Search Results

That's a powerful word that word Zen! But what does it mean? Does it only apply to the orient and not to those of us who live in the West? It means peaceful and calm. In the busy world, we live in today, they are two states of being that are well sought after. How do we get there, is a good question. I certainly know how we get to a space of stress anxiety and overwhelm that’s easy! Just tune in to news items and the panic and stress of the people around me and I could very easily be down that black hole. The journey to Zen is one that has been taken many times and will be taken many times in the future. It is a journey of transformation, revelation, and meditation. The need to be peaceful and calm is a necessity now more than ever. As my work is all about empowering women to live their best life, I am hosting a meditation and relaxation course commencing on 8th March International women's day for six weeks every Wednesday night 7.00 p.m.-9.00 p.m. I aim to accompany you on your journey to finding that peaceful place that seems so far away. I chose this picture because it depicts that exact journey. Lots of busyness going on around in it and a woman contemplating whether she will enter the boat or not to take part in the journey. So it's a challenge for some of us to focus on self-care and taking that first step to doing what is best for us, but the benefits are many when the step is taken. Are you ready for that journey, can you step into the Zen Sanctuary and allow me to accompany you, support you and empower you, drawing on the ancient wisdom of Ayurveda and lead you to the place where peace and calm reside? The waters are still, the boat is ready, all the other passengers are waiting and the captain is waving the flag. Come on take the first step and join us, the benefits are definitely worth it. 💗 Find out more or book your place here https://www.reginacurleylifecoaching.ie/meditation-classes

“It is as instinctive to rub as it is to eat and drink” that quote came from the father of modern medicine Hippocrates. He wanted all of his physicians to be trained in the art of rubbing! Something happened in the translation there, as that is most certainly not what is happening today! What do you think about touch? Have you any idea how powerfully healing it is? I was sitting in the garden thinking about that and all the simple situations where healing takes place, just kept popping into my mind. For example, when a new baby grasps your thumb what does it feel like? You go all gooey and mushy? Me – definitely! When you’re five-year-old brushes your hair into the latest style what does that feel like? Me – do more! When your grandchildren rush into your arms – Nana wait until I tell you what happened. Me – filled with joy. When your lifetime partner holds you in his arms and just says nothing? Me – heart-stopping. When we all hold hands to close my workshops what does it feel like? Me – complete. What does it feel like when you are touched? Have you ever thought about it? A gesture, an embrace, was Hippocrates right all those thousands of years ago? Most definitely in my opinion. We were talking about this at one of my workshops with Reflexologists on the subject of pain and treatments, and what I think about the statement ‘no pain no gain’. When our children fall, we don’t pick them up and cause them more pain, we usually rub the area hug the child and reassure them everything will be alright. A number of years ago I had the privilege of working in a day centre for seniors and the power of touch was so healing for them. Some had no speech following an illness and some were bedbound and could not move. But the power of touch was so evident in their body language. Those who waited for me at the lift every Tuesday, to see who was first on the list, well that was a different story! The eighty-five-year-old matron (patient resident) who still inspected the windowsills for dust, loved her feet being worked on and ordered Reflexology every Tuesday when I asked what it was that she preferred. Because of the situation we have been in for the past few years, we have been discouraged from touching. Now It is time to recover the lost healing. I hope I have encouraged you to think more about the healing power of a touch, the authenticity of your favourite person holding your hand, hugging you, or just touching your fingertips. We need more Hippocratic thinking, that’s what I say. ➡️ Find out about my range of post graduate reflexology training courses here; https://www.reginacurleylifecoaching.ie/post-graduate-reflexology-workshops ➡️ Contact me to book a reflexology treatment! Or why not gift a treatment to someone you love this Christmas https://www.reginacurleylifecoaching.ie/reflexology

