Emma Little
Learning & Development Officer,
NHS Health Scotland

Guilty or not?

I have bloggers’ guilt.  Or have I just been avoiding blogging recently cos I’ve lost the trail…  Either way, I’m back on line cos I’ve had lots of brilliant conversations with you lot - and you’re still commenting on stuff, so I just need to get over it!

The last 2 weeks have been quite strange.  Is it just the unsettling changing of the seasons, or is the time gap increasing between Knoydart and I?  Whatever - but things are slipping, definitely.  Do the effects of the wilderness leave you if you don’t go back often enough?  This is something I hope isn’t true, because lots of conversations with folks have been about how we can bring a bit of the wilderness into our everyday lives, rather than going to the remotest parts of Scotland to find it.

But is this really possible? Moving into the DARK season after one of the coldest weeks ever, how can we still be inspired to go out and find it?

My boyfirend and I took a trip up to Aberdeenshire the other weekend for a night away - I suppose I was trying to regain a bit of that Knoydart feeling - and it was beautiful - especially the stretch from Braemar to Ballater (autumn is amazing up there).  But I kept on feeling guilty because we’d driven up there.  What we learn from nature is key to the future of the human race, but being in nature is detrimental to the future of the human race - vicious circle - no?

How can we enjoy and learn from the wilderness without feeling guilty?

The other thing I’ve been feeling guilty about it lack of action.  I feel in some ways the questions I’m asking are too big for my brain to cope with, which  has partly led to my recent frustration.  I’m having a massive sense of it, but trying to squeeze this in - new job, busy lives, etc. - how can you create action that matters?  And my organisation gave me the opportunity to do this - and I feel very responsible - but the links between health and nature are huge, so what can we do about it?

Had a brilliant conversation with a pal last week and he was quick to point out that this could come across as being a bunch of middle class folk going out and finding themselves in nature.  While I know this isn’t true (we’ve found ourselves already BTW), I think it’s important that it doesn’t come across in this way. Language is so important in whether people feel included or excluded.

Action and focus is what’s needed though - this will be at the forefront of my mind for the next trip away which is looming next week.  Surely they won’t make us do another solo day this time of year????  Better get some more thermals just in case.

Cycling and cycles

Our wee friend

So, the slowing down thing has proved more difficult than I imagined.  The first week actually seemed quite easy - I was in a bit of a bubble I think!

One morning I was having my usual bike or bus dilemma. 

Bike: lots of faffing, but potentially quicker.  Bus: a bit slower, but more comfortable. 

I thought it was interesting how time always comes into our decision making process… trying to squeeze more and more into less and less.  I took the bike option and:

• Felt more awake getting into work
• Brought a bit of the wilderness in (Got to go along the Water of Leith walkway AND the Meadows)
• Got some exercise
• Chose my own pace
• Made eye contact with other human beings
• Got fresh air etc, etc.

You get the picture.  Sometimes I just don’t want to sacrifice my comfort, but when I do, so much more QUALITY experiences are possible - and I notice more.

I think it’s funny (not ha ha - strange) that the human race tried to apply a linear measure (time) to a natural cycle.  When we look at something on a linear scale we are always so aware of it running out, but when we think of time in nature we think of seasons changing, birth, rebirth and renewal. 

We’re all being encouraged to be more and more effective and efficient, cramming in more and more to our own ever depleting linear scale.  But what if we concentrated on just BEING more?  Or valuing quality over quantity?  I was on a course this week about effectiveness.  A wee pied wag tail was on the window ledge for almost the entire 3 days.  He hopped about, back and forwards, and seemed to be getting quite frustrated. 

I think he was trying to tell us something.

A revolting taxi driver

Had the usual for/ against tram conversation today with a taxi driver who was pretty irate about the whole thing.  He’d heard that the only reason they went ahead with the plans was that the European Union had threatened not to give Scotland any more money if Alex Salmond had put a stop to the tram works.  (Does any one know if this is true by the way?) Anyway, he said:

“And we don’t do anything except just pay our taxes and don’t ask any questions”

I said

“So what else can we do?”

He said

“REVOLT!”

I wasn’t expecting that!  So I told him about out project.  He said:

“But we can’t go back to horses and carts”

and I said

“I thought you said we needed to make radical changes”

and he said

 “Well, good luck to you then”

and I said

“Thanks for the chat”

And it made me even more filled with determination than ever.

There’s definitely a time for slowing down but there’s also a time for action. 

