The Power of Ritual

Here in Scotland, Hallowe'en has long been celebrated with guising, treacle scones and dookin' for apples. Influenced by the US, England seems to have adopted the festival with pumpkins and trick or treating. I have vivid memories of ringing neighbours' doorbells in our tenement in Paisley as a six year old, dressed up as a milk bottle, holding my little sister's hand, with her resplendent in pink and blue crepe paper bonnet as Little Bo-Peep, complete with crook and lamb. Always on the alert for opportunities to perform, I told jokes, recited poems and sang songs. That was the year, having had great critical acclaim close to home, I decided to extend our tour and, with turnip lantern and Little Bo-Peep, set off in the dark, long past our bedtime, to 'guise' over a two street area, returning home hours later laden with sweets and small coins. My parents were furious. Next day I had to endure the humiliation of returning to all the houses I had visited and giving back the money. We were allowed to keep the sweets.

However, Hallowe'en continued to work its magic for me and my own children when they were young, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf, Chewbacca from Star Wars and many other creatures and characters over the years. Now I see racks of ready-made costumes in the supermarkets and remember the hours spent fabricating crocodile heads and fairy wings.

This year, I spent Hallowe'en in London, visiting the Aztec exhibition at the British Museum, where, the following day, a free fiesta was held for the Mexican Day of the Dead. The altar in the picture had been created with input from children over the previous week, featuring the traditional sugar skulls, paper cut-outs and skeletons in vivid colours.

We heard two lectures from experts on Mexican rituals and related art, and on death observance in different cultures. It really made me think about how inhibited and closed off we tend to be around death. One speaker talked of how children in Mexican schools regard death as an everyday part of life, with the observance of the Day of the Dead being as exciting as Christmas is for children here. Dressing up, face-painting, lavish feasts, flowers and candles all contribute to an event over several days in which many feel the spirits of dead loved ones return to visit the living.

Yesterday I celebrated my birthday with my family, with a clootie dumpling, made by my daughter and myself. This was the traditional alternative to a birthday cake for winter birthdays during my childhood. I remember my mother's dumpling having silver threepenny bits in it, which all had to be returned to my mother for using again. I wanted to put five pence pieces in mine, but my archaeologist daughter vetoed this, firstly because they are made of potentially toxic material, secondly, because teeth could get broken. She is so sensible. We had candles and 'Happy Birthday' was sung. We all enjoyed this revival of the birthday ritual, and are planning our first 'family' Christmas for many years, with all of us together.

I've noticed the power of ritual in work I've done recently with clients. The lighting and blowing out of candles is an obvious way to celebrate, remember or affirm a significant event. Objects chosen to embody problems can be used in a devised ritual which helps put the issue into a context where the client is empowered. The therapeutic effect can carry a significance which lasts beyond the session. Small rituals, the greeting when the client arrives, the de-roling of objects at the close of a session, provide structure, stability and a sense that what takes place in the session is significant.

Other cultures can give us valuable insights into how ritual can be used to celebrate and to come to terms with life events. Sometimes it is good to re-discover and make use of rituals from our own history, and to devise new ones. I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on this or any other related topics.
Leave a comment or email me at theatreandtherapy@googlemail.com

Catching the Wave

This fabric cushion with sand, sea, starfish and crab, was painted by a wee girl, not quite four, last week, when I was looking after her. ( I did the quilting and edging later.) I was painting too - embellishing an old denim jacket with batik off-cuts, sari ribbon, buttons and beads. It reminded me of times with my own pre-school children, and of the joy of being with a child as she makes new discoveries and acquires new skills.

Babysitting my friend's grandchildren from time to time has added a new dimension to my life. Now I'm working only one day a week, I seem to have tapped into reserves of creative energy of which I was largely unaware. After years of working at life-drawing, believing that I had the capacity to be an 'artist', and that I might some day go to art school, I feel a great sense of relief in leaving that behind and focussing on making things. There is no standard to reach, save my own pleasure in what I've made, or other people's appreciation of a present which represents my time and commitment to them.

Swimming in a wild sea up at Clachtoll some weeks ago, clad in a borrowed wet-suit, was a new experience. I've always loved swimming, but haven't ventured into the sea in Scotland for more than twenty years. I was knocked off my feet, dragged under, somersaulting back to the surface, choking and spluttering. But the sheer joy of getting myself on top of the waves, letting the surf bring me into shore was incredible. I'm borrowing a body board for my next swim at Ullapool in two weeks time. A new, exciting challenge.

