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Here you can find a selection of my musings and reflections. Would love to hear what you think - please leave me a message.

  • Writer: Naomi Gates
    Naomi Gates
  • Aug 1
  • 3 min read

Updated: Sep 3

This month there have been two contrasting images.


The heartbreaking photo of Hedaya al-Muta’wi and her emaciated son Mohammed in Gaza.

There’s not enough food, people are starving.

 

“Our plum tree has lots of ripe fruit on it. Please help yourself as there is more than we can use.” A wonderful WhatsApp invitation to share the sweet taste of summer.


A neighbours’ mature Mirabelle plum tree has never fruited like it has this year. Daily, the harvest has filled many containers and still a rich supply decorates the branches. The conditions this year have been perfect for a bumper crop. Amazing abundance.


Small red Mirabelle plums in abundance on tree
Small red Mirabelle plums in abundance on tree

Without the invitation to share, all that delicious, juicy energy would have been absorbed back into the soil. Bruised decaying fruit would have drawn in wasps and kept neighbours at bay.

The invitation to share has brought neighbours together and strengthened connections. Some were made into jam and gifted back. Cakes, puddings and crumbles have graced many tables. Unexpected joy and celebration. The sweetness of a shared experience. Generous gift.

 

The current dominant narrative is of scarcity. We believe there’s not enough resources on the planet – not enough food, not enough jobs, not enough housing, not enough land, not enough time. It’s the lens we wear, so it’s what we see and we’re in danger of believing it cannot be changed. And worse that conflict and war are inevitable in a race to secure enough to survive.

Yet the tree offers another lens, one of amazing abundance and mutual enjoyment. I’m so thankful for Pete and Sonia’s generous invitation to share. The plums were delicious and so was the communal joy. It blessed us and our neighbours.


And encouraged me to ask – “What I can share?” “What do I have that I can invite others to enjoy?” Dinner, cake, conversation, questions, family life and all it’s mess.  


I know the strong temptation to retract from the devastation in our world - be it international, local or personal. The strong desire to only seek joy and pleasure.


Yet to live is to know both. We all have unmet needs that speak of scarcity and we all have precious abundance to offer another. Strength is all sharing both.


I found a heart wrenching poem that speaks of our capacity to hold both sorrow and joy tenderly. Oh, how I need that word that means okay and not okay. The antithesis of “fine”.

So, stand with me this summer when you ask how I am, and I howl with grief and burble with delight. May our hearts be willing to stretch and grow to tenderly bear both together.

 

I want a word that means

okay and not okay

more than that: a word that means

devastated and stunned with joy

I want the word that says -

I feel it all at once.

The heart is not like a songbird

singing only one note at a time,

more like a Tuvan throat singer

able to sing both a drone

and simultaneously

two or three harmonics high above it -

a sound the Tuvans say

that gives the impression

of wind swirling among rocks.

The heart understands swirl,

how the churning of opposite feelings

weaves through us like an insistent breeze

leads us wordlessly deeper into ourselves,

blesses us with paradox

so we might walk more openly

into this world so ripe with devastation

this world so ripe with joy.

Rosemary Wahtoler Trommer

 

 
 
 
  • Writer: Naomi Gates
    Naomi Gates
  • Jul 5
  • 5 min read

Updated: Aug 1

Life transitions and vulnerability


Looking forward together
Looking forward together

 

Our eldest is home after graduating from university. She’s done amazingly well and we’re pleased to see her - but she’s not where she wants to be and that’s hard for her.

Three years ago, she didn’t know how and if she would manage the transition to living and studying at university, but she has and she returns changed. She’s grown in confidence, learnt new skills and established community. It’s been amazing to see.


Now her challenge is to transition from work that supplements (she’s been brilliant at having part time work) to work that sustains. It’s a big change that’s feeling very daunting. It will take a while and she’ll need support practical, emotional and financial whilst she does it.

We’d love to be providing some of the support she needs in the months ahead. We think it would be easier for her to navigate that transition in community, with daily company