Do you have movies you’ve grown up with?  You know those ones you see again and again, and see more in the film – and in  yourself – with each viewing?

I loved film from an early age.  One of my prized possessions was Halliwell’s The Filmgoer’s Companion.  Given to me in 1965 when I was just seven, it was my dad’s inscription to me that made the book so special: “For my favourite film critic…”

As a teenager I was captivated by Hitchcock’s Rear Window. Its depiction of the urbane lives of Greenwich Village neighbours was far removed from my suburban London life.

Here was the sophisticated beauty of Grace Kelly, the drollness of James Stewart and the laugh-aloud ‘say it how it is-ness’ of Thelma Ritter.

Confined to his home to recuperate after breaking a leg James Stewart’s character Jeff becomes a voyeur of his neighbours; each of their window-framed apartments becoming a set within which they are the stars in their own movie. And like Jeff I too was an observer, willingly escaping into the fantasy of film.

It was only in later viewings that I realised that Jeff is escaping as well.  By prying into the relationships he sees played out in front of him, he doesn’t need to fully engage with his girlfriend Lisa.  In this way he can be titillated by Miss Torso, feel compassion for Miss Lonelyhearts, and see his own fears of marriage confirmed in his newlywed neighbours, whose sex-fuelled honeymoon period is replaced with bickering by the end of the film.

And of course there is Jeff’s growing obsession with the possible grisly disappearance of the salesman’s wife in the apartment directly opposite his own… This is a Hitchcock thriller after all!

I am still interested in the lives of others; I wouldn’t be a trainer and coach if I weren’t.  And perhaps not surprisingly where I now live in Covent Garden has me cheek by jowl with my neighbours à la Rear Window. My observations of others though now come not from a wish to escape, but from a heart-felt desire to connect, learn and support.

P.S. I’ll be co-leading a Life Class soon on how to create meaningful and authentic relationships. I like to think Jeff and Lisa would have got a lot from it…  Fantasy aside, you are most welcome to come and take part; it will be a real-life experience!

I have a personal trainer.  It’s come as a bit of a surprise.  I didn’t plan it; it arose from working with a client and finding a way that she could part-pay me with her expertise.

I did make a conscious intention earlier this year to have a toned body, but in truth I couldn’t see this happening given the resistance I’ve been having to physical exercise.

That’s not always been the case:  I’ve had my periods in the past of regular gym workouts, running and, when I was working in Cambridge, cycling every day.  More recently I’ve been favouring Pilates classes, but often had niggling doubts that I wasn’t positioning my body quite right.

But now here is Ania in my life: encouraging me, correcting me, stretching me.  Like all good coaches.

Interestingly, when testing my physical condition Ania commented that given my strength and flexibility I must indeed be exercising. With some embarrassment I came clean, confessing that I d0…precisely none.

“Ah” she said knowingly, “then this is the result of your processing.”  (By this she meant the mental and spiritual work that I practise.) “You are not storing reactivity in your body, and it shows.”

It’s at this point that I get excited as I think what’s in store for both of us as we learn from one another, and put into practice what has been missing in our respective ‘workouts’.

If you live in London and would like to benefit from Ania’s one-to-one coaching let me know and I’ll pass on your details to her.  She’s very good.

The message of our fundamental self worth can be discovered in unlikely places.  Not surprisingly it lies at the heart of Brené Brown’s TED talk on vulnerability (and if you’re not one of the 4 million plus people who have seen this, do treat yourself by viewing here).  

I wasn’t expecting though to be reminded of the simple and profound truth that ‘I am enough’ when I went out with my boyfriend to see ‘a cool, brutal, deeply Scandinavian thriller’. 

We’ve only recently caught up with the thrill of ‘scandi drama’ via The Killing and Borgen, and so when we read a review for the recently-released Headhunters we resolved to go and see it there and then.

The film is deft and deliciously scary, with an antihero protagonist whose small frame is compensated by a super-size ego.  It is part of the film’s genius that at the same time that we are horrified by the stripping of this man’s basic dignity, we are cheering for the blossoming of his emerging self as a human being worthy of his own regard. 

For me it’s a daily practice to claim my ‘enough-ness’.  It’s encouraging to see that stand reflected back in the lives of others; real and fictional.

This morning I visited my dentist,  and was given two injections to numb the pain of his drilling.  It’s no big deal; apparently the anaesthetic wears off after a couple of hours.  I feel irritated though as I drink some coffee post-appointment, and find it dribbling down my chin.

It is at this moment that a picture of my mother comes to me.

A few years ago she’d had Bell’s Palsy, a condition whereby part of the face is ‘frozen’; a bit like having been at the effect of a stroke. Luckily in 95% of cases people recover full sensation and facial mobility.

Unfortunately for my mum she was one of the 5% who didn’t.

As I wipe the coffee from my face my irritation is replaced by a wave of compassion. No longer do I feel sorry for myself. My heart is opening to being in the shoes of another  human being; namely my mum.

The experience of being numbed out was infact a door. By choosing to walk through it I paradoxically discover the true depth of my feeling.