Interestingly, there seem to be parallels in my work as a dramatherapist. I've begun re-visiting things like Playback Theatre and visualisation, physical exercises - freeing up the space in a one-to-one session in a way I've not been doing over the past year. Partly this is because opportunites present themselves through the client's needs, but I think it also relates to a freer approach in my life as a whole.

I've just made a major decision about something in my personal life which has been dragging me down for three years. Something which seemed fixed, unshakeable, a responsibilty for all time. Suddenly, it's as if the trap has been sprung, releasing me. It is totally out of character for me to admit defeat, or to let go of an unresolved problem, but the realisation that I can walk away is incredibly empowering.

Empowerment and mastery. These themes keep coming up - whether it's making a cushion, body-surfing, working out a knitting pattern, learning shorthand (as one my clients is doing at sixty) or making a significant life change. To make choices, to work at one thing and let another go - that power we have to create the life we need - is in each of us, if we can allow it.

If any of this touches you, leave a comment or email me personally at theatreandtherapy@googlemail.com

The Music Man

This picture reminds me of a special moment in France this summer. The 'music man' turns up each week at a local market and sets up his space, surrounded by puppets and sound-making things. He plays his fiddle and children and adults gather round. He is not selling anything or asking for money. Apparently he is a retired teacher who just enjoys making music and having others join in. He is hightly intuitive, listening carefully, and picking up tunes and rhythms from his 'audience', creating something new each time.

This is my first day back at work after a long summer break. I really needed time this year to let my mind and body find a kind of equilibrium that had been lost through months of stressful life events. It was only when I was physically distanced from day to day routine that I realised how out of joint I had become. In literal terms as well as metaphorically. My right knee has been behaving oddly, letting me down unexpectedly. Paying it some attention and getting suitable treatment is beginning to work. I think I'd been ignoring it as well as disregarding some of my emotional pain, hoping that it would just go away. But supported with a knee brace and the nurturing company of friends and family, I feel much more secure in getting back into my working role.

Is 'Being a Dramatherapist' a role just for work, or is it more than that? I've had a conversation recently with a good friend and fellow dramatherapist about this. Like me, he doesn't practise full-time, but we agreed that it is a way of being, an attitude to life, a view of other people, that goes beyond a job. I don't believe I stopped being a dramatherapist for those weeks I was on holiday. I followed some of my own creative impulses, making cards and jewellery, experimenting with knitting different materials, learning new songs, working on music theory. I spent time with elderly parents, giving them, I hope, some of the heightened attention needed in a therapy session, but as their daughter, not a therapist.

I wondered if I would feel like working again. The summer was so good. But there is something in me that needs this special contact with others that you have in a formal therapeutic realtionship. Its clear boundaries of time and commitment enable a process which is different from social encounters, where we share bits of our lives with people we like and love. So, being a dramatherapist is part of who I am, with the privilege of using my skills to enable others to find meaning in their own lives, like the music man, in his simple offer of creative engagement.

If you'd like to respond to what I've said, as a fellow therapist, someone with family resonsibilities, another knitting enthusiast, or whoever........do leave a comment or email me at theatreandtherapy@googlemail.com

The Offside Rule

Last Saturday I went to a football match. Not something within my usual experience. I went to support my Dad (no, he wasn't playing, just a loyal supporter of St Mirren for eighty years) who has lost confidence about going places through a period of ill-health. As someone who quickly loses interest when my partner watches football on television, reacting only when he jumps off the sofa and shouts, this was a leap into the unknown. Possibly committing myself to three hours of boredom, maybe even falling asleep. In fact, the hard seat and driving rain meant there was no chance of relaxing sufficiently to fall asleep. But, to my surprise, the moment the teams ran onto the pitch was the start of a drama, a piece of live theatre, which enthralled me. I found myself clapping, shouting, chanting, singing along with the home crowd, caught up in the fate of these eleven men and their opponents.

I began to recognise the rituals - the throw in, the corner and the free kick, with the graceful gesture of the referee's arm indicating which team had the advantage. Our team lost, but it didn't seem to matter too much, as they'd played well and avoided relegation. I stood by the barrier and applauded until the last player left the field, unwilling to go home, like watching all the credits at the end of a film. Later, over dinner in a local hotel, I asked about the offside rule, which was then explained, with the help of diagrams, by my father and partner. I'd assumed offside referred to lines on the pitch, but it turns out to be the player who is in the wrong place in relation to other players when he receives the ball. How can he tell in that moment? He has to be aware of where members of the opposing team are. Complex. Like life. How often do we find ourselves in that position, ready to act, but not sure if it's the right time, the right place, for ourselves and others?

