Dare to Blossom Life Coaching with Mary Lunnen

Reflections: Seeing with new eyes
From my archives: June 2007

Events and ways to Dare to Blossom

Reflections: Seeing with new eyes

Seeing with new eyes - that was the title of the reflections in my first ever newsletter, back in 2007. I began writing a piece that I thought would be for this newsletter a few days ago, in my journal. It was about the pandemic and how I was feeling about the 'magic and madness' of these times. Then I left it a while and kept on seeing more and more personal responses: all genuine and authentic (well, as far as I can tell anyway); all of value. All adding to the onslaught of words being written, and the cacophony of opinions expressed through the media.

So, I took a step back. I decided to 'start close in' in the words of the poem by David Whyte (that link is his general website, this one takes you to the poem on his Facebook page). This morning, when I opened my emails, the first I saw was from my friend Leslie Waugh, with her latest thoughts, with the first line 'start close to home' - such synchronicity, thank you Leslie, and for introducing me to another David Whyte poem Just beyond yourself. I hope this link will take you to Leslie's blog.

Next, I decided to look at my past thoughts for June each year, right back to 2007 (I began these monthly musings in March that year). Some are only available in my personal archives from that year, all since 2011 are on my blogspot page here, and since 2015, here on my website.

I discovered that the titles for the month of June over the years, seen one after the other, look a little like a poem, or maybe a list of writing prompts:

Seeing with new eyes
Watching water
Asking for help
Keeping the flame alive
Strong and True
Blossom, Fruit and Seed 
Endings and Beginnings
Midsummer Magic
Procrastination or Stepping Up
Subject, unknown

What are your first thoughts when you read that list?

Reflections: Curiosity
Book News: "Your Compass Rose Speaks – how to hear the voice of your inner guidance."
Events and ways to Dare to Blossom

Reflections: Curiosity

How are you? That question changes, doesn't it, once we are catapulted into this strange new situation. Now it feels as if we are all unsure of how we are day to day. Excuse me for presuming to speak for you, for all of us, I will return to my usual practice of simply writing from my own feelings. Yet there is a universal quality to the experience we are sharing right now. Even as we all respond differently, from day to day we are united in various ways.

The reason I asked "How are you?" is from concern for each of you who take the time to read this, time to connect. I also ask from a place of curiosity. Curiosity about those similarities we may find, and about the differences. One aspect I have noticed, and I find uncomfortable, is how judgemental I can become - of others, and of myself. Kindness is a good antidote to this, enabling me to soften those attitudes, those harsh judgements.

And so is curiosity. I wonder why I am feeling this way? I wonder why they are behaving like that? I watched a beautiful interview with Elizabeth Gilbert recently on coping with these times. One part that really struck me was when she spoke about 'passion' and about 'purpose', as being too challenging in this situation. As you know if you connect with my work or read these newsletters regularly, those words feature in one of the key components of my process now, The Compass Rose, along with power, progress and peace.

For me, I find that the way I see the Compass Rose, with each of those words rooted into the centre, Peace, where they, and we, are grounded and balanced - that both softens the challenge, and supports me in facing it. Elizabeth spoke about how she prefers to  explore 'curiosity', and this set me on this inquiry, this exploration today, as I sit in the spring sunshine in my garden.

How about if I bring curiosity into my own process, for myself, and with others? For me, there is an immediate sense of lightness, of release. "I wonder..." is a perfect starting point. It helps me quieten that judgemental voice within. It also brings a sense of possibility, of the magical. "What if...?"

Right now these questions are leading me to ask myself: I wonder how to celebrate the fifth anniversary of my very first online Midsummer Magic Carpet Ride Circle. What if I offer a special programme? And, what if we use curiosity to explore the Compass Rose? That was where I left my journal that day in the garden, sitting in the sunshine. More on that later in this newsletter.

Reflections: Waiting
Grounding Meditation: Compass Rose Speaks
Events and ways to Dare to Blossom

Reflections: Waiting

Waiting, waiting, the whole world feels in limbo just now, suspended.... I notice that in the February and March newsletters I wrote about change. None of us knew then just how much would shift and change over these few weeks, here in the UK anyway, and I imagine, for you too wherever you are in the world.

I feel two strange sensations: dizzy, as if my head is spinning from the news each day, and the new restrictions and rules that keep coming in. And, in limbo. Suspended. I see one of those slow motion images (that I personally find a little irritating when over-used) - of someone walking or running very, very slowly.

Waiting, waiting. Here in England we are into our second week of only being allowed out for essential purposes. One of those is exercise, but I am not allowed to drive to the cliffs where I love to walk. I have to start from my door and walk along the farm track, and maybe out onto the lanes. A lovely walk, even if with a different feel to being on the cliffs, and maybe I will when the weather is warmer and the biting cold north-easterly wind has changed direction. I am lucky to have lots of sheltered spots in the garden, so we have been able to sit in the sun with a cuppa several times over the last week.

