Workshop: Cederberg Mountains, South Africa

I will be running a three day workshop in the Cederberg Mountains near Cape Town, South Africa from 20 until 23 November 2008.

This rugged mountain range provides the backdrop for getting in touch with the self, others and the greater whole in which we live.

For more information go to my website: www.wildreaches.com and click on "library".

I look forward to meeting you on the mountain!

Go well!

Paul

Gestalt Experiential Weekend: September

Put this provisional date in your diary for the next Wild Gestalt outdoor workshop.

13, 14 & 15 September 2008

More details to follow.

If you would like to be kept informed about the weekend please send me an email.

In brief, the weekend will consist of gentle hillwalking combined with Gestalt enquiry into the here and now. Emphasis is on awareness of yourself in relation to the group, the natural environment and your internal processes.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Regards
Paul

"The mind in its natural state can be compared to the sky,

covered by layers of cloud which hide its true nature"


Kalu Rinpoche

My recent trip to the hills of Snowdonia was a rich and meaningful experience. I was reminded what a fertile place a group can be for personal learning. And my belief has been reinforced that the natural environment provides a unique setting for this sort of work.

I have been trying to write something that explains what happens out there, what's different from working indoors, but this has proved difficult. When I've come up with words that do justice to the experience I will share them. Meanwhile, please add your thoughts on what it is about sitting on a wild Welsh hillside that stimulates heightened awareness of oneself and in relation to others and the broader world.

I found a quote that seems apt given that we experimented with silence and because I often bring back my feelings from wild places and enjoy them in the bustle of the city.

"Go Placidly

amid the noise and haste,

and remember what peace

there may be in silence"

(from Desiderata by Max Ehrman)

Take Care,

Paul

Going Wild in Devon

I recently had the great pleasure of working with a great group of people down in Devon. As part of a training workshop we spent a day exploring the possibilities of Wilderness therapy in a beautiful piece of woodland on the River Dart.

For most of the day I was able to shadow the facilitator and add my comments and observations when I felt I had something useful to contribute. I did, though, have the privilege of leading the group through an awareness exercise while sitting on the earth beneath the trees. I’ve led groups through such exercises before and have participated in similar exercises many times, but usually sitting on chairs in a stuffy, airless, centrally heated conference room, sitting. Climate control in the woods consists of zipping my coat higher and pulling my woolly hat lower!

As I talked the group through the exercise, I realised how much I enjoyed the richness of the experience. In a room I would be likely to concentrate on my thoughts, emotions, heartbeat, breathing, bodily sensations quite easily. I would be aware of my backside on the chair and my feet on the carpeted floor. I would hear perhaps the gurgling of the radiator (or someone’s stomach!) or the whirring of a fan. But out in the woods as I closed my eyes and talked the group through the exercise, I could feel the breeze on my cheek, the soil and leaves under my body, I could feel the earth with my fingers. And as we went deeper, I heard a woodpecker start up somewhere, not too far away, in the trees. I experienced this as a poignant and very special moment. Poignant because of the richness of the experience for me as a facilitator and special because it reaffirmed by belief in the potential of nature to enhance our awareness.

For me the awareness exercise will normally enhance my awareness of my whole self. When I participate in this exercise in a conference room I become more aware of how my body holds information about my emotions, how my feelings effect my physiological reactions and how much more my existence can be than just thoughts. This can be an affirming and sometimes quite a powerful experience. In the woods, I felt this whole awareness and I also felt this in relation to my surroundings in a way that I rarely, if ever, feel when I’m doing this work indoors.

The thing that I’ve found most interesting is that this more “holistic” awareness results in me being much more present. My feelings, thoughts and physical experience have become more integrated. Since I have been exploring this awareness in the outdoors, I have been much more able to integrate my experience of the world around me with my internal world. Is it a coincidence, I wonder, that I find myself looking up at the rooftops and upper floors of buildings when I walk through London, taking an interest in more than just the pavement and the gaps between the other pedestrians? Perhaps. Since I’ve been paying attention to myself and the natural environment I’ve been noticing much more about my relationship with urban environment.

Smell the Morning!

I was talking to Nick Ray recently about the African bush. It's something that we've both experienced close up and for extended periods. We agreed that after a while the whole feel and touch of the place really becomes ingrained, part of who we are. Then I said something that just slipped out naturally and seemed insignificant until Nick remarked on it. I was remembering what it was like to wake up in the bush after a night under the incredible stars of the African sky (something else I could go on about for hours!). I said something like, "...and waking up under a thorn tree and smelling the morning...". I was about to carry on but Nick smiled and stopped me.

I'd hadn't realised that just sitting there in my Wimbledon flat, I could smell the bush of northern Namibia. And how often do I smell the morning now? What do my mornings smell like now? The pleasant aroma of my morning coffee. The heavy industrial smell of diesel and petrol fumes as I stand at the bus stop. The rich smell of decaying vegetation on Wimbledon Common.

So this conversation, and memory, reminds me that there are many ways to experience the 'now'. Working holistically with clients I am often exploring their experience of the present including physical sensations, emotions, thoughts etc. But I've never considered the sense of smell. Perhaps it is not relevant in a stuffy winter counselling room. Yet, while working with clients in the Wilderness, it would seem like an ideal way of exploring the present. Another aspect of the vibrant, vivid now experience.

What do you smell in the morning?