THE SECRET TRAIN - A BEDTIME STORY

“Bed time!” The words that Matthew always hated. “Can’t I stay up a bit longer”, he pleaded but his mother could not be persuaded so, reluctantly, he made his way up stairs, brushed his teeth, donned his super hero pyjamas and jumped into bed. Matthew had learned not to make too much fuss. If he did as he was told, sometimes his mother would let him stay up a bit longer to finish a game or read a story but if he was difficult she became even more strict.

Matthew felt restless but he lay down and closed his eyes trying to nod off to sleep. “I wish our house had secret doors and passages”, he thought so that I could sneak out of bed and explore. He lay there imagining all sorts of adventures that he might have when suddenly he was startled by a bright light on the wall opposite his bed. He rubbed his eyes and, to his amazement, he saw that the light had become a shimmering door. Unable to contain his curiosity, he slid out of bed and approached noticing a large crystal handle that seemed to tell him to turn it and step through the opening.

Matthew opened the door and stepped onto a colourful raised platform above a yellow train track. Before Matthew could take in these strange new surroundings, a voice came over the loudspeakers dotted along the platform. “Next train is for Adventure Land stopping at Susie’s House, Doll City and Teddy Town”. Susie was Matthew’s friend who lived in the next street and he wondered why she had never mentioned that she had a secret station there. As he was thinking about this, he heard a noise to his right and looked up to see a big wooden train with red wheels and a tall blue funnel. It was pulling five open topped carriages in different colours. Green, purple, pink, red and orange. Behind this was a bigger, covered carriage painted blue with a guard poking his head out of its door.

The train stopped at the station and the guard shouted, “All aboard” in a booming voice that sounded very important. Matthew jumped into the red carriage which had four comfy seats, two facing forward and two backwards. Matthew liked to face the direction that the train was travelling so he took his seat just before the guard blew his whistle. The train started rolling and entered a long, dimly lit tunnel. In no time at all, it emerged from the tunnel and into another station where there were lots of flower baskets and pretty paintings on the walls of the waiting room. “Susie’s House”, a voice sounded. “This train is for Adventure Land stopping at Doll City and Teddy Town”.

Matthew’s friend Susie emerged from the waiting room carrying her favourite doll. He was dressed in nothing but a small white nappy and was bald apart from one clump of fair hair that fell into a big curl on the top of his head. Susie often carried him with her and said that his name was Charlie Brown. The name had been given to the doll by her grandfather and had always seemed appropriate so was never changed. Susie caught sight of Matthew and waved. He waved back and opened the carriage door for her to join him in the red carriage although he suspected that she would have preferred the pink one.

“Hello Susie, hello Charlie Brown”. Matthew greeted them with a smile. “How come you have never told me about this train?” he asked trying not to sound annoyed. “It’s a secret train”, replied Susie “and you are only allowed to know about it if the dream weavers build a platform at your house. They will only build one if they know you can keep a secret and if you have been good and are ready for night time adventures”. With that, the guard’s whistle blew and the train pulled out of the station at Susie’s House.

“Where are you going?”, enquired Susie. “Don’t know”, said Matthew. “Might go to Teddy Town. I lost my teddy the other day. Perhaps he is hiding there. What about you”. “I’m off to Doll City”, she replied. “I’m taking Charlie Brown to see some of his friends who live there”.

The train picked up speed and the wind blew through their hair as they passed fields of toy farm animals and buildings made from Lego and Meccano sets with paper mache rocks and hills behind them. The train soon pulled into Doll City where the streets were full of all sorts of dolls the like of which Matthew had never seen before. He waved goodbye to Susie and Charlie Brown as the train moved on across more fields and rivers until he heard a voice announcing, “Next stop Teddy Town”. The train slowed and chugged into the station.

Excitedly, Matthew jumped out, left the station and started off down the main street. It was market day and the town was crowded with teddies of all shapes, sizes and colours. Not just teddy bears, mind you, but all sorts. Elephants, donkeys, monkeys, gollies, bunnies and even a rather frightening looking alligator. Just as he thought he would never find his own teddy, Bertie Bear, in such a crowded place, he spotted him by an ice cream van with a big cone of cookie dough ice cream. It was all over Bertie’s nose and was dripping down his cheeks as his long tongue scooped up another dollop of his favourite treat. “Typical”, thought Matthew. “Trust Bertie to find an ice cream van”. Mind you, the ice cream looked so tempting that Matthew ordered himself a large chocolate chip cone topped with nuts and joined Bertie, savouring every lick of the best ice cream he had ever tasted.

“Wakey, wakey!” a voice rang in Matthew’s ears. “Oh, I see you’ve found Bertie. Where was he, in the cupboard where I told you to look yesterday?” “No, I found” a bleary eyed Matthew started to say but he stopped. He remembered that the train was a secret and he wanted to be sure it was still there every night when he went to bed.

