Lush hangers on

Looking out in the garden today, the juicy colours of Autumn merge with with hangers on from summer. Deep, dark claret geraniums and petunias still flower while the fuschias hang pinky white heads over the pots like stragglers from last night's party, reluctant to say their farewells and sleep.

Lush terracotta pots full of winter pansies hold the tulip bulbs under cover from enquiring squirrels. Piano sounds deepen in the background; the soundtrack in tune with the dripping of rain coming through the kitchen ceiling once more.

Perhaps next Spring, we'll finally fix this roof. Meanwhile it steadily re-assures me that nature will always win over our efforts to get the world in order.

Finding the muse

Scribble ends and writing really begins when I get in touch with the core of who I am, and relate to the world in a clear, non-judgmental way. Then I find the 'muse', a relationship to explore. It can be an abstract concept like freedom, or specific, tangible objects like the white hollyhock flowers braving out the Autumn weather that I see today from my window.

Last night I listened to some words from the author of 'The Artist's Way' Julia Cameron. It reminded me that creativity is a spiritual pursuit. When we take time for our creative exploration, we get in touch with our 'spirit' and that powerful, broader connection that makes the world a joined up place of similar souls.

Yet how easy it is to feel guilty about taking the creative time out. Julia has three guiding principles, her core tools that permeate her works.
1. Morning pages - where you write three pages of 'stream of consciousness' writing each day. This is relatively easy to do.
2. The Artist's Date - where you take yourself off on a solo, fun date each week. Time with yourself to explore an art gallery, a creative shop to buy sticky gold stars, anything that calls to you. This is where guilt sets in. 'Should I do this?'
3. Walk - a daily walk in the park, garden, beach, nature.

To Julia's ideas I would add my own muses- the discipline of a regular yoga practice, facing the blank mat like the blank page and allowing the movement to come from within. Contact with damp soil in the garden energises me as does the dynamic of the game of tennis.

As you allow yourself creative disciplines, make them personal rituals, so you find your muse.

Fiona's new novel

Many people I speak to never get round to reading fiction except on holiday, so it's good news that Fiona Robyn is going to blog her next novel, Thaw, starting on the 1st of March next year. The novel follows 32 year old Ruth?s diary over three months as she decides whether or not to carry on living.



To help spread the word she?s organising a Blogsplash, where blogs will publish the first page of Ruth?s diary simultaneously (and a link to the blog).



She?s aiming to get 1000 blogs involved ? if you?d be interested in joining in, email her at fiona@fionarobyn.com

Bid for freedom

Over the last couple of weeks I've been interviewing dozens of people for the new book: 'Live Life. Love Work.' All,,without exception, have stated the need for space in their lives. However content and motivated with work, they still need gaps to refresh and re-generate in whatever form that takes.

Underneath the most succesful career, there's still a human being that craves personal freedom. Without that space to breathe, I believe that our lives are not sustainable.

Monday morning

When things are all darting around in my head, if I can take 30 minutes to walk in the woods, they shape up in new ways. How fortunate am I to have a small lake and woodland just around the corner from my home. So in minutes, I can shift from this tapping into my laptop to feeling the soft, peaty forest floor creeping into my walking shoes. There's a timeless quality at the lake which reminds me that I'll be long gone when others are striding out on those paths.

On Monday mornings, with things to do and places to go, it's easy to forget this. Now I go back to work from a contented place.

Reverting to type

It's been a few weeks since my standing and staring has arrived on the page. The hollyhocks I nurtured were once all shades of ruby and peachy pink. They've gone all white now, in strong contrast to the Stipa Gigantea.

Under pressure, I too revert to type. Once calm and collected, next anxious and snappy. Sorry folks. I like humans to join harmoniously, form connections and have fun - rather like my plants do.

Confidence tips from an Olympic Champion

Strawberries and Pimms. Boaters and blazers. The entertainment and gazebos on the banks of the River Thames at Henley this week mask the tough challenges of Olympic-level competition.

Over tea with Steve Williams, Captain of the world-renowned Leander Rowing Club and holder of gold medals in the coxless four from the Athens and Beijing Olympics, I learn Steve’s take on building self-confidence.

“The start line is the most powerful place to be. This is where you need to be in control of your confidence,” Steve tells me. Of all the skills to race at this level, he highlights mental resilience as number one.

“The moment when you’re drowning in your thoughts is when you need to make sense of the mess.”

