on. Social Media is yet another paradigm shift into the mind, siphoning our time away and keeping our brains stimulated and constantly over-worked. We feel time is too short, and the pressure to be and do everything becomes an overwhelming burden that keeps us busy without the experience of joy and fulfilment and love and connection that we crave.

The real question is how much of what you read and watch and listen to do you actually act on and put into practise? When you get home at the end of the day, whether you live with your parents, partner, children, pets, or on your own, when you stop and be still with your private thoughts, how do you really feel about your life? In those moments, do you choose to engage with your doubts and fears? Do you trust it's okay not to know who you are? Do you keep looking and questioning without forcing the answers?

My intention is for you to discover and harness your Creative Life Force, so that you can ‘create’ the life you truly desire. It is an extraordinary and life-changing process, and my commitment to you is for the long term, to enable you to sustain the changes you want to make. I will provide an environment of gentleness and compassion, I will encourage you to tell the truth about your experience without judgement, and I will support you to make the time and space to experiment with the reality of your situation.

The sessions will enable you to:

Sessions are held in person or via video call. Contact me at fariyal@wallez.name for more information and to arrange a free consultation.

What Clients Say

I can't recommend a course of coaching with Fariyal enough! Through her insightful guidance, she helped me to revolutionise my relationship with myself in the most positive possible way. By challenging me, asking the right questions, and also being immensely kind, she gradually helped me towards finding a better and more purposeful version of me, enabling me to emerge stronger, more inspired, aware, poised and happy, and in possession of tools to help me maintain a more fulfilling way of living. Thank you, I have immense gratitude and respect!
Elizabeth, Pianist

I would recommend coaching to everyone! Life is so fast paced and we don't get time to think and access. For me, the coaching shed light on everyday situations. You don't need to have a life crisis to have coaching. It's given me an inner peace that I never thought I could find, and what's lovely is that it is really about finding yourself.
Vanessa, Design Director, Global Online Fashion and Beauty Brand

I found the coaching sessions to be incredibly beneficial, at a difficult time in my life and career. I felt the sessions opened up so many other avenues and pathways. It helped me manage and approach difficult situations with a clearer objective. I definitely became more true to myself throughout the programme, and a year later, I am still seeing the benefits of things we put into practice.
Charlotte, Fashion Designer and Brand Consultant

I would recommend coaching to anyone who is ready to make changes in their life. My coaching sessions with Fariyal changed my life, and helped me regain confidence in myself and trust in the future.
Ophélie, Architect and Project Manager

Fariyal has been my coach for over a year now and I have felt very safe in her company, which has meant I have been able to share some difficult memories and issues with her. In doing so I have been able to objectivise better, putting things into perspective. Fariyal offers methods of exploring one's subconscious in truly enlightening ways and I know I will continue to use these, as they are very effective.
Caroline, Executive Coach

YES. I would recommend coaching with Fariyal without hesitation. If you need someone to help see the “same old, same old” from another angle, if you need someone to challenge you to be honest with yourself, she's it!
Kim, Company Owner, Exhibition Design and Project Management

Coaching has completely revolutionised the way I look at my life and given me more confidence to follow my dreams. I realised that I had been living a life to make others happy rather than myself and in many ways not looking after myself. I was trying so hard to please people that I had no idea it was me choosing to please others and ultimately making myself unhappy. Fariyal was very easy to talk to and never judgemental. I'm a very guarded person in general and don't let anyone know much about myself without being totally sure I can trust them, but I didn't find this hard with Fariyal.
Kat, Logistics at Luxury Fashion Brand

I was a lost soul when I first met Fariyal. Within a short period of time, she helped me find my mojo and focus, and better understand what is important and when to let go.
Mark, Partner at Leading Chartered Surveyor

It meant a lot to me and I will always look back on this period as something to be proud of. Many thanks for helping me on the way, giving me all your valuable thoughts and advice, which I will continue to take with me. Also, thank you for being so sharing with your own life and experiences.
Therese, Brand Designer, Own Business