A Guest Blog by Sam Doran to mark Down Syndrome Awareness Month. I met Sam six years ago when he came into my class as a massage student. I can see potential with a capital P and this guy had it in bucketfuls. We’ve remained in touch as we are now colleagues sharing our interest in healthy body healthy mind. When I first walked into Crumlin College of further education in 2016 at the age of 21, I never thought I’d be in the position I am now. I never thought I would be fortunate enough to meet a uniquely amazing mentor in Regina Curley. When I first met Regina, it felt like I had already met her before! I was incredibly fortunate to work under & learn from an exceptional woman like Regina. With her bubbly, witty & outgoing personality every class was like a show. I would enter into Friday morning holistic massage classes not knowing what to expect but always left feeling full of joy, laughter & enthusiasm afterwards. Fast forward to summer 2019. I received a text from Regina asking if I would be interested in training her son Geoff who was recently representing team Ireland at the Special Olympics in Abu Dhabi. Geoff was interested in maintaining his fitness levels while building upon the new found confidence he had gained since becoming an Olympian! Without hesitation I accepted. I was very excited & nervous to begin training with Geoff. Excited because I knew it would be an opportunity of a lifetime, nervous because I had never trained anyone with down syndrome before so naturally I was fearful of messing up, not establishing rapport with Geoff & if I was able to deliver a service that he would find fun, engaging & beneficial. After the first session my fears & worries were eradicated. It was unbelievable to see how quickly Geoff would adapt to any form of physical activity or training stimulus. Geoff started by doing body weight squats in his first few weeks, he then shortly progressed on to performing deadlifts & pushing a weighted sled in a short time afterwards, what an incredible turn around! After the first few weeks, the rapport between Geoff and myself had blossomed, going from coach and athlete to good friends. Our greetings started from a hand shake & quickly evolved into a hug. The start of each session evolved from chatting and checking in with Geoff to Geoff destroying me in pool. I am yet to actually win a game of pool with Geoff, what a pool shark! We also love to discuss our favorite sports, including football, GAA, basketball & bowling. Unfortunately Geoff is a Manchester United man so we do have some differences (As do all great friendships) but we then bond over our mutual love of the Dublin GAA team. Yup Mayo for Sambos!! As a coach I couldn’t measure or quantify how it was working with Geoff, but to say the least it was a unique memorable experience. The endless love, compassion, belly laughs, humorous remarks and insightful coaching Geoff gave to his mum Regina while she was working out too. The aptitude & attitude Geoff displayed when entering into each session was incredible. For Geoff some days were hard, some days were easier, but the underlying constant is that Geoff showed up twice per week. This is an insight into some of the few amazing qualities Geoff possesses; consistency & dedication. I will be eternally grateful & appreciative to Regina. Not only did Regina teach me the skills to perform holistic massage treatments, she also instilled something in me that I never had before meeting her in 2016 and that was - self believe & self love. I will be forever grateful to Regina for allowing me the opportunity to meet and train her son Geoff, for the endless love, compassion, empathy & patience he has unearthed in me, is something I try to carry across in every aspect of my daily life. To say the least, my life has never been the same since meeting Regina & Geoff. Thank you for being two constant shining stars within my life to date. Sam Doran.

In August 1977, I gave up my job to become a fulltime mother. It is a decision I have never regretted. In my opinion there is no substitute for one’s mother. Parenting is a very special job. There are no set-down rules to be followed, only the example and values our own parents taught to us. Shaping the parents of the next generation is an enormous responsibility. Being a parent is also a position of great power. I chose to use mine to attempt to nurture a belief in themselves, a hope for their future and a caring attitude. I wrote these poems for my four children. It is a great honour to be their mother and have the care of them. First Born Twelve days late what shall I do? Its approaching October twenty two, A special delivery not the usual way, Brought a bundle of joy to me that day. A bonny Baby girl and a little blonde curl, I was in awe, my head in a whirl, Plump pink cheeks with her Dads little nose, Lying there surrounded by teddies and bows. Becoming a mother is a heavenly gain, The feeling no other can ever explain, Love of first born there is nothing to compare, Plentiful riches for both of us to share, She stands in her kitchen in her tall chef’s hat, Creating a dish from this and that, Tone goes so fast, she’s a young lady now, But she’s still my number one ‘know how’. To My Cherished Natalie The Tiny One Here we go again right on the button, In this life you get nothin’ for nothin’, Ready and willing prepared for the task, I thought I was anyway, oh