Steve’s journey from school and university teams to the glory of the Olympic honours as part of Team GB is not for the faint-hearted. His graphic tales of the physical pain to all parts of the body, the daily 5.30am alarm calls to a cold boathouse, and just one day off a month from training demonstrate the tough regime.

As much as Steve always desperately wanted and trained extremely hard to become Olympic Champion, he now sees that, in the early years, self doubt was eating away at his confidence and holding him back from achieving his dream. "I could see how Steve Redgrave and Matt Pinsent, with long arms and legs and big heart and lungs were 'born winners' but I'm just a normal guy. Even though it was just tiny, that self doubt was there".

Steve's first Olympic experience was missing out on selection for the Sydney 2000 team and instead he had to go as only a 'travelling spare'. A very painful time even now; Steve's lowest point was also the turning point for his career. He spent the time on the sidelines watching and learning from those that were winning Olympic Golds. "The most important thing I took away from Sydney was that not all Olympic Champions had superhuman physiologies - some were even smaller than me!" Steve came home with the mantra "Even normal people win Gold Medals" and all the barriers were gone. Nothing could stop him now.

Steve’s first major lesson in building his mental resilience was to truly believe in himself. “You need to be able remind yourself of how good you are, your personal best, when it gets really tough.”

Fast forward a few years. Steve was picked and succeeded in Athens (the medal is beautiful). Yet a few years later he realised that self-belief is not enough to continue to win. In the run up to Beijing, the competitors were catching the British team up until by 2007 they were dropping to 4th place in the world. “We could easily have lost all confidence.”

The plan was good; the execution of the plan wasn’t paying enough attention to detail – a second learning in building confidence. So the team re-aligned itself to one big, shared purpose: everything they did was geared to ‘make the boat go faster’. Instead of focusing on the massive end goal of winning at the finish line, the team set smaller milestones and measures until it could consistently race to half-way mark in record time – achieving its personal best of 1000 metres in 2 minutes 47 seconds.

Another key change encouraged all in the team to give positive, critical feedback. “Anything could be said, so long as it focused on our shared purpose – to make the boat go faster.”

Steve says that you can’t afford to have good days and bad days; every day, you need to be ready to receive the medal. By now, the team had bullet-proof confidence at the start of every race. “We focused on our personal best and went out to perform it like any other regular day on the river, the only difference was that, in competition, the stakes were a mile higher.”

Steve’s top tips for building self-confidence that we can all apply are:

• Develop your mental resilience through believing in yourself, knowing that you are good enough.
• Have a strong plan to win, yet execute it with attention to the smallest details.
• Get regular, critical feedback.
• Start every day focusing on being the very best you can be.
  

The Thin Line

'Intruders Keep Out'. Every home could post a severe warning at its entrance. I'm weeding the front borders of this ancient farmhouse where wild Valerian spills onto the gravel and meshes with tough grass and bramble.

Wearing the owner's gardening gloves, wielding her secateurs, I hack back enthusiastically. Until I'm struck by a deep sense of intrusion. "Is this what she wants?" I ask myself and tread the fine line from helpful to intrusion.

Stepping back to her seat beneath the vine, I sense my job is to cut out damage while keeping the beauty of gentle leaves and deep pink flower heads that frame the doorway to the house.

As temporary custodian of the space, I take the gardener's Hippocratic oath, promising to leave the garden in good health, treat it with respect and encourage it to thrive for years to come.

The Tango Lesson

Any skill develops with practice; get out of practice and you feel uncomfortable. As your practice develops, you forget the time when it was new and difficult to learn.




The Argentinian tango night at Reading's Canoe Club creates a strange mix of pleasure and pain. Pleasure to see familiar faces and hear the music. Pleasure to be close to the River Thames on a Saturday night, taking the pulse of the river and admiring candlelight from the terrace.




Pain reflects my embarassment and lack of control. Memories of lessons past drift in and out as I pivot clumsily and accept invitations to dance with strangers. The negative voices rise in my head: "You can't remember the steps;" "You could have bought a new dress;" "You're out of your depth." Can I go home yet?



I stop. I turn around and notice the other dancers of all shapes, sizes and ages. Experts encourage newcomers to join the dance regardless of faltering steps and moments of indecision. I remind myself that I have chosen a difficult dance and allow myself to enjoy the learning right now. Skill grows with practice and encouraging teachers: the real tango lesson.