The most valuable [aspect] for me was the integrated approach that works both on the physical, mental and emotional level. The different parts of the sessions were so complimentary and in different moments of my life, it was either one or the other that worked the best. For me personally, Fariyal is a very comfortable and light person to be around. There was a very good and healing vibe coming from her. I noticed this the first time I came to have a massage with her and how she had a much more thorough approach than just handling it on a physical level; that was the reason I wanted to continue with the integrated sessions.
Anastasia, Writer & Operations at Global Assurance and Tax Advisory Service

I approached Fariyal, as I was keen to explore the next steps in my career with a fresh perspective. Her knowledge, guidance and support were of amazing value, and I would highly recommend her integrative programme — it was really inspiring! She is very attentive and has a clear, concise, methodical approach. In fully understanding my needs, I now have clearer direction in how to develop my own business and the timeframe to build this. Fariyal has a natural flair for the holistic field, with strong personable qualities, and her in-depth knowledge and experience in career coaching makes her brilliant at what she does. Thanks for all your time and dedication!
Nazlee, Marketing and Communications Professional

I completed a programme of 6 coaching sessions with Fariyal over a period of six months. The purpose was to help me identify essential next steps in developing my career and to resolve how to tackle the practicalities and potential challenges entailed. I also introduced non-work related goals during this time. I found it very useful to discuss my thoughts, ideas and feelings about my issues with Fariyal, who encouraged me to talk, listened well and provided alternative perspectives. She was patient and non-judgemental in approach, particularly when I was uncertain about the direction I was going in. Her questions enabled me to focus and clarify my thoughts and she was keen to offer relevant support to help me achieve the goals agreed. I now have a much clearer idea of what I need to do and how in order to succeed in my aims.
Alison, Director and Founder, Business Management Consultancy

Thank you — very energising and useful. I really feel as though I understand some things much better and have a clear route to execute some things that have been neglected. Thank you so much and I shall let you know how things progress.
Kris, Principal Psychologist, Own Consultancy

Great workshop!!! Fariyal was a great coach and she gave us very simple but effective tools to boost creativity. Thank you for your generosity and for giving me the opportunity to be part of it.
Sylwia, Yoga Teacher

What a joy to be in a [workshop] room full of people committed to cultivating their creative instincts. I am re-reading the little notebook Fariyal gave us and helped us fill with observations about ourselves. I will keep this notebook and I already cherish it. Thanks Fariyal for this guided tour through ourselves!
Diane, Senior Business Analyst

I did well to participate in this captivating workshop!! I had the impression that it has been a long time since I've taken care of myself!! A very interesting workshop, which mobilised me, made my heart beat, and where I felt like living. A moment outside the habitual contingencies (work, family, etc.) and pressures of all kinds, where I had the support to find myself, to question myself, my life, and others. A time during which I felt that we are still tasting a good life, and failing this, it is perhaps necessary to accept unavoidable contingencies by living them as close as possible to the heart of ourselves.
Hussein, Lyon

Fariyal Wallez

Following a foundation in art and design, I studied for a degree in Architecture at Sheffield University, where I was awarded the Dr Brian Wragg Prize in Architectural Draughtsmanship and Undergraduate First Prize in the BCA's nationwide competition, Concrete Odyssey for the Millennium. I worked in Berlin for several years on large scale Government and social housing projects before winning a scholarship to study at the Architectural Association, London. It was while writing my post-graduate thesis, Cities of the Min(e)d, a narrative exploration of memory and home in post-war Sarajevo, that I felt compelled to reassess my career. Bearing witness to the physical and psychological damage borne by the city and its inhabitants in the aftermath of the Balkan war, I knew that I wanted to inspire people towards a sense of “being without doubt,” to feel whole and at home in their skin.

Subsequently, I trained as a coach and transitioned into leadership and management development. From 1999, I worked with several London based consultancies, where client projects included coaching senior leaders, delivering accredited coaching programmes, facilitating action learning groups and psychometric assessments for directors and managers.