where’s that mask? The clock went back one hour gained, Outside that night, it rained and rained, It seemed so long will I make it to the end? Where’s mother nature, I thought she was my friend. Out of the blue came a force from beyond, This time it’s a girl, dark and tiny, not blonde, Her cute little mouth and wee little hands, Would melt the heart of the hardest man. Darling little girl, I went all shivery, She was my prize on my first delivery, I held her so close I wouldn’t let her go, We have a special bond only we can know. She’s loving compassionate, caring and kind, And doesn’t have a problem speaking her mind, A pleasure to rear, easy no bother, It’s a wonderful gift just being her mother. To My Darling Simone A Christmas Treasured The middle of December I’m waiting on my third, Will he come while we’re tucking into the bird? Four days late he’s decided not to wait, He bounced into the world at one thirty-eight. Nine pounds seven ounces a healthy baby boy, He filled my heart with gladness and joy, The first male child for twenty-eight years, Smiling family faces and merry Christmas cheers. He’s a fine strapping lad, my first baby son, Capturing the heart of everyone, A shy little treasure that’s a clever as a fox, In 1981 he was my best Christmas box. To My Treasured Keith My Little Door Opener He arrived in haste in his own impulsive way, The sun shone down on that January day, Tears of relief, laughter, and joy, Welcomed the birth of my new baby boy. What more could I want, with my family complete, Two daughters, two sons, four was neat, But wait look again, I held him in my lap, The doctor announced, “possible mental handicap”. Shock, disbelief, anger, and shame, It was difficult choosing an appropriate name, I felt so inadequate God give me strength, To take care of my son, for whatever the length. He needed so much, the other children too, My time was limited, my friends seemed so few, Days filled with appointments, work programs galore, This burden was so heavy, I had to implore. My learning is slow, he taught me so much, The meaning of loving, giving and touch, At nine years old he is playful and wild, My little door opener, sure he’s my special child. To My Beloved Geoffrey #poetry #motherslove #family #siblings #lifelessons #mystory #nostalga #memories #raiseyourvibration

There are many ways to express yourself! You can shout out loud, you can sing, dance, or you can quietly write down your thoughts, save them for better days or burn them as a letting-go ritual. I find writing really therapeutic. It helps me let go of stored up negative energy and enhances the other practices that I have, of releasing what does not serve me. But most importantly it allows the inner creative part out. Even if it's to show gratitude, joy happiness, or fun, it all mounts up to being calm peaceful, and at ease. Try it, it's a wonderful exercise in courage. A positive challenge that builds on your self-esteem and confidence. That’s has to be good! If you have any poems you would like to share then please reach out Like Gabrielle did with this gem. I met Gabrielle four years ago. We were QTT students together. We shared lots of humour during our course. The tiger stood in our path. He spoke of freedom and wanting to go home His work was done here he said. For the first time ever I was able to speak with him, and listen to what he had to say. I heard serenity in his voice. I heard wisdom from his soul. He had family he wanted to dedicate his time to. He said it was time for me to let him go. He spoke of a strengthen within me. He spoke of the appropriateness of the roar and the seldom time it might be needed. He spoke of the freedom of trust, and knowing it with those closest to me. He imparted to me the importance of knowing my worth, knowing that even though I may feel hurt, I can be free and I can deal with that hurt without the roar. The tiger stood gentle and elegant on our path. He gave me the gifts of pride, strength, protection, wisdom, trust, inner knowing and above all the compassion of unconditional love. He walked back into his jungle of hope and I freely let him go. We both are now free to be and live a life of hope surrounded by our own gifts knowing that our roar is gentle and at peace. 💝 Gabrielle O’Hara 15/06/2020 ©

I was on an outing a couple of weeks ago with our community when I overheard a conversation about people who called to the door when you were young. So we took a trip back to the late fifties and early sixties to recount each persons experience when they were young, and what they could remember. Of course, me being me I had to join in and give my five pence worth! All the women at the top end of the bus were reminiscing about when they were children and how different times are now. The first person that was mentioned was of course the milkman. Every morning at 6.00 a.m. summer and winter hail rain and shine. We talked about the glass bottles and the foil lids and the way the birds would peck at the cream! The selection of milk too, jersey which was more expensive and given to children who