Switching to Plan B

Like a child let loose on the 'pick and mix' sweet counter, I'm back from the local home-grown plant nursery and the old Peugeot is stuffed with a chaotic array of plants. This time last year, I filled five large terracotta pots with deep red agyranthemums, lime green surfinia petunias, variegated nepeta and felicia. All happily co-existed on the patio through an unpredictable and damp summer.



I had a stylish, winning formula to repeat.

By March, the plan began to go awry: first, the frost-free greenhouse heater cut out and the strident agyranthemums died a black death. Lime green petunia plugs bloomed a lurid fuschia pink - not too tasteful. So I created a neat plant shopping list on Saturday to save the day, and the plan fell apart completely: I was beaten to the nursery by earlier plant hunters.

Instead I returned with blue/black salvias, juicy big begonias, ornamental millet, trailing indian mint and zig zag scaevola to live with the dark trailing geraniums and fushias I've been nuturing.

As I look out on the garden now, they're a happy bunch of companions with the moon shining down - chirpily random and just not what I'd planned. When work is challenging, I tell my clients to have the plan and be willing to adapt to circumstances. After all, the formula worked for Charles Darwin. Now I'm swallowing my medicine to see how it all grows.

From the Cafe at the Water's Edge

Behind the lumps of jagged rocks, layers of turquoise and petrol blue sea ripple over the stones. Ahead, the low-lying mountains dip into the cool sea. Only with time to sit and stare, do I notice the crocodile shape of the landscape.

In such a place, I grow two hours older without question, simply content to absorb the warmth through every pore of my body. The flower be-decked terrace offers gentle shade. The photo reveals a limited shot. Being here in the moment, I appreciate the patient continuity of the sea in motion, framing the busyness of Greek cooks pitting olives and cherries, the blonde young mother exploring rock pools, hand in hand with her lithe, demanding young son.

An old man rides his motorcycle slowly past, his labrador is attached by rope lead and jogs ahead to ensure its morning exercise.

Hungry business, this, sitting and sipping coffee.

Let them eat cake

Spattered bits of wholemeal flour and egg adorn the old Cranks cookbook. Page 178 is falling out along with the rest of the old brown pages and we're in danger of losing the Luscious Lemon Cake recipe.

For friends and family, picnics and parties, some recipes need to be handed down. Today it was my monthly writers' workshop and we looked at shifting the words from chaos into order. These writers don't just need space and creative input. Cake fuels the words and helps make delicious connections.

Marie-Antoinette would be pleased: "Let them eat cake!"

For a little batch you need: a 100g butter, 150g sugar, rind and juice of one lemon, 1 egg, 100g of wholemeal self-raising flour. Triple the quantity because one batch is never enough.

Melt the butter and most of the sugar in a pan over gentle heat, stir in lemon rind, whisk the egg and mix it in, fold in the sifted flour, and bake for about 30 mins at 180 or gas mark 4.

Mix the lemon juice and a large spoon or two of sugar in a pan over heat, dribble it over the cake once cooked. (Poke a few holes in the top first.) Eat it before the gannets get it.

Interview with Kate

I've just been interviewed by my friend Ro Gorell on this writing world. See the video here
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VxFCfkzA5wg

Honesty

Honesty (its Latin name is Lunaria) has self seeded right through the dustiest border in the garden, offering a generous flowery white skirt to the new red leaves of the Cotinus Coggyria, the smoke tree. Soon a dark blue clematis will join the party, weaving through the branches.

The honesty came out of nowhere. I didn't consciously plant the seeds.

Watching this 'stuff' happen in the flower beds is like reading Fiona Robyn's new novel 'The Blue Handbag' as it unfolds sentence by sentence. Her book gently records the life of its main character, Leonard, an unassuming gardener mourning the death of his wife Rose. It's a mystery story.

Honesty cannot help but come out bright and white, and I'm anticipating the slow dawning of truth that will appear on the page, as it always does in the end.

Legacy of books and compost

I adore the feel of rich compost in my hands and feet. Gardening in flip flops beckons as the spring warms up. Living here with light sandy soil means I’m constantly improving that quality and gathering every scrap of fruit and vegetable skins, dead flowers and leaves into buckets by the back door.

I also love books and magazines, reading as much as I can to improve the depth of my own writing. This week a friend recycled a feminist title from 1985 called ‘The Dance of Anger’ by Harriet Goldhor Lerner. The author invites us to examine family patterns of behaviour going back through the generations.