In 2012, I established my own coaching business with the aim of redefining and integrating our relationship to creativity within the modern context of our complex lives. My clients are people beginning to question society's measures of ‘success.’ They want to move beyond the strictures of beliefs and self-limitations towards the freedom of living a fulfilling, healthy and balanced life.

Throughout my career, I have had the opportunity of working with clients in a diverse range of professions, including the Creative Industries (architecture, music, TV, fashion, exhibition design, media, writing, PR and advertising), Investment Banking, Government Departments and Agencies, Law, Consulting, Health and Education.

Being a great believer in inspiring by example, I also maintain a lifelong practise of nurturing my own creative passions alongside my vocation as a coach. These include figurative painting and drawing, writing (fiction and non-fiction), dancing (flamenco and tango), and theatre design.

Blog
Manifesto for Making Space

Every morning, I sit in my chair next to the floor to ceiling window that looks out onto the back garden. For a minute or so, I take in the flowers and bushes, full with large green leaves that have burst forth after several rainy days, and my eyes draw upwards, as always, towards the sky and the light. I wiggle and get comfortable, legs uncrossed, feet flat on the floor, hands resting one above the other with the thumbs touching (known in Zen as the Cosmic Mudra). Then, I close my eyes and take three deep, slow breaths to release the stress from my body and centre myself. In the fourth breath, my attention shifts to my mind's eye, and I ‘speak’ two words to myself. Make space. It is at this moment, the real practice of meditation begins.

Throughout human evolution, making space has involved the literal expansion of Life into the blackness beyond the exosphere, the outermost layer of Earth's atmosphere. Scientists have theorised, made mathematical models, and carried out thousands of experiments to define, describe, and understand the Universe. And while it is possible for the human brain to intellectualise a model relating the farthest reaches of this blackness to the tiniest space between a single atom of hydrogen and its nucleus, there is in fact, nothing that we can know with 100% certainty. Science is always based in measures of probability. One story in the search for the meaning of life.

In meditation, my attempt to make space is like reversing the direction of a spacecraft, which instead of racing to leave Earth's atmosphere through temperatures of up to 1500 degrees Celcius, moves inwards into the realm within my body, to investigate how I experience life through my senses, brain, mind, desires, values and dreams.

After telling myself to make space, the immediate next thought that comes into my mind is a question. Make space for what? I clear out clothes I do not wear from my wardrobe in order to make space for more clothes. I give away novels I will never read again to a charity so that I can make space for more books. I throw away out of date food from the fridge freezer to make space for more food. I tidy away materials and tools in the studio to make space for painting more canvases. I even make space in my brain for accumulating more knowledge. And so it goes on, ad infinitum…

Yet, when I remove the ‘…for what?’, it is necessary to move beyond the physical and open a whole other can of worms in a world where the ever-present pressure for accumulating more stuff is felt at every turn, and which cannot endure indefinitely. Because making space requires giving up the modern global belief that a successful and meaningful life is an ever-increasing Golden spiral of economic exchange and profit. In reality, it is a quantum leap in thinking, to consciously make less, not more, of everything.

Making space is growing less, but more nutritious, food. And also eating less (where rich countries redistribute the surplus to poorer countries, because there is plenty enough to feed everyone on the planet). It is giving up the delusion that a diet pill will make me slim and healthy, while I have no discipline to stop over-eating. It is understanding that eating less, in general, counteracts the fat, cholesterol and calcium deposits that cause blockages and inhibits the flow of blood through my arteries.

Making space is producing less humans on the planet. Because a global population that keeps increasing, will at some point use up the available resources and sway the precarious balance of all life on Earth. According to one study in 2017, having one less child in a wealthy country can reduce a family's carbon footprint by up to 58.6 tonnes per year over an 80-year lifespan*.

Suddenly, I am aware that my breathing has quickened, and my attention has exploded into a profusion of intellectual distractions. And I have to bring it back with effort, back to my body and the chair I am sitting on.