I'm feeling very much onside with my professional life right now. Preparing material for the presentation I'm doing this weekend on individual dramatherapy, I have realised just how many people I have seen over the years, with a wide range of problems. It's been hard to select material - I want to tell all the stories, show lots of the things I use. But I can't take a huge bag of stuff on the train. So I'm settling for photographs. I was really touched when a long-standing client who has always had huge issues with trust, volunteered to have pictures of some of the objects she made with me included in my presentation. She is no way a 'success story', as her problems are all still there, but I have learned so much from her, primarily that people have answers within themselves, resources which we can help them access. But also that the concept of 'getting better' is not always relevant or useful. Sometimes it's about living with the grief, the anger, the pain and finding relief in creative expression and experience, whether that's making a papier mache mouse or watching a drama in the theatre or on a football pitch.

My father is struggling to cope with the disabilities and frustrations of old age, unable to engage in many of the activities which gave his life meaning - his work, golf, social gatherings, driving - but he has a tremendous capacity for finding solutions for himself. I've written before about his interest in mindfulness and he continues to strive to live in the moment. He talks about his football meditation and describes how he can lose himself in the game, live or on television.

We all end up offside at times, and like the player on the pitch, we can't always see it. But we go on playing, because while the ball's in play, we want to keep it there. And there is still the chance of winning (or, at least, losing well) until the final whistle blows.

Disclaimer: there weren't any topless players on Saturday!

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The Spring Dragon

Back at work after a busy spring break. Total immersion in home and family stuff for two weeks. Easter Sunday was a highlight - a family Eater egg hunt, presided over by the Spring Dragon (originally a sea monster from a street theatre project many years back!) - involving cryptic clues for six adults following individual trails around our three storey house and garden to find their chocolate eggs.

I've been appreciating the routine of Monday morning, the familiarity of my study back to its designated use. We had a major leak from the header tank in the loft, resulting in water pouring through ceilings on two floors. The study got the worst of it, with all the computer stuff sitting in a deepening puddle, carpet soaking. However, three weeks on, it's drying out, with just the stains on the ceilings to show what happened. And the computer, printer etc. still function. Re-evaluating my working life as I get this year's accounts in order to do my tax return.

The Trust has no money to fund my work with psychiatric nurses in the new financial year. Ironic, having gone through an audit of last year's training programme which recommended running it again. The supervision group has been a success, and participants wanted it to continue, but it can't go on without funding. This makes me feel that maybe that part of my career is at an end. I've had to fight hard over the years to get dramatherapy funded within the NHS on a contract basis. I think I'm beyond fighting now.

I've definitely slowed down and enjoy the more leisured pace of my life now. I have my small practice where I see clients and supervisees two days a week, and I feel it's enough. My family responsibilities are heavier - looking after the welfare of relatives who need me to manage their support takes up a lot of my time. And my adult children are at a stage now where they actively seek my company - I'm delighted that my older daughter is coming back to Scotland after 8 years.

I've rediscovered the joys of gardening. I never got on top of the weeding last year and it was a source of guilt that I didn't make proper use of the greenhouse. But the sunshine of the past few weeks has enticed me out there, and I've really enjoyed planting climbing roses, hauling out masses of couch grass and assisting in potato planting.

So maybe, it's not so important for me to BE a Dramatherapist, more to be my own person, contributing to dramatherapy in my own way. I'm looking forward to doing a presentation in London on 30th May at an Introduction to Dramatherapy day run by BADTh, where I'm talking about working with individuals.

As always, I enjoy hearing from you, so do post a comment or email me at
theatreandtherapy@gmail.com

Girl on the Piano

There are birds singing outside my window. Daffodil and crocus bulbs are pushing green leaves up through the ground and there's some warmth in the sun. After the bleakness of the last few months, it seems that spring is just starting to assert itself. I find the apathy and gloom of last month beginning to lift. I have some new clients, new challenges in work and my own creative life. I got word at the weekend about the apartment in France, damaged in the cyclone in January, to say that repairs are well under way and we are welcome to stay as originally planned.

