Rosie Reflecting

A few weeks ago a good friend of mine in the UK wrote to tell me she had been feeling out of sorts, she wasn’t sure why. The following week she wrote and said she had moved her garden bench to a different place where she could sit have her coffee and strangely she felt much better. Her view was different, she was enjoying life. Literally she had changed her outlook on life. In NLP (Neuro-linguistic Programming [1] ) we talk about ‘Reframing’ (so this might be walking through the door frame or putting an imaginary frame around something, or changing where we sit etc.) to create a different meaning. For example to turn a bad experience into a good one, or to notice that there is actually something positive in what is happening. There have been many times in the last few (or is it many weeks? That depends on how you process language, more on that another time), many times, when reframes have been useful for me. Here’s an example of how you could use a reframe, at any time, for

Of course all lives matter!! But all lives aren’t under attack. In a change to the post I had planned for today, I am posting this post made by my daughter on Facebook, with her permission. It’s her response to those who say something along the lines of ‘sure black lives matter, and/but all lives matter’. (And that might have been my response one point). But, (from Rosie) you know that’s actually really hurtful, as we need to acknowledge the other person’s pain. An example; now, I’ve had people die in my life before, in particular my previous husband at age 42. When people said to me, I understand your pain, and then continued with ‘when my husband, wife, partner, Dad, etc. died it was ……’  You know that’s really not helpful. You’re not acknowledging my pain, my devastation. And what K’s point is, is ‘you have no idea what’s like to be 3 years old, 5 years old, 10 years. old, 11 years old, 13 years old and to be told some of the things that are written below and they happened t

My previous week was interesting with ups and downs.   Monday just as we were finishing our breakfast on the veranda (comes from early 18th century: from Hindi varaṇḍā , from Portuguese varanda ‘railing, balustrade’), there was a flash, I looked at Jim and he returned my look and asked ‘that was lightening wasn’t it? ‘Err yes, think so.’ Showers (and they can be very brief showers) had been forecast for a few days, as had thunder. The thunder followed, resounding and reverberating round the mountains at the sides of the valley in which Dalyan and the River Dalyan are located (Dalyan by the way means ‘fish farm’). And then ‘down came the rain, the thunder and lightning’ as the song by Mitch Murray says. First Jim had to move inwards on the veranda, then we moved indoors. The rain, it rained all day. I made jam, apricot jam from apricots on a tree in a neighbouring garden. They are a little tart as the ‘furniture man’ who apparently as most people here has at least two strings to h