Making space is being aware of my breath. To be still for ten minutes each day and intentionally slow my breathing to its natural rhythm of respiration, inhaling oxygen and exhaling carbon-dioxide. I am making space in my lungs and abdomen, and throughout the muscles and sinews of my limbs, right to the extremities of my feet, toes, hands and fingers.

Making space is using my breath to push outwards from the solid, hard mountain of a problem I cannot solve. Because when I enlarge the boundary, the problem has room to breathe and move, and space to untangle itself and show me a way through that I have not yet thought of.

Making space is to exercise and move my body. It is stretching on tip-toe, my arms as high above my head as I can go, and breathing out to bend and touch the ground as far as the spine will fold. Each vertebra and spinal disc will thus stretch to make space, and counteract the compression exacted over decades of wear and tear.

Making space is allowing my mind to rest. I do not say brain, because to rest my brain would mean stopping its function to keep my heart beating and my lungs breathing. A restful mind makes space between one thought and the next, slowing down thought production, because in any one day day, I can only act on a limited number of thoughts. And it is wiser, more useful, positive and constructive to choose to act on thoughts that create joy and love and connection and growing together.

Making space is staying with the discomfort of boredom, so that I can listen and hear what I am telling myself about who I believe I am, and what I think I am capable of.

Making space is sleeping peacefully, so that my dreams can resolve and integrate the emotional onslaught of all that my senses battle through each day.

Making space is writing in my journal all the words that run amok in my mind that I do not need. Memories of past events, experiences and relationships that persist and petrify into habits, which limit my growth and take away the freedom to embrace uncharted waters.

Making space is appreciating all that I am in the present moment, for through breathing, I embody the gift of life. And until I reach my dying breath, breath is the fuel of life, the most valuable form of energy on the planet.


* The climate mitigation gap: education and government recommendations miss the most effective individual actions. By Seth Wynes and Kimberly A Nicholas.

Breathe

Rest weary traveller in the twilight mist of the glade
Pause upon the rings of a fallen tree as the daylight slowly fades
Unburden your back of the stick and bundle you carry with glee
For you cannot know its true weight while you are unable to set it free

I know you have carried it far, this bundle you treasure
Full of shiny objects gathered for good measure
Hard won trinkets I’m sure, yet lacking in substance
For they will tarnish with time and become a weightless existence

This stick, however, which has served you so well,
To ferry your riches after the mad rush to buy and sell.
It has been your companion through countless terrains of sludge
Your leaning post on days when tired limbs no longer budge

I will meet you in the glade, fellow traveller of the night
And ask how often you have used that stick, so deceptively light
To cane and beat into the pores of your skin
Such stories of guilt and shame inherited from your kin

Have you not suffered as one must, for duty and gain
The cruelty of vultures clawing deep into your pain
And I will say to you, nay, I will implore
Calm your beating heart and witness all that it endures

Breathe!

Breathe in the gentle sunlight that swirls and eddies from the East
Listen to the sound of the cool wind as it whispers through Nature’s feast
Sometimes quiet and melancholy, or rushing loud with a whoosh through the reeds
Feel the texture of its breath lifting away the veils of power and greed

Breathe!

Allow breath to seep and burrow into your flesh
To excavate the darkness and unbraid its solidified mesh
Give breath your tears, which have drowned in lakes and floods
In exchange for a kiss, an embrace, a cherished gaze from your beloved.

Painting Portraits

The first self portrait I painted was in sixth form college, aged eighteen. A three-colour painting in blue, green and white of a sad and pensive young woman seated on the floor, her head and unkempt long black curls laying at an angle on one raised knee, looking into a mirror. At home, there was no study desk, so large drawings and artwork had to be done on the dining room table or on the floor. I did not paint another self portrait for almost thirty years, until I joined a weekly art class in a small French village, when I used photographs and found images to create a series of three self portraits in oil, titled Fear, Guilt and Rage.