What would you have us do with this project?  Answers on a comment on this blog please!  And what will you do?  How will it help you meet your needs???

Confusion from Knoydart to Edinburgh

Lots of confusion during the transition from Knoydart to Edinburgh.  Lots and lots.

I started to get a bit down as I understood the scale of the huge gulf that was separating us from nature.  And I wondered how we as individuals could ever change that?  What would I have to give up in my life to get closer to nature?  And even if I do make sacrifices, what’s the point if no one else does?  More importantly, what would make them want to change?  I began thinking about how we fear loss (image, respect, things, etc) and how we’re motivated by what we need (physically, emotionally and mentally)  

What if we could find the opportunities for motivating ourselves towards fulfilling our needs, rather than worrying about what we would have to sacrifice?

I was pleased to see that my boyfriend Bez had obviously empathised with my wilderness experience and had taken the recycling in my TK Maxx ‘bag for life’ even though he thought it made him look ‘a bit of a girl’.  And that made me start to feel a bit better better. 

Bez and his bag

So here’s the new things I have committed to since the weekend (and how they helped me meet my needs):

1. Slowing down (Got more done, got up earlier, took my time over breakfast, noticed nature more, gained time back by watching less telly)
2. Keeping a journal (Helped me make sense of my confusion, kept thinking for ‘journal time’, was able to write this blog!)
3. Starting conversations about the project (Got inspired, learned new things, made new relationships)

The most amazing thing

Woke up with a horrible ugly sty in my eye this morning. But once outside I enjoyed the smell of the sea and grass, the subtleties of the autumn colours and the light on the beach. And then we broke the silence and listened to each other’s stories. And every story told a story about their encounter with nature. And every single one was unique.

And it sounds clichéd, but the most amazing thing was that these stories about nature gave us permission to share who we are with the group as if we’d been together for a very long time. And that was a gift to give and a privilege to receive.

So what happens next? What are the answers? Well, I don’t even know what the questions are yet. But this is only a few days into a 6 month experience. So you’ll just have to slow down, be patient and wait and see what story unfolds. Just like I will.

All Alone

 

Waking up in silence the next morning was bizarre. I felt the need to say ‘morning’ to everyone, or at least acknowledge them in some way.

After a bit of brekky, I set off at dawn in the direction of my chosen clump of trees. I was searching for a place which I could be happy with for the rest of the day, but most of the places I came across just weren’t good enough. They were either:

Too exposed!

Too full of litter!

Too dull!

Too restricted!

Not nice enough views!

Too low!

Too high!

Too dangerous!

NOT PERFECT!

Every place I tried out just left me feeling dissatisfied and it occurred to me how many needs I was trying to fulfil with just one space.

I eventually settled on an old decaying tree, which looked just the ticket. If I climbed up it I would get a view of the sea and lots more and there were so many vivid colours to see in the place. So I climbed my tree and settled in for the day with the wind blowing into my face and felt pretty content. But…appearances can be deceptive.

The wind got up and the rain started – it was time to move down the tree. I began to discover what an unforgiving place this wilderness could be.

At the bottom of the tree, I started drawing for something to do and once I’d got bored of that I thought I’d use my pen knife to carve something from the wood. Then I’d have something to show off from the day. But the wind blew the dust from the wood back into my face, and into my eyes. And I couldn’t get it out and it was so sore my eye was watering and I had to just shut them; there was no way I could draw or even look at things any more. So I threw my piece of the wood on the ground in anger and felt like throwing my journal away. What was the point of this? I wasn’t learning a thing! I shut my eyes and must have just drifted off to sleep for a bit.

I woke up feeling so angry and cold and frustrated, even though I had all the clothes on that I’d brought with me. I started to feel that it was about survival out there, even though I knew I could leave at any time. And my determination to stay frustrated me even more.

I felt like I was trapped in the wilderness, like a caged animal. It was the not being able to go out and explore the place I was in that was getting to me. And I began pacing around, like an animal in the zoo. I thought about the behaviour of these animals – big cats prowling round and round - and I understood why.

Some time in the afternoon (no idea what time, no watches allowed), the sun came out and I knew it was beautiful. I felt I should appreciate it, but I couldn’t. I had so much tension in my body from the few hours before that all I wanted to do was get back down the hill and have a shower and some food (I had decided to fast for the day – well, when else was I going to get the chance?)