TWITTER, KINDNESS AND CANDLES IN THE DARK.

I must have woken up in a philosophical mood this morning because I found myself sitting up in bed contemplating the nature of consciousness. Then I thought that I hadn’t posted on my Twitter account for some time so trawled my mind for inspiration. I confess that Twitter is still something of a mystery to me and the main benefit that I have derived from it is as a medium to complain about big companies and get action. It seems that even the likes of BT and Peugeot who do a great impression of not caring a monkeys, just don’t like negative comments of social media. That aside, I realise that local businesses follow me as a method of advertising their services and, for some, I’m sure it works but my attempts to follow suit have yielded nothing. What I find more baffling are the follows that come from around the world, especially those that do not seem to be drawing attention to a particular product, condition or campaign. Then, ridiculous as it may seem, I feel a certain pressure to post something mind blowing or at least interesting. Hence, this morning I thought post, “Every act of unconditional kindness makes the world a better place. It lights a candle in the darkness.” Still in my philosophical mode I then examined the word ‘unconditional’. Often people have the attitude of ‘what’s in it for me’. They want something in return. That attitude is easy to spot in the extreme but even for the most benevolent, the unconditional bit can pose a problem. Sometimes we get fed up for doing things for people and getting no thanks or even getting negativity in return. Does that mean of acts are not unconditional because we do want something in return even if it is an occasional ‘thank you’? Perhaps, but if we were perfect we wouldn’t be on this Earth so we can only do our best and continue to light our little candles in the darkness and forgive ourselves for sometimes wanting to light them in a slightly different place.

ENERGY HEALING

As I write this I am in my sitting room gazing through the window at the fields stretching down to the River Severn a mile or so away to the East. It is a misty, early Spring morning. The sun is trying hard to break through the veil of low cloud and the whole countryside seems to have a buzz of excitement with a build up of energy waiting to fuel the profusion of new growth that bides its time as it stirs slowly from a winter slumber. The snow drops have already been and gone but have been followed by primroses and daffodils growing not only in gardens and tubs but in the hedgerows, grass verges and dingles throughout the landscape. One of our resident pheasants potters across the lawn while above a few seagulls soar looking for easy pickings in the newly ploughed fields beneath them. It is peaceful yet vibrant. A perfect blend of yin and yang.

Next to me is an old, oak, glass fronted cabinet and, as I touch it, I feel a connection to its previous owner. The cabinet was given to me many years ago by my guitar master, Jack Goddard uncle of the actress Lisa Goddard, who lived in a small, terraced house in Southend-on-Sea. Each week I used to take my classical guitar along for my lesson but, in truth, most of the time we spent talking. Although I loved music, I probably loved all things spiritual and metaphysical even more and Jack was a psychic. We spent hours talking about Spiritualism, spirit guides, past lives,  Buddhism, Egyptology, astrology, numerology and much more. Also, it was Jack who introduced me to healing by teaching me the technique of aura cleansing.

Now I was born in India and one of the things that Jack conveyed to me from the spirit world is that, as a baby, I was ‘energised’ by an Indian holy man. It is something that I put to the back of my mind and have never really talked about. It’s not the sort of thing that one feels able or inclined to pop into a conversation and I suppose I always felt it to be irrelevant or fanciful. A bit too ‘way out’ for the material world of the Western hemisphere. However, it is something that has become very relevant in my work as a complementary therapist and my innately enhanced energy healing ability has run alongside and formed an integral part of all my other techniques and therapies.

What then is ‘energy healing’? Well, it’s not something that I can explain easily or briefly in a paragraph or two. However, faith healing, spiritual healing and Reiki are all types of energy healing. The ‘healer’ attempts to transfer the energy from ‘God’ or ‘Spirit’ or ‘the universe’ through them into the patient in order to facilitate healing. As quantum physics is now telling us, everything we perceive is in effect energy. As an energy healer I am attempting to correct the currents of energy in and around the body; something the Chinese have understood and practiced for thousands of years. 

Hence, when you come to me for some complementary therapy, whether it be reflexology, massage, tui na or some other technique, then energy healing will always be included. It’s not something I can or would wish to, switch off during sessions. I am reminded of my friend, Reiki Master and fellow therapist, Belinda Kennedy-Scott who came to me a few years ago for some reflexology. At the end of the session she said, “The reflexology was great by the energy was fantastic”.

THE JOY OF PLAY

It’s good to catch up with old friends, so I was delighted this week to share a few emails with my old flame and confidant, the author Teresa Moorey. It seems an age ago since we both attended an astrology course run by the late Charles Harvey, a field in which Teresa received much acclaim in later years.