In the two years I studied figure and portrait at art school in London, I’ve done several self portrait drawings and etchings, and I’ve noticed that I do not like to look at myself in the mirror for long periods of time, even after the initial discomfort of staring into my own eyes dissipates and my attention is wholly focused on the drawing. I prefer to draw and paint other people, attend to someone outside of my small, insular mind-world. To be in a room with a life model, who is willing to keep still and be intently observed for many hours feels an incredible privilege. I have an abundance of time to measure and draw, mix paints and mediums, experiment with composition, colour and scale, explore light and shadow, all in the search of that elusive magic; to create a masterpiece.

My desire to tell stories underpins everything that drives my art. It has always been there. In the first human tribes who told stories around a fire, in my childhood obsession for Bollywood films, in the poems I wrote as a teenager, and in the characters I created to inhabit and move through the buildings I designed. Coaching is an extension of this desire in making space for clients to express their own life stories.

The human experiential realm is the pounding heart of all my creative endeavour, and I believed that portraiture could be a direct thread into the web of another human life. Bypassing the filter of words and language, I wanted to render in paint memories of joy, happiness, love, and pain, elements of history, family, and education. To paint the story of a life model that is etched into the creases and wrinkles and folds of the flesh. That singular alchemy of forces which combine to create a unique human individual.

Yet the more portraits I paint, I cannot help but think that I am moving further and further away from the tale I intend to tell. The model sits in a chair, sometimes with background hangings or with various objects, fruit or flowers added to compose a context. As I observe and draw and mix paints, I am wholly engaged in the task at hand; the neutral stance of my body, the intuitive communication between my eyes and fingers that move brush and paint within the parallel world of the canvas. I do not notice that in her unnaturally still pose, my model has in fact become a still life. And as I work to gauge how much blue, red, light, dark, shape, tone, the stillness creates a distance between me and my model subject. For even though I know that some artists converse with their models while they paint, I am not able to attend to the alternate world of my canvas and the human dimension simultaneously. There forms a crack in the ground between me and she, a fissure delineating a vast distance, which thrusts my arrogance into my own face. My finished painting may have a semblance of physical likeness, but how dare I imagine that I could tell her story?

To observe and paint another’s face and skin and torso and limbs is to capture nothing essential of who that individual really is. The niceties of small talk does not even scratch the surface, because without the same sustained attentiveness that I give to my painted world, I cannot know anything of my model’s life story; where and how she was raised, whether she has siblings, what her favourite subjects at school were, how she experienced her first love, and loss, her previous jobs, and secret fears. In truth, I know nothing of the story I had desired to tell.

In all the hours and days I have been painting, I have merely been looking into a mirror, perceiving and interpreting my own story onto another’s physicality. A kind of obfuscated self portrait, I suppose. It seems impossible to truly paint her story when I cannot stand in two worlds at the same time. For I cannot paint and communicate in our one sharedi medium, words and language, at the same time. In conversation, it is necessary to listen. Really listen. Which requires an engagement of all my senses to be present to this living, breathing human, who is in constant motion.

She is not a still life. And neither is her story. Thus the dilemma of painting a portrait goes on.

Meditation on Relationship

I step into the flat and the first thing I feel is the silence. Not heavy or foreboding, just its presence; solid, encompassing nothingness. I am back from holiday. My home is unfamiliar to me after two weeks, which is enough time to shed the habitual repetitions of living and moving in this space where I succumb to the daily habits of sleeping, waking, eating, washing, painting, and occasionally smoking. This sudden sense of discombobulation is unnerving. Home is the place where I am supposed to feel comfortable in my skin, breathe with ease, sleep soundly. But I do not feel at home.