were ‘delicate’, buttermilk, and full cream. No such thing as skimmed milk in those days! Then of course the bread man was next, in his battery-operated little van. Some women remembered their mothers inviting him in for a cup of tea and a chat. Then at Christmas time, he would arrive with a cake for the courtesy of the cuppa, which was like a magical event. A cake at Christmas was quite expensive so a gift like that was so appreciated. The paper man did the same, every evening the Herald or the Press was delivered to your door and the payment collected on Friday night. The coal man too would have been very popular as there was no central heating in houses then, it was the coal fire in most households. It usually arrived on the back of a horse and cart, with the coal man putting the full sacks up on his back and emptying them in the coal house, which in most households was underneath the stairs. Then the vegetable man got a mention, he would have the freshest of fruit and vegetables delivered to the door. Usually grown in his own garden. Well our one grew his own produce. When I said the laundry man there was a great burst of laughter. You must have been very posh, one woman said!! The sheets and the tablecloths were all that were laundered from our household. He too had a battery-operated little van from the White Swan Laundry. I remember the order book and the docket given. He would then call back the following week with the sheets washed and pressed and wrapped in brown paper. I have no idea what the cost was, but it was obviously worth it when we didn't have a washing machine. The postman of course still calls to the door to deliver our post. That service has been running since the late 1800s. Imagine! Everyone knew him and he knew everyone too. You cannot leave out the umbrella man! Our street had a regular umbrella man who called to the house to fix the broken umbrellas. He would sit on the doorstep outside and work away. Nothing was thrown away then, everything was fixable! Alongside him very often was the man who fixed the pots. He sold pots too, straight to the door where you would get service like it. I am sure that everyone had the man from the Royal Liver, collecting the insurance money. We called him the “Society Man”. The little book with the squares in it was ticked off when payment was made to him. He was almost a family friend as he would be brought into our house for a cuppa too. I remember the ice cream man. He came around with his horse and cart. It was one old penny for one wafer biscuit cut in two and a slice of ice cream or two old pennies for the full ice cream sandwich. My Nana and Grandad would order the four penny ones which to me as a child looked enormous! The ragman was another regular caller. He used to come around in a horse and cart collecting old clothes and jam jars. When you gave him something that was no longer needed, you got a prize, like a yo-yo or a balloon. We used to think that was great! How could you forget the slop man? He had a small farm. He collected all the potato peels and left over food, to feed his pigs. He would come around on a horse and cart too with big tin barrels on the back of it. You would go out to him with the slop bucket and he would tip it into the big barrel. Very often he would throw the two pence back into the end of the slop bucket and what a job that was trying to retrieve it! But I suppose the way things were back in the fifties and early sixties, that in order to buy something for the family it was usually done by higher purchase. If that’s a nice name for it! Cost the families a fortune, but it was the only way it was done. I can remember my Dad laying down the law to my Mam about not getting involved with “those characters”! Lots of families borrowed money to buy Christmas presents, First Communion outfits, and all sorts of other things that were not supported by the weekly wage. Things were very different then. People, in general, had very little, certainly those I played with in the street and went to school with. We seemed much happier way back then for some strange reason, maybe not knowing what you could have was a better way of being. No internet, no phone, no TV so all you had was letter writing and word of mouth really and trust, to turn up for an appointment or a date. No non-stop texting that I see happening now. However, we did have good social skills. We all played team games very well, with very little arguing and fighting. You knew from the off that if you wanted to be included in the game you had to play fair and get along with everybody. I don't see much of that today, such a pity. I’m glad I have happy memories of when I was a child. Lots of responsibility mind you, but happy just the same. But in recalling all those people who called to the door, the oxytocin, endorphins and serotonin flowed, along with the laughter and for some a few tears. We recycled, reused and re-created lots of things in those times, long before green and brown bins ever came into use. So nowadays are we better off or worse off I ask that question?