Looking at my own family and friendships, I’m connected to women who find a common language through their gardens, giving and gaining pleasure from this space. I’m also mindful how the women in my life have shaped my own beliefs and behaviours, and the values I am passing on to my own daughters as they fly the family home.

Although, Lerner’s book says it’s a woman’s guide, there’s plenty in her stories of value for the men in my life. In my corporate coaching, for example, I always hear the stories of a father’s words to his son played out in another way. The frustrations of a manager with his colleagues so often stem from the family relationships. Our behaviour has deep rooted experiences.

Like a fluent writer, an enthusiastic gardener creates a legacy for the future generation to build on. Today’s fuchsia rhododendron breaking into flower owes its space here in my garden to an adventurous plant hunter travelling in the 1800s.

Yesterday’s rain combined with this morning’s sun loosens the soil for me to grab the emerging bindweed before it strangles the spinach and rocket seedlings in the veg patch. Yesterday’s apple cores and red pepper seeds will provide the compost to nurture the next generation.

A poem for claiming your space

Turquoise Moments - a poem

It doesn’t excite me that you have a ‘to do’ list written late last night, that you’re working through dutifully until you can live your life. I want to see you wake up free to face each day, as master of your time.

I don’t want to feel you pushed and pummelled low, made small by others’ power. I want to hear you claim your rightful space and energy allowing it flow free, leaving your own footprints in the wet sand.

It doesn’t interest me when you hold back from resentment, anger or obligation. I want to know that you honestly accept each challenge face on, and ride the downhill bumps with exhilaration in your hair and shouting ‘Yes!’.

I don’t want to find you shattered into pieces, like feathers on the wind, with body and mind out of synch. I need to you to be wholehearted, fresh and healthy. Truly alive in the moment.

It saddens me when you are buffeted relentlessly by every storm. I want you to know you can find a safe haven that you can return to within yourself, time after time, and create the anchor of your being.

I want to know if you can live your life, stand on the edge and fly, not hang around in the shadows. There’s just one of you.

The turquoise moments beckon from the mountain tops. They call you from the depths of the ocean.

Copyright Kate Burton April 2009

Stand by Me

Some mornings there are just snippets of turquoise moments, short times that make you feel good. I love the international connections that come unexpectedly when the world seems joined up. Here's one such moment that just popped into my email just now, thanks to a French coach who I haven't yet met in person, Tini Korner...

http://www.musicme.com/Playing-For-Change/videos/Stand-By-Me-0888072313071.html

I'd like to dedicate it to one of the attendees on my kick-start writers' workshops: Glenis and the book she's writing called 'Stand By Your Man' which is the tale of supporting her husband through the diagnosis and treatment of prostate cancer.

Who are you standing by and who is standing by you?

Blue diamonds

Blue Diamond tulips are taking pride of place in the garden this week. While much of the garden appears random, the tulips are deliberate. Last autumn I sifted through varieties I’ve enjoyed in the past and chose the best performer. I ordered a job lot and planted seven large terracotta pots with shades of blue winter pansies and the tulips tucked beneath.

Of all the flowers in the garden, it would be hard not to fall in love with tulips. From the moment they first push through the soil to reveal their sexy heads to the time their petals sag and drop, they have an air of mystery and pleasure. No wonder the Dutch merchants of the 17th century go so mesmerised by them that they bid crazy money for tulip bulbs in their frenzy.

These tulips have an extra poignancy for me. I first chose this variety on the day of a friend’s funeral in the village of Warmond in the Netherlands. As they bloom for the next month, I feel the strength of connection with her and a friendship that began on the first day at university and lasted for 35 years. Such is the power of plants that they connect past, present and future generations.

The writer Paulo Coehlo says that of the thousands of letters he gets from his readers, many of them talk about wanting to be a gardener. That’s no surprise. I well remember days in a corporate office when I’d walk past the gardeners and wish I had their job and not mine. Such is the pull of soil over technology; that much though I love my laptop, the garden would win if forced to make a choice.

All the characters are out here today offering a backdrop to the glamorous and sexy tulips; the bullying Ivy; the sadly deceased Robinia; the sweetly perfumed rounded heads of Virburnum, the blossom of the crab apple; teeny narcissi interspersed with self-seeded stipa tenuissima grasses, deep crimson azaleas and early flowering clematis. Sweet peas are putting down their roots ready to rampage up their supports.

Beneath the surface all the plants display amazing strength and resilience, determined to hold their space and grow up to the light; ready for their moment in the spotlight.