The emails were prompted by a poem that I had posted on my website. It was one that had been written whilst at university with her and I was surprised and quite honoured that she remembered it. However, the communication brought with it some sad news that her mother had recently died and that her sister for whom I felt a great fondness, had died last year. With the news, Teresa shared a beautiful moment with me. She wrote of ‘being’ with her sister shortly after her death saying, “She was in a wonderful landscape where the colours seemed to shine out of the grass and trees, and there was a succession of bridges behind her.  She stood in the meadow, younger looking and happy, and I said ‘What are you going to do now, Annie?’  ‘Play’ she replied.”

I was very moved by the vision. It was a reminder not only of the greater reality that lies beyond this world but of the joy that play can bring into our very essence. Perhaps it was something that had been missing for Annie as it seems to be for so many people. As we get older and become ‘grown ups’ we often loose the ability to play with the freedom of a child. We become concerned that we have to display and preserve an image befitting our age, profession or perceived status in the world. In short, we can become if not boring, then too serious. Sometimes it’s good just to let go and remember the innocence of childhood.

Whilst contemplating these matters, I thought of the many different attitudes towards ‘appropriate’ adult behaviour and recalled an interesting conversation that I had earlier in the year. I had been fortunate enough to attend a Mennonite wedding in Missouri. My great niece, a member of the faith, was getting married and there was a large gathering of the clan. During a lengthy discussion with a rather fierce looking but thoroughly charming individual with a long dark beard, black waistcoat and straw hat, I asked about the Mennonite attitude towards sport. The young people at the pre-wedding   banquet were all playing volley ball but no adults joined in the fun. I was told that people in his church believed that games and sport in general were child like and that when one became an adult, it was frowned upon to take part.

I found that hard to understand but in varying degrees, it is an attitude that is not restricted to the gracious and hospitable Mennonite people. Sometimes in the business world, one wonders what happened to a sense of humour and a youthful spirit. I feel that one should remember that to play with the enthusiasm of a child does not in itself make one ‘childish’ and, indeed, that play is something we all need in our lives along with a generous dose of laughter.

TALES OF PAUL NEWMAN - NO NOT THAT ONE!

I was talking to Gavin Sutherland (Sailing, Arms of Mary etc.) a while back about some of the experiences that we both had ‘on the road’ in our gigging days. He commented that people should stop talking about bringing back National Service but everyone should be made to spend some time as a ‘Roadie’ for a band. I can see where he was coming from – hard work, a disciplined approach, tight schedules and they would certainly see a different side of life!

Unlike Gavin who, as part of the Sutherland Brothers, was quite a big name back in the day, I rarely had the luxury of a roadie and had to do my own lifting, carrying and setting up before and after performing. It certainly added to all the experiences I had during thirty odd years as a professional. Indeed, people often tell me to write about some of those experiences so I thought I might reminisce in some blogs so here goes with the first.

It’s about a lead guitarist who was part of the band. A lovely guy called Paul Newman. He came from a musical family and I recall once doing a gig with his Dad who was no mean piano player. Anyway, Paul was a brilliant guitarist if managed correctly. You see, Paul had one slight flaw in that he liked a pint or two. Nothing unusual in that but stone cold sober, Paul was rubbish and with too much drink inside him, he was rubbish as well. In between, he was fantastic.

I remember a particular recording session when we had to have a few cans of lager on hand. Paul arrived and said “Shall I start recording my part?” “No Paul”, we replied, “Relax and have a tipple first” feeding him the first can. The session continued with us rationing Paul as best we could to keep him ‘in the zone’

Often, at the end of a gig, Paul would rush off stage to get a pint before the bar closed and I have one memorable image of him standing at the public bar alongside some burly workman still wearing his orange silk stage trousers with a scarf around his neck.

That scarf came in hand at a service station on the way home from a gig late one night. The restaurant was full of Hells Angels and as Paul walked past one very big, hairy biker, he knocked his arm making him spill his drink over the table. “Sorry Mate” the five foot four Paul said and duly mopped it up with his scarf. I thought all hell was going to break out but the biker was so bewildered that the incident passed without a problem.

It could have been even worse and another service station in South Wales at the time of the Miners Strikes in the Thatcher era. Bus loads of police were ferried around the country at that time to deal with the strikers and, as we walked into service station restaurant in the early hours, the place went silent as about three hundred pairs of police eyes looked up at us. You could have heard a pin drop but it wasn’t a pin that Paul dropped it was a small package that looked suspiciously like a spliff (not that I would really know what that looked like never having indulged myself!) Quick as a flash Paul picked it up and said loudly, “Oh, that’s where my plectrum went”. Well done Paul, I was in fear of us all being arrested and strip searched. As it was, the noise level resumed and we enjoyed our late night snack. The force was with us – happy days! 