My mind goes to the flat in Lyon where I have been cat-sitting for a friend. I recall her saying how much she appreciates me taking care of her cat. Really, it is Monsieur Mogg who has been taking care of me. Only when he is not present in my environment do I notice the invisible threads of relationship. The unfathomable sense of a companion creature who speaks a language not of words, but of the eyes, a sharpening of the ears, a cocking of the head, the pulse of breath undulating from his belly and through his fur like sand dunes in the Sahara. In the heat of the summer, he lies on the floor, his legs extended front and back to have as much of his body area as possible touching the lowest, and therefore coolest, part of the flat. We exist, the two of us, like Yin and Yang, walking around each other and passing through rooms as though dancing a slow, heart-pounding tango. We do not touch (Monsieur does not like to be constantly stroked) and in this unspoken understanding, we give each other the freedom to be.

Back home in London, I lie in bed and find it unusually difficult to fall asleep. I long for someone to be lying next to me holding my hand. Simply this. For someone to say, it’s going to be okay, I’m here with you and we’ll get through this together. The physical aching is just an expression of my body’s need for emotional comfort. We call it love, sometimes. It is compassion, empathy, acceptance, a witness to who I am. The greatest privilege of being in relationship is getting out of my head and focusing on the needs of someone or something else on a daily basis. To love another with kindness. How wonderful to wake up and go to sleep with the sense of my heart’s connection to another living being. To be utterly vulnerable and not feel so alone in my little corner of the world. This is what Monsieur and I ddid for two weeks. Take care of each other and be witness to each other’s life.

It occurs to me that so many of my relationships with people have been fraught with tension. One-upmanship, competition, measures of worthiness, flirtation, manipulation, sexual prowess, standards of beauty, expectations, and so on. The list is endless because the reasons and justifications for “power over” in any relationship are endless.

On holiday in Lyon, I spent some wonderful days with my ex-husband, Denis. My friends regularly ask whether we will get back together again, but this is an erroneous question. On this visit, I realise the real power of relationship lies in the willingness to clear away memories of the past, both good and bad. I used to be terrified of forgetting the incredible years we had together. In hindsight, I see that the mind mostly holds onto the bad experiences (our defensive animal nature), solidifying the reasons for why I was right and he was wrong during the time of our separation. The seismic leap to “forgive and forget” means we can both love each other for who we are in the present, creating a new relationship which often feels more profound than the previous one.

Every relationship has a beginning and an end. Nothing that lives and breathes lasts forever. So I hone in on the present. The Now. And in the now, my objective reality is that I live on my own. However, I am not alone. I sit in the garden and watch the plants gently swaying. I listen to the wind rustle through the trees as I quietly smoke a cigarette (the paradox that I may be killing myself is not lost on me). I feel Nature breathing as I am breathing. I have no idea what will unfold tomorrow, no matter how many narratives my imagination lets loose in my mind. I feel the longing, the sting of water in my eyes, the tears as they roll down my cheeks. And to feel these vibrations and rhythms of life, as vast as the sky and oceans that take a unique form, moment to moment, day to day, season to season, is something to be grateful for. Because even though I may wish to dance with joy and happiness and love and fulfilment all of the time, what a relief it is to also know that sadness, fear, grief and anger are not constant. Every feeling and emotion expressed will pass in time, and remembering this, I see all emotions are equal.

And what kind of relationship will I choose? I have made my mind up not to resist the ebb and flow. To accept with grace my body, feelings, emotions, thoughts, dreams, stories, longings, and all experiences. One day, all of it will pass.

Solitude

15 March 2020. It is the first day of an emergency two-week lockdown in Spain (which would be extended to a total of 8 weeks). We are to stay in our homes and only go out for food supplies or medicines. It is an unprecedented and highly conflictual imposition on people's civil liberties, but the only way to counteract the infectious disease claiming lives by the thousands on a daily basis. Though it feels shameful to admit, my immediate reaction is a huge sigh of relief. Not because I am doing my part to protect myself and my community, but because I suddenly feel released from the burden of having to meet people, make friends, learn a new language, increase my knowledge of local culture and history, and all the other demands of moving to a foreign country.