I have been watching as this rhododendron, which hasn't flowered for several years, gradually opens. I have just reminded myself to go and visit it in a moment.

Reflections 1: The Winds of Change
Reflections 2: "Your Powerful Voice" Online Programme, plus "Percolating and Germinating"
Events and ways to Dare to Blossom

Reflections: The Winds of Change

March is not yet here, yet the wild winds are blowing in that tempestuous way that often welcomes in this month - one of growth and green shoots here in Cornwall. Last month I also wrote about change, and so much seems to have happened since then. As I wrote recently on my website (read more here), I found myself needing to 'live the questions' as I made the decision to cancel what has been my regular group programme throughout the year, and leave space for the new work that is emerging following the publication of The Powerful Voice of the Quiet Ones. To let that go before the new shoots were able to emerge for something fresh.

All the advance orders have now been dispatched and new orders are trickling in. At the same time, it is becoming clear to me that publishing the book, as well as clearing the way for the Compass Rose Speaks book to be finished, is the beginning of my work with 'The Powerful Voice' not the end. More on that below.

If you are in the southern hemisphere, you may be coming into autumn, harvest time, Another time of equinoctial winds, even with a different feeling. Here in Cornwall we are having a normal sort of early spring, with lots of gales and rain and the occasional sunny, but colder, day.

I know that I often resist change. I can be comfortable in a routine, with knowing how things will flow, with plans for many months ahead. I enjoy feeling that security, a sense of control - which is of course often a false one. My life has often been turned upside down by unexpected events. Sometimes difficult ones, sometimes joyful surprises. Over the years I have become a little more accustomed to coping with changes. Often it feels as if these are blown in by a gale of wind.

Recently the real life gales have been so strong, and have brought so much rain along with them, that I have hardly been out walking. I love the wind on the cliffs, when it is strong but not so violent that I feel unsafe. It is exhilarating and enlivening. Last time I visited my favourite spot I found a big change that meant I was unable to walk there and visit the fulmars. (I wrote about them last month too.) Here is a photo from another recent visit, of the cliffs next to the rock arch that is known as Porthmissen Bridge. The ledges are where the fulmars nest, along with kittiwakes and gulls, jackdaws and pigeons.

Reflections: Clearing and Changes
Events and ways to Dare to Blossom

Reflections: Clearing and Changes

February truly feels like the start of a new year for me, New life is beginning to emerge: snowdrops are already in flower, daffodils have put up their leaves and will very soon be brightening the day with the cheerful yellow of their trumpets. The photo above was taken a year or so back, of the miniature daffodils in the pots outside my office door. I am looking forward to when they flower again.

My 'spring cleaning', the electronic version anyway, has taken an abrupt and unwelcome turn due to the failure of the hard drive in my laptop. Thank goodness my files have been recovered, including the book manuscript. All my emails were lost though - so if anyone reading this prefers to be in touch that way, please reply to this so I have your address again. (Of course I have it here, but your permission to use it is only for the purposes of sending out this newsletter).

Welcome to the Dare to Blossom Newsletter 

It seems strange not to have written a December newsletter, as you may know I was travelling at the time I would normally have sent that out to you. So here we are looking ahead to 2020, as well as celebrating all that has happened over the last year.


Reflections: Standing in the Doorway
New Year Coaching Special Offer
Events and ways to Dare to Blossom


Reflections: Standing in the Doorway

Welcome to the first missive of 2020, all being well you will be reading this just before New Year. Sitting to reflect over the last few days, it has taken me a while to find a focus for this piece. So much has happened this year. So much has happened since I last wrote to you, before my magical journey to New Zealand began at the end of November. I feel as if I am literally standing in the doorway between the old year and the new, watching the stars wheel overhead as the year turns. Standing in that liminal space in between, taking a moment to pause, to reflect.

I returned from New Zealand on 6th December, having been away from home for less than three weeks, and in that time having travelled thousands of miles around the globe and back. Some of you joined me in the "Aotearoa Quest" group - it was a huge honour to have the company of a big group of travellers in spirit with me, thank you, thank you.

There were so many levels to my experience of journeying: the physical travel, and the excitement of seeing new places and revisiting familiar ones; the joy of being reunited with my sister and all her wonderfully large family of three daughters, their husbands and the seven children. Not to mention a new group of animal friends: cats, dogs, horses.

This picture, taken from the plane as we flew over the Southern Alps as we arrived, is one of my favourites. Each time I see it I am brought again to that place of wonder and anticipation.

Underpinning all those precious aspects, there is a deeper  journey, my own quest of reconnection with the land of New Zealand, of Aotearoa. A land where I have only lived briefly, the longest period being for about nine months, and yet a land for which  I feel a deep, deep love. It is so different in some ways to my home part of the planet, here in Cornwall, and yet we are all connected through the oceans and our sharing of this precious home world. Much more is emerging as I reflect and write, this piece contains just a few snippets about my journey.