I met Jenny during lockdown. We were introduced through a colleague of mine. We have remained in contact ever since and when she joined the nurture niche I was delighted. We have Special Olympics in common and have had lots of chats about being a volunteer and the great work the organisation does. Hello, my name is Jenny. I am happy and proud to be a member of the Nurture Niche. I am mother of two and grandmother (Nana) to my precious grandchildren – Grace aged 5 and Leo aged 1. I am a busy Nana these days looking after them while my daughter and son-in-law are at work. I retired twelve years ago and enjoy having time to indulge in my favourite hobbies – genealogy, gardening, knitting and crochet, jigsaws and crosswords. I started investigating my family tree about thirty years ago. It is easier now that there is so much info on-line. I organised a family reunion in 2012. Relations from America, Australia, England, Scotland and different parts of Ireland turned up. It has been hinted that we need another Reunion in 2024. I find researching engrossing and it is my go-to activity when life is difficult and I overthink everything that is going on. My garden is wild and colourful. I love roses, osteospermums, busy lizzies, geraniums. I often neglect the housework and spend hours planting, pruning and arranging. My Mam was a wonderful seamstress. She did try to teach me but the sewing machine and I didn’t get on. I took up knitting and crochet instead. My daughter suffers badly from hay fever. When she got married, she asked me to crochet flowers for the wedding party. I was delighted to be asked and made roses, dahlias and sweet william for the groom, Will. In 1999, I watched a tv programme about the Special Olympics World Games in America. It had been announced that the 2003 games would be in Ireland. I sent an email immediately to Special Olympics Ireland asking if I could be involved. I volunteered as secretary of the Organisation Committee for a couple of years until it became full time. I volunteered at the 2002 Ireland Games and at cycling in the Phoenix Park at 2003 World Games. In 2005, I was one of twenty-six Irish Volunteers at the Winter Games in Japan. While there, I learned that the Leinster Region was being split and a new Eastern Region (Dublin and parts of Wicklow and Kildare) was being set up. I became Secretary of the new Region. I joined a Club in 2006 as Motor Activities Coach. I love spending time with the wonderful Athletes. It is so rewarding and grounding. As well as weekly training, I have taken part in Regional Games, Ireland Games and World Games. I am involved in the Athlete Leadership Programme. The Athletes learn skills to be advocates for all Athletes. As a Mentor, I volunteered with a Club Athlete at the World Games in Athens. Currently, I am working with another Athlete who is working on her gold award (based on the Gaisce Awards). I have really missed meeting with these Athletes over the past couple of years. We’ve kept in touch on Zoom but I am looking forward to the Forum in October. Since retiring, I volunteer at the Eastern Region Support Group on Wednesday mornings at the office in Blanchardstown. Unfortunately, Covid interfered with this. We hope to get back in September. Although emotionally vulnerable at times, I am grateful to Regina and others who have helped me to sort out my disorientated thoughts and feelings. I am also grateful to my family and friends and the many Athletes and Volunteers with Special Olympics.

During my time as a teacher of therapies, and of course while treating clients, it was never possible to paint my fingernails. Not that I was desperate to do it or anything, but because it is best to lead by example I felt I couldn't tell students not to paint theirs when I had mine pained! The only time I could paint them was for holidays or if I didn’t have clients for bodywork appointments as it's not possible to work with long nails anyway. I have a long list of values, one of them integrity and the other common courtesy. Two important ones when dealing with clients. Because my business involves a service, I am very aware of the type of service I offer. Thirty years ago when I was first setting up my business my main aim was to offer personal attention, good support, correct information and value for money. Even now thirty years later that still stands and more besides. However, I am disappointed to say that I am experiencing more and more that shops, salons, whatever the business, just can’t be bothered. It seems that any old thing will do, when actually this is the time for small businesses to shine with their little touches and show what they do best. A few weeks ago I decided to try a new nail salon fairly local to where I live. Never having been in it before, I booked a french manicure with ordinary polish as I don’t like shellac. I had a bad experience with it and it took four years for the nails to completely repair, so I'm not going there again! The really nice therapist at the reception desk took my appointment and said that’s no problem, quoted me the price and I turned up on the day at the appointed time. The owners of the salon are Asian. I was met by a young Irish woman, who had a very rude, serious attitude problem, chewing gum, dressed in very short shorts, her long hair hung down around her shoulders, which she constantly pushed back with her hands while she was working. I didn't get any eye contact just pointed at. She seemed annoyed with something or someone and I happened to be the target of her anger. I felt let down already before any work began. Now when I was training and when I was a trainer, image was always very important. Clean uniforms, whatever you decided your uniform was, be it a polo shirt and tracksuit bottoms, a blouse and trousers or a tunic top, were clean and presentable as what you wore represented your profession. Hair tied back off the face and shoulders too. ‘You’re here for a french manicure with shellac, a manicure now, the one where you soak your fingers in the thing’ she said. I said no, ordinary polish please and yes a manicure. She tutted and went over to the shelf. We don’t have any white she said back to me, still no eye contact. Well that is what I booked when I came in a few days ago. More teeth sucking from the therapist I am now beginning to feel very uneasy. She found the white and proceeded to point at this tiny little bowl to soak my fingertips in. I followed her pointing and placed my fingertips in it. No words just pointing. Shocking. She