While many people were horrified at the prospect of isolation or being on their own for such a length of time (which in hindsight had both positive and negative consequences), the pandemic gave me the gift of solitude. It was my chance to reclaim a sacred space, where there was no one to judge me, control me, or pressure me, neither externally nor by self-imposition.

I made it my mission to dance for an hour every morning, eat healthily and write. I wrote every day, including the weekends, because time had lost its rhythm. No one was going out to work and no one was relying on me for anything. I was a lone spirit swimming in the midst of a global catastrophe, somehow oddly at peace with the reality of my mortality. I worked with discipline and even felt reluctant to have video calls with friends and family whom I perceived as invading my solitude. It was a precious and creative cocoon, which had been a dream for many years, though I'd not imagined it in such dire circumstances.

I used to believe that solitude was a self-indulgent luxury; wasted time and energy in the art of navel-gazing, which does very little for the greater good of societal productivity. Since childhood, I believed my wanting to be by myself was wrong. I had to trick my grandparents and aunts (with whom I lived) into thinking that solitude was really for the purpose of doing my homework or studying for a test at school. I had to pretend that having time for myself was not my preference, but a drudgery for my education, a reason that resonated with the goal to somehow better myself. To have solitude just for being who I was was not the purpose for which I was born, because my waking hours were meant for collective female rituals such as cooking, cleaning, washing, making crafty things for the house and beautifying myself. That I should want to read books, or write, or dance, by myself, for my own enjoyment. God forbid! Such intellectual pursuits were not meant for girls who would grow up to be good and decent Hindu women.

Yet when I got divorced some years ago, solitude became a necessity, a sanctuary of time to grieve. I remember a similar feeling when I came to London at six years old to live with my family in a council flat in Finchley. My three sisters and I shared a bedroom, sleeping top-to-toe, two of us in each bunk bed. An entire bedroom for one child was unheard of in the context and time my parents lived in. There was a damp spare bedroom where none of us could sleep and nothing was ever done to get it fixed. My mother used it as a prayer room, for there always had to be an altar for the gods and the dead, who did not live on this earthly plane. In that crowded flat, I felt suffocated living with a family I barely knew, and hated returning from school to a home where my sisters bullied and fought and swore relentlessly. To be with them meant facing the constant threat of anger and violence, which multiplied threefold when my mother got home from work.

So what does a child do in this situation? I retreated into my mind — into books and stories and studying. I think I made an unconscious decision to prefer everything that was different from my sisters so I didn't have to belong to the family collective; solitude gave me strength and made me resilient.

After my marriage ended, however, solitude was a conscious choice. It was the most difficult experience of my life, when the woman I'd believed myself to have evolved into over a lifetime, fell apart in a way I could never have predicted. The only thing I knew to do was to submit wholeheartedly to my creativity. Through dancing and writing, I reclaimed a sense of who I am that no other person is able to see or fully comprehend, the deep part of me that is the seat of confidence, courage, self-belief and enduring patience, which cannot be shaken by external events or people.

During lockdown in Spain, solitude was a period of time to live with questions and doubts about the past and future. It was an experience I imagine like the myth of the fire phoenix, when old identity dies and burns, and the phoenix is then reborn with a clean slate of innocence to create a new life. Even now that I am back in London, as the pre-pandemic ‘crazy, busy’ returns with a vengeance, I am determined to hold this solitude at the centre of my core. To make time and space to be still, on my terms alone. In lockdown, I completed my novel, and despite much encouragement from friends and family, I have decided not to publish it. Because to say NO in a society that is obsessed with global self-promotion of all that was once sacred is my choice and my responsibility.

All You Need is Love

It is February in London. The bone-chilling force of the wind seeps stealthily between the woollen layers of my coat, scarf and gloves, then jacket, jumper and vest. My muscles are braced tense against the cold, my arms and hands wrapped tight around my torso, as though I could squeeze myself to the point where my skin would become impermeable to the freezing temperature outside. Strangely, this is also how I sleep at night, arms wound around my chest. When my eyes are closed, the only world I can see is within, inside my mind and breath. With my arms I am trying to contain the vast and howling emptiness within, craving in the darkness for numb unconsciousness.

This concave curled-up-like-a-caterpillar position of the body is often associated with a sense of protection, when the spine curves to shield softer internal organs; seeking safety, comfort, or a rallying stance to shut out the external world. Like every human being, I began the adventure of life in this foetal position within my mother's womb, where my skin was vital for receiving nourishment from the environment. I imagine my mother nourished her own connection to me, the child growing within her body, by regularly touching and feeling the skin of her stomach.

Touch is the primary experience of love. When a father cradles his new born baby, when a mother gives milk from her breast, when a parent is willing to wash and clean their toddler and gently rock her to sleep, they are giving love. Sadly, by the time I became a child and was finally able to coordinate my limbs enough to reciprocate my parents' love, my father was no longer alive and my mother was exhausted with the grief of having lost him.

I don’t know exactly when the shift occurred. Perhaps it was a gradual acceptance of breathing into my lungs the stifling air of religion and the eternal shame of being born a girl, but we became a family who did not do hugging. My mother was a single parent with a full time job and raising four children. Skin to skin was a rushed affair; soaping and scrubbing in the bath, yanking knots and plaiting hair, or slapping in admonishment for misbehaving and fighting with my sisters.

Children do not necessarily understand their craving of love through touch, but they are highly adaptable. I thought I could win my mother's love with my smart brain. I studied hard and achieved top grades in my class throughout junior school and secondary school. Following my A Levels, I decided to study Architecture because it integrated my skill in maths and my love of art and design. I assumed my mother would be proud that I was the first of her daughters to go to university. Until I noticed part way through my studies that her expectations had changed. Sure, she didn't mind that I studied for a while in order to get a decent job, but when she found out it would take 7 years, she was exasperated. “When will you stop this studying lark and get married and settle down? Start living a real life?”

What a disappointment I was. My years of effort had not measured up. So I did the only thing I knew to do. I searched for love's touch elsewhere and ran into the arms of the first man who gave me a gold bracelet (for gold is the preeminent symbol of love for Indians). By then however, I hated my fat body and lumpy skin, and had no idea what it was to feel loved by touch. Losing my virginity (which must be the most horrid expression invented for first physical love) gave me no joy, because I did not love myself and had no confidence in my own worth. So I could not see what any man would find loveable about me.

Yet I carried on searching. And although I see it only in hindsight, I embarked on numerous, and ultimately disastrous, relationships because I was desperate to be touched. My skin constantly longed to feel that essential experience of love. I wanted to be loved by someone special, who I knew was waiting out there just for me. I believed in the delusion of ‘The One’, who would always keep me safe, take care of me, and with whom my body and skin would grow old.

The realisation was a long time coming. That education and culture is wrong. The dating sites, relationship books, women's magazines, parental advice, all misguided. Because we make the mistake of believing that love comes to us from ‘out there’ and that we have to be ‘good’ people to deserve it. We spend our entire lives in search of love from others, imagining that we need to behave in a certain way or agree to certain conditions in order to receive love's touch. But stop for a moment and look. Our skin, the largest living, breathing sense organ of our body, is permeable both ways. It can absorb touch from the inside out, as well as from the outside in. We are already, and have always been, touched by love, which is within us and in our ability to create and feel in abundance, for ourselves and for everyone else.

And because we are biological, organic, living beings, one day we will die. There are no ifs or buts about this truth. While we are here, however, the relationship we have with our Self is ever-present. And just as our skin and body is continually transforming, so is the potential to love who we are unconditionally.

The next time you feel like curling up like a caterpillar in isolation, go beyond the defence mechanisms. It is a simple change in direction to go within and be vulnerable to accepting and loving yourself in the moment. No matter how vast the chasm of emptiness feels, love is not about filling it with heart-shaped cushions, jewellery, chocolates, or expectations. Give the love within your skin space to unfurl its wings and fly.

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