Picture of Dion Charles & Pine Bluff (From Left; Roger Ellis, Paul Newman, Dave 'Boot' Jeens & Dion Charles)

REFLEXOLOGY AND TRAUMA

In recent months I have been talking and writing about trauma and the place that reflexology has in the treatment of trauma. I have talked about the various types of everyday trauma like bereavement, divorce, accidents and redundancy but, of course, most people relate trauma to war time situations and their aftermath and are familiar with the condition referred to as post traumatic stress.

With this in mind, I recalled an instance from my pre reflexology days as a musician playing mainly in social clubs up and down the country. One day my agent called and told me that a club in Swindon wanted me back and he had accepted a date. I groaned because I remembered the elderly gentleman on the club committee who had ‘welcomed’ us on the previous occasion and he was a real misery to say the least. “Just talk to him about the war” my agent advised.

I took his advice and discovered a remarkable story. He had been a rear gunner in bomber command in World War II and had cheated the statistics that gave him virtually no chance by surviving 48 missions including one where the badly shot up plane just made it home to crash land on the cliffs of Blighty. His experiences had left deep emotional scars on him and the rest of his crew. Indeed, two of them had committed suicide after the war had ended.

These days, he would have been offered specialist counselling. However, it’s a pity that he could not only have received counselling but perhaps had reflexology treatments available to him because it is strange that reflexology, for reasons not altogether clear, can have a very positive effective in treating trauma cases. Reflexology helps release negative emotions that are buried in the subconscious and can help heal the soul as well as the body. Indeed, in my own practice, I have always marvelled at the release reflexology can bring about in trauma cases.

After leaving, I felt compassion as I understood his miserable demeanour. Also, I wish I had known about reflexology back then.

REFLEXOLOGY - ART OF SCIENCE?

I am often faced with a great deal of scepticism where reflexology is concerned. For example, an old school friend once said scathingly, “If I have a headache, why on earth would I ask you to rub my feet?” A convincing response to such dismissive attitudes is difficult. I can tell him that there seems to be a correlation between points on the feet and other parts of the body based on observations made by both practitioners and recipients, but I can’t offer what can be regarded as a scientific explanation. Indeed, anatomists would claim with justification that there is no demonstrable link. I can retort that there are well over 7000 nerve endings in each foot and this may give rise to some correlation that is not yet understood. I can suggest that stimulation of the cardio vascular and lymphatic vessels in the feet and ankles may lead to some, as yet unexplained, connection. I can refer to Chinese Medicine and the meridians through which chi (energy) is said to flow through the body and how releasing blockages in one area can have beneficial effects on another area but what I can’t do is prove the connection in terms accepted by the scientific community.

The case for reflexology being a science is not helped by the variations in published foot charts displaying the map of the foot used by reflexologists. In truth, although always similar, I don’t think I have seen two that are the same. Add to this the reports of different reflexologists finding correlations in different areas of the foot and reflexology starts to look nothing like a science. For example, where there is a problem with the sinuses, some practitioners work on the base of the toes and others on the top both with reported success. The thyroid seems to respond to slightly different areas around the pad of the big toe and so on. Where then is the science?

Science requires demonstrability and repeatability topped with an understanding of the reason that certain results follow. It is said to be objective, a system for acquiring knowledge that helps to form a framework of our overall understanding of the universe.

To defend reflexology to those of a scientific bent, I can refer to the growing body of research that confirm some of the effects and associations claimed by reflexologists and I can take heart from the fact that many in the medical profession are now ceasing to worry about the scientific explanation, being happy to accept the beneficial results. I can refer, also, to the methodology used by practitioners during a reflexology treatment and claim a scientific approach to clinical reflexology in general but, alas, I am a long way from being able to claim that it is a science. More of a pseudo-science some would say!

So does that make reflexology an art? Again, I have something of a dilemma. An art can be seen as a way of expressing or conveying subjective ‘knowledge’ or emotions in order to influence the world around us. It is a method of invoking a similar or sometimes very different or personal emotive response in the recipient. I suppose that can be said of reflexology. Also, when working on a client I sometimes wonder if the area of the foot which theoretically relates to, say the kidneys simply provides a focus for my powers of perception. Does the area relate to the kidneys merely because I make it so by focussing my energy on the kidneys? After all, good reflexologists are energy healers. Without that power, just going through the motions of a treatment will be far less effective. Again, this starts to sound more like an art than a science.

In conclusion, I cannot deny that there is a strong element of the subjective in Reflexology suggesting it is an art, but this should not detract from the observable results that it achieves. I believe there is a science involved albeit that the scientific understanding of this is still in its infancy. One should also remember the element of the subjective or art in all good scientists. A good doctor, for example, is someone who displays more than just the theoretical knowledge of his profession.