started to file down my nails on the opposite hand and work on my cuticles. I thought that was done after the soak, but however she was the therapist! She moaned to the person beside her that the white nail polish was very thin several times and the therapist ignored her. She constantly talked to the client that was being worked on beside me and completely ignored me. Not that I wanted to have non-stop conversation, but some acknowledgement might be a suggestion, considering I was a new client. Following several coats of white, which I thought was strange I was finished. I felt like I had burdened her, or that I was in the way, a bother in other words. Rather, here I was paying for the service of a very rude young woman to do a french manicure which I later discovered she didn't seem to know how to do at all. Well the manicure finished with a little spot of cream rubbed into the back of each hand. Don’t forget, she said, that the first layer might be dry but the ones underneath take an hour at least for ordinary polish. So mind you don’t smudge. I thanked her and left. That was Friday afternoon. Having had the experience of several manicures, I really missed the soak, the sugar scrub, and the massage that most services offer. However, as I had not been in here before, I didn't say anything I just observed. I got home and had a look at them. All the white tips were different depths with no uniformity about them at all. Well there you go I said to myself you won’t be going back there. Well that's what I thought anyway. My usual salon was booked out that weekend, and now I know why. They offer really good service and excellent customer care. On Sunday morning I noticed that the nail on the middle finger of my left hand, the nail polish had stripped off, followed by the finger next to it shortly after. Then my little finger. By the end of Sunday I had two fingers with paint still on. I am aware that ordinary polish does not last as long as shellac, but I usually get at least a week to ten days if not more depending on what I am doing. Two days I thought was just a bit too short. The next day was Monday and one finger on the other hand the polish had disappeared there too. Not disappeared so much as completely peeled off. Well I decided I was not going to tolerate this and returned to the salon. A very nice young woman came to the reception desk. I explained what happened. She asked me who did the work and I told her. Okay she said may I take a photo of your nails please. She took her photo and asked if she could correct the work for me at the earliest possible appointment. So I agreed. She then called another woman over and they spoke in a foriegn language I didn't understand. The second woman looked at my hands and in her best English said, I am so sorry for your experience, please come back to us and allow us to put this right for you. I am glad I went back and gave them the opportunity to put the situation right. I was treated very well and was really happy with my french manicure. The original therapist was present and never approached me or eye-contacted me. I just thought to myself, how very disappointing and totally rude. Had that happened to me I would have been the first to approach and apologise for my work. So what's the secret to making a complaint? Your language is very important. It should not be critical of any person, in this case critical of the work done and how I was treated. If an establishment does not know there is a problem how can they resolve it. Much better to say what you are not happy with rather than go outside and badmouth them. The message is never the problem really it is usually how it is delivered. That goes across the board for everything don’t you think? Well I was delighted with the response I got on my return, all's well that ends well.

This is a poem about stars, But I’d rather be eating Mars bars, They fit in your pocket, Unlike a space rocket, But the Milky Way will always top it! In a Galaxy far from the earth, I’ve reserved a rocket one berth, You can slide on a moonbeam, Visit your light team, The experience is buzzing with mirth!

A few years ago I decided to change my brand. While I knew a change was needed I had no idea what I wanted. Many conversations later, I found a little gem of a woman who was very helpful and gave me the support I needed to make that change. In the course of conversation with the designer who made my logo about what I wanted and the colours I might use, she asked me what my work involved. I did my best to explain, which at that time was very difficult for me. I knew what I did of course but I couldn't get it across very well, that made me really examine what I did and my ‘why’. Having listened to me she said she thought she was trying to capture a feeling. I thought that was really inspirational as that was exactly what my business was about, feelings and helping other people manage theirs. Because I had so many different modalities she tried to see the connection between them. She is a very talented young woman that clearly does her work very well and knows her stuff. That conversation made me really look at my work. What do I do and the effect it has on the clients I work with and the results they get? I then began to realise that when I work on a client, not only do they get good results, but the other people that they are living with and surrounded by, get the benefit as well. Last but not least, I get benefits too. As the practitioner, the work that others bring to me for resolution also is my work too. Assisting clients to gain clarity, change their old patterns of behaviour to ones that serve them better, make decisions and live their best life, helps me to do the same. The ripple effect is so powerful. There is no way that you can possibly work in isolation from everyone else, after all, we are all connected energetically. Getting back to the young woman who helped me with the logo, I felt she got me in one when she presented my initials and the ripple on the water in between. Besides being delighted with the logo, she made me really look at my work and why I do what I do. She had no idea about QTT or Reiki or Reflexology, so she got me to explain what they all did for the clients that booked in. I have attended many workshops and short courses over the years. All of that learning has an impact on those that live with me and are around me. Even as a practitioner, when I train in a new modality, my family members gain from my new knowledge. That’s the ripple effect in action.