I began to set off down the hill towards home, happy to be able to appreciate the evening now I knew I was leaving that place. I took my time on the way and noticed my route back, taking time to enjoy retracing the steps I had taken out at dawn.

I was surprised to realise how physically, emotionally and mentally drained I was when I got back. Even though I had gone without food for the whole day I could hardly eat 3 spoonfuls of soup. I took a hot shower and once I stepped out of it I had to lie down immediately, I felt so sick. I went straight to bed and slept for 10 hours that evening.

Welcome to Knoydart!

Once we had self selected our sleeping arrangements, Amie (our ship’s cook) presented us with some lovely veggie goulash. I couldn’t believe my luck – some wilderness this.

After we came to terms with the fact that the telly wasn’t going to be on (it was covered with a beautiful rug though) we realised that we would be having to make our own entertainment. Stayed up a wee bit too late and had a fairly unsettled first night after being generally excited and wired about the whole experience, which I was looking forward to with some cynical anticipation. Always up for a change though, I thought this was going to be a challenge and was starting to feel it was going to be difficult to convince others back home that it was the case – would I have to lie?

The bay we are staying next to is the most beautiful setting. Dave (our Project Leader) had set up a tepee next to the beach. The beach is surrounded by hills and rocky headland to the West – out towards Morar, Skye and Rhum in the distance. Behind us sit ominous looking mountains. I was really looking forward to exploring this place.

We were briefed on the first activity in the tepee which enforced my fears of the new agey-ness of the whole thing. Dave told us we were going to create a ‘mandala’ which something that Buddhists did to make a picture or tell a story. Our mandala was going to be something that represented a map of the place we were in and we had to explore it and find things that would place us in this place. Confused? I was.

I was immediately drawn to a clump of trees in the distance and set off with the intention of exploring them, but became frustrated that getting to them wasn’t as easy as I had initially thought. There was a wide river in between so I had to make do with a riverside walk during which I made a weak attempt at gathering some ‘stuff’ to represent my experience. Our mandala would be washed away when the tide came in. I was finding it hard to see the point.

When we stopped we were encouraged to choose and find our own space on the hill and stay there for 45 minutes. I got the impression he might be starting to prepare us for something.

Nevertheless I found a lovely wee spot up on a rock with an fantastic panoramic view of the valley and the bay – couldn’t have been more idyllic. Sitting in the sunshine I even drifted off to the sound of birds singing. This was the life – I could’ve stayed up here for a while. And I started to let go of the anticipation about what was going to happen next. I didn’t care.

He also said that we should think carefully about what we wanted to get out of the day. And keep an open mind. OK then.

Things that make you go hmmmm…

So I’m getting quite into this blogging malarkey now.  And I wanted to get down some of my thoughts in case this weekend starts to maybe change some of them.  Now I’ve got to grips with the practicalities of the mammoth packing list I have started to think about the project/change/whatever it is on a less superficial level.  I think.  And they’re not even really proper thoughts I’ve been having - just questions.  Thanks to pals who have had to listen to me rabbiting on about this. Some examples are:

Is there more I could be doing to reduce impact on the environment? (I reckon I’m ok, I use public transport, recycle, am fairly resourceful with energy and water, reuse things where possible - what else is there?)

If there is, how will that make a difference if no one else bothers?

Is it really possible for the human race to live in harmony with the planet, or will nature just correct itself like it always has done?

Should the message be about ’saving the planet’ or ’saving the human race’?

What’s the critical mass we need to reach to reverse negative impact? (cheers for that one carolyn!)

Bit deep I know - but there you go.  That’s the kind of gaI I am sometimes.  Anyway, Knoydart here we come.  Blog on!

Great expectations.. and deepest darkest fears

What I’m most nervous about…

1.  Getting lost (have obviously never really got over the distress of getting lost in the Highlands with no map or compass…”just follow the river”… yeah right - which one?)

2.  Having the biggest bag (and just looking a bit vain)

3.  Having the smallest bag (and being unprepared)

4.  De-teching (no phone I can handle, but no music - nightmare)

5.  Totally losing the plot while on my own for a whole day (can definitely see talking to myself being on the cards)

6.  Blogging - (not very good at writing, I’m thinking maybe I could just draw pictures instead?)

What I’m most looking forward to…

1.  The possibility of seeing some cool animals

2.  Having fun with what seem like a great bunch of folk

3.  Being challenged

4.  Learning new stuff

5.  Going to a new place most folk haven’t ever heard of