A reader of my blog commented that I go on holiday a lot. I suppose I do - I love to travel and see new places - but I do work hard in between times! Two days in Berlin with my younger daughter last week was great fun, staying in a 'hostel boat' on the river Spree, traveling around by train, bus and U-Bahn. One day was very wet and we spent 3 hours in Ka De We (a cross between Harrods and John Lewis only better) looking at Barbies in designer clothes, spookily realistic baby dolls, adult fany dress costumes and amazing cakes. We bought some cakes to eat back in our cabin with a bottle of wine from Lidls (even cheaper than at home).

I've had an interesting experience with my piano tuition. My teacher made a DVD of a lesson with me for training purposes in which she took me through an exercise on rhythm. I just couldn't get it. The harder I tried, the worse it got. She patiently tried different ways to help me, clapping the rhythm, counting it aloud, tapping it out, until, finally, I got it! She described this later as a Gestalt moment, in which everything suddenly came together and made sense. This unconscious leap in thinking is what can happen in dramatherapy too. For me to experience this myself, in a creative activity, was important in two ways: first, for the unblocking of some of the psychological barriers to playing the piano, which go back to earlier experiences, second, for the insight it gave me into what my clients may experience. Since then, I've felt freed up, I'm playing Mozart and Satie on the piano as well as Abba, improvising and getting more enjoyment from music every day, even feeling I can play when other people are around without the 'third bar panic' which used to overcome me whenever anyone was listening.

Sitting on top of my piano is a Hummel figure of a little girl looking at a picture book. One of her legs is rather badly glued on, and part of her hair ribbon is missing, but she is one of my most treasured possessions. An early memory is of being allowed to play (under supervision) with the doll, who sat on top of my mother's piano. She was intact then, and I was always reverently gentle with her when she was lifted down. I always wanted to be able to turn the pages of the picture book. Recently, my mother decided her piano should be stored away. She has Parkinsons disease and can't play or sing any more - a huge loss for her. She said I should have the Hummel girl. She now sits on my piano, representing my three year old self, my audience, patient, accepting my mistakes as well as taking pleasure in my successes.

Email me at theatreandtherapy@googlemail.com or leave a comment if you'd like to discuss anything in this blog

Stormy Weather

Here in the East Neuk, we've had a stormy start to the year - high winds and flurries of snow, but not the traffic-stopping winter weather suffered by other parts of the UK. I've not felt like venturing out but have been feeding the birds - starlings, robins, sparrows and blackbirds - in our courtyard, enjoying watching them vying for places at the bird table and hangers. I did rehydrate some worms which I hoped the robins would enjoy. I half-expected the worms to wriggle, released from their freeze-dried state, but they looked just the same, only wet.

I'm trying to shake off the urge to hibernate, get myself out and about after a period of relative sloth. Working from home makes it all too easy to shut myself away from the world. However, I have just made a trip to London for a consultation day on therapy for student dramatherapists.

I signed up for this because it is something I've been involved with. All trainees have to complete 72 hours of personal therapy, group and individual, alongside their training. This can be difficult to manage, especially for students living in Scotland, and other areas where there are not many practising dramatherapists. It was good to have the chance to discuss some of the issues with fellow practitioners, although the situation in London is so different. It's hard to believe that it's almost a year since I last spent a day with my peers, when we met as supervisors.

I made this a bit of a holiday as well. My daughter in Swindon took some time off on the Friday - we went shopping - and I got to sit in on the dress rehearsal of the pantomime she's involved with on the Sunday. Quite fun to be there and have no responsibilities, watching her unflappable efficiency as she dealt with temperamental actors, excited children and last minute repairs. I ended up making a ghost costume out of an ancient velvet curtain as well as sewing on lots of buttons.

I was shocked today to receive an email from France, with photos of the destruction wreaked by a cyclone two days ago of the place we stayed in last summer - the pottery, the flat upstairs where we stayed and the beautiful garden and swimming pool all ruined. How quickly people's lives can be changed. We're lucky so far not to be hit by natural disasters, redundancy or serious ill-health, but it's all so fragile......

The two lovely ladies who own the atelier have lost so much - and yet are already offering to help us find somewhere else to stay this summer.
That seems so unimportant at the moment. Appreciating the things we take for granted - a roof over our heads, food on the table, a walk in the sunshine - will be my priority this week.

Contact me by email at
theatreandtherapy@gmail.com