A poem by Regina Curley Its morning they say as they chirp away Wake up wake up and start your day The sweet little sound of their morning routine They are up and ready for the sunshine it seems Get up sleepy head you’ve had enough rest Jump in the shower and put on your best It’s a beautiful day and our job to declare Our sweet little song can be heard everywhere

I have realised plenty of times in my life that I am so lucky. Lucky to have a good husband, children, grandchildren, a peaceful home, a comfortable lifestyle, good colleagues, and supportive friends. My special friends are a group of women from my school days, my school pals. I met them in September 1959 when we started as junior infants together at the Marist Primary School on Clogher road in Crumlin. We were the pioneer class starting a new school, a new time in life and a new world of education and communication. A group of us from that class have been friends since. We are not the ‘in your face’ friends but those you can meet once or twice a year, go right back to your school days, laugh and reminisce and remind ourselves of how innocent and yet responsible we were as children and young teenagers going through the school system. When I was teaching, I often told students in my class that when I was in fifth and sixth, we had 72 pupils in the class. Six rows across and twelve desks per row. They used to look at me as if I were mad. Well, that’s debatable, but it was a fact about the large numbers of pupils in the class. How on earth was a teacher expected to teach that number of pupils without any help or any support? Impossible, I believe the answer to that is,it was absolutely impossible. However, here we are now veterans of that system that put a dunce's hat on the head of the person who could not pick up where the last person left off when we were reading aloud or finish the problem on the board when we did sums. Oh God that reminds me, I hated sums. A teacher told me one time I must be stupid because I could not add two and two. I was so nervous at the board that I couldn’t think and got the sum wrong. That statement stayed with me for many years. We made our first communion and confirmation together. Went on school tours and took part in Christmas Operettas, as they were called at our school, a concert to everyone else! All of us from working class parents and grandparents and they were all doing their best to give us the best possible opportunities in life, as they had so little in theirs. The free education scheme had just come into action and the parents in our community were taking everything they could get for us, so we could have a better future. During our school time, we had lots of experiences together. Most of them are fun orientated. Those who had the courage to challenge the teacher, well they were the most fascinating, that's what I thought, because I was terrified to do that! What I mean by challenging, giving back a bit of cheek to the nun! That was about the height of it. We were really good friends to each other and looked out for one another. That’s something I see less and less of nowadays such a pity. There were plenty of times when I felt held by these young women, who were my school pals, now still my lifelong friends, that I trust impeccably with any information about my life. The talent in that class shone through time and time again. We had teachers, nurses, administrators, physios, therapists and more. We wrote plays together, went on strike and acted in pageants! Some even cut the top off their school tunic, which was royal blue with yellow tartan, and rolled up the pleated skirt so it was mini length!! So funny. So simple, so innocent. That was about as bad as it got! The boy’s tech which was across the road from the school and they called us the ‘blue bottles’. Our uniform was very unique at the time: royal blue gabardine, beret, cardigan, and tunic, white shirt and blue tie. The first class to start the girl’s secondary school, the first of its kind in the area. So we met a while ago, and one said it was a special anniversary as it was 50 years since we sat our leaving cert. The 7th June 1972! Imagine that. And we are still friends and meet a couple of times a year to enjoy the craic. We are older, wiser, some of us grandparents and some great grandparents. Did I ever think we would be sitting together, having dinner and a few drinks and lots of laughter sixty three years later. Never! What a bunch of legends we are. School pals if you are lucky to have them, they really are the best pals.