Starry Night

Starry Night

by | Sep 23, 2026 | Everyday Magic

Quite a few years ago, not long after I’d moved with my fiancé and our first-born to Gozo, Malta, there was an island-wide power cut. I was out at the time, walking home on my own in the dark. One moment there were street lights lighting my way, the next moment it was pitch black.

I had to stop to let my eyes adjust to the darkness and yes, it freaked me out. I couldn’t see where I was going at all. I couldn’t see anything.

It didn’t take long for my eyes to adjust because it wasn’t pitch black really. When I looked up into the sky it was alive with light.

This was the first time, that I recall, that I had seen the night sky with no light pollution at all. It was a cloudless night and there was nothing to detract from the sheer magnificence of the scene above my head. It was full, every single square inch was full. Packed tight with stars, and so many shooting stars. I stood there, gazing, for quite some time.

All the time I’d been walking in the dark and spotting a handful of stars, thinking that was it. But no, it was nothing compared to this. It was nothing compared to the depth and beauty that I could see on this night.

I haven’t seen a night like that since, I would like to.

I know it’s there, all the time, I just can’t see it. The lights we use to illuminate our nights hide it so effectively that I forget it’s there.

When I think about that night, I can’t help but draw comparisons with who we are and who we think we are. How layers of fears, experiences, misunderstandings, pain and conditioning can cloud over the light within us, the strength and joy, the ambition and curiosity, the love and connection, the millions of sparks of possibility.

That’s all there too, all of the time, but we can’t always see it and we’re creatures that need to see to believe. And when it’s out of sight, we think it’s gone, we’ve lost something somehow.

I’m sure we all get glimpses at times, ideas that emerge and feelings that tell us that there is more to life than the one we are living. Little hints that beg us to believe that things could be easier and breaks in the clouds of our thinking that let us wonder ‘what else is possible?’

Ebb and Flow

Ebb and Flow

by | Apr 28, 2020 | Everyday Magic

One day you’re walking over a bridge, you look down to see the river flowing beneath it. It’s a slow moving river, meandering gently towards the sea. You throw a stick into the water and watch as it’s taken downstream, bumping into the odd rock here and there, catching in the undergrowth along the sides until the movement of the water pushes it free. You gaze at it floating freely and easily until it is carried out of sight.

You can hear the sound of the wind blowing gently through the trees, the rustling of the leaves. The sun is high in the sky and you feel its warmth on your skin. 

It’s a peaceful day. 

The next day you walk to the bridge again. You don’t know why, but it looks different today. The river doesn’t look as gentle, the rocks look bigger, sharper. The bridge is higher than you remembered, it doesn’t look as stable. The undergrowth looks tangled, raggedy, grasping. There’s nothing inviting about this place and you don’t understand why you though it was so pleasant the day before. 

The trees look menacing almost, they’re dark, foreboding. You shudder, not wanting to walk any further. 

Something catches your eye along the side of the river. You see a movement, a flash of colour. You look closely and see a bird, a kingfisher darting into the water and emerge with a tiny fish. You watch it fly, you lose sight of it. 

You keep looking and something else catches your eye, the river. The sunlight is catching on the surface, dancing circles of shimmering light. You hear the sound of the water as it passes over the stones, the sunlight warms your skin and the breeze dances in your hair. You find a stick and throw it in the river, watching as the water carries it away. 

 

Photo by Davide Dalfovo on Unsplash

Let it Be. Please.

Let it Be. Please.

by | Apr 28, 2020 | Anxiety, Stress and PTSD

One of the turning points, in my recovery from PTSD came in the form of a line in Jamie Smart’s book, Clarity. Now, I’m not entirely sure if this is what he said exactly, but it was something like ‘if it hurts, you can leave it alone’. It made sense instantly. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was as though a huge weight had been taken from me,  

I stopped researching PTSD, I stopped trying to find answers for it, I stopped trying to find groups that could help me, I stopped reading or watching anything whatsoever that triggered me. There was so much that hurt me, I stopped what I could and did things that were softer, easier, fun even. I took up photography and began to focus on the beauty of life.  

It didn’t make everything go away by any means, but I stopped adding to it. 

All of the times I’d get caught up in trying to figure out why things had happened, why I was so messed up, what could I do about it, when were things going to get better, why wasn’t anything working? All it did was prolong the pain. The more I tried to figure things out, the more I hurt, the more I hurt the more down on myself I was because I couldn’t figure it out. This endless cycle caused more and more needless suffering.  

A while later, I looked back and saw a different meaning in the writing. This time I saw that I could leave my thinking alone. If my thoughts started to swirl darker and darker, then I didn’t have to go there, There were times when I  recognised that they were painful and I could leave them alone. So I did that.  

Even later, when I looked back I saw it differently again, I could have those thoughts, they were considerably less painful, but still unpleasant, but I didn’t need to engage with them. I could let them pass. I could feel the pain and discomfort that they brought with them, because I knew they were passing emotions.  

When you find something that makes sense to you, you’ve heard something important, something that’s right for you at this time. You might not understand what it is or why and it could well change over time. That’s all fine. 

For me, I really needed a break from everything PTSD related, my mind needed a break from the endless searching and from the near constant emotional pain and discomfort that I was feeling and that I was innocently causing myself.

In the same way that we would leave a physical injury to heal, we need to let our minds rest. 

It can feel that we need to keep the memories alive, that they are important. It can seem as though more searching will help us to find the answer to take the pain away. It can feel counter-intuitive to let it rest and to give your attention to another part of your life, one that’s easier, but I promise you it will help.  

Pain, whether it is physical or emotional, is a signal to warn you of something that isn’t right. Emotional pain is a big red stop sign asking you to keep away from it. Take notice, let it be, please. 

  

Photo by Dmitry Grigoriev on Unsplash