June
We are almost at the end of you — but did I have to wait for inspiration to strike before writing my blog?
I did.
If I try to push, force or manufacture something, it becomes hard and doesn’t feel like a true reflection of me.
We are currently experiencing a heatwave here in Southern France. This is my second summer here, having moved from Ireland. Forty-degree heat takes some navigating, but it also brings a warmth that seems to penetrate the DNA.
The yoga classes I attend are verging on hot yoga — but in a good way. A slower, deeper, lengthening practice. It helps to have an intuitive and gifted teacher.
On Tuesday, during the final section of class and guided meditation, I caught a glimpse of something. The combination of Sylvie’s words, the music, and the connection with our bodies after physical practice brought me into that gem-like space — a deep sense of peace and release.
I’m relating to my space and place differently now.
I am no longer the newcomer.
I have been here for a year and three months.
There has been a considerable amount to navigate. Not just the practicalities of living in another country — language, work, bills and systems — but the deeper process of landing and connecting with a new space and place.
And then there are the inevitable ripple effects.
When you make a life change, those ripples touch family and friends in different ways. Some responses are admiration; some, not so much.
You have no control over that.
My favourite saying at the moment is: “Your opinion of me is none of my business.”
I know it resonates because it makes me smile.
As someone who cares deeply about harmony and people being happy around me, it feels like a departure — but perhaps also a liberation.
Considering the current heat, I’ve been thinking a lot about perspective and suffering.
One person can experience something and remain relatively unaffected; for another, the same experience can feel deeply uncomfortable or painful.
Heat. Relationships. Thoughts.
What happens if we pause and notice our perspective?
A moment of reflection can create enough space to become more objective — to see a situation from another angle, or simply interrupt the knee-jerk reaction and potential trigger response.
There is such power in that small choice.
That pause leads to action.
It can begin to soften old cycles, loosen conditioning and interrupt familiar patterns.
Small — but mighty.
It is also a way of saying no to victimhood, story and drama.
So much of what we think and decide is created internally, often with very little basis in fact — and yet we suffer nonetheless.
What if we could reduce some of that suffering?
What if, instead of trying to work out why someone said something, did something, hurt us or offended us… we simply noticed ourselves doing it?
As sensitive beings, we often have a strong drive to understand behaviour — our own and other people’s.
It’s exhausting.
What if we invited ourselves to stop?
Not forever. Just long enough to interrupt the loop.
I know it takes practice to alter patterns that feel second nature. But it isn’t impossible.
First comes awareness.
Then comes choice.
Back to the heat.
I’ve been observing my response to it and, surprisingly, it’s been pretty chilled.
It helps that I have wonderful, generous neighbours with a pool and work that is flexible and autonomous.
I also had some medical appointments recently and found myself entering a vulnerable enough space at times.
Having an extensive nursing background, one thing I know deeply is the importance of presence.
Whether in someone’s home as a District Nurse or in a corporate setting, bringing softness to an interaction matters.
You can become an invitation for someone to connect more honestly when there is warmth.
People relax.
People talk.
And when people are given permission to talk, magic can happen.
You can go places together that neither of you anticipated.
The annoying persistent rash they casually mention turns out to connect with the stress of becoming a new parent.
Or the beautiful person who appears to have it all — beauty, relationship, friends, career — quietly admits that they no longer want to be here, and for the first time finds the courage to say it out loud.
We never really know what someone is carrying.
Perhaps presence is enough.
Perhaps warmth is enough.
Perhaps sometimes, in the middle of heat, change, discomfort and uncertainty, all we need is someone who can sit with us long enough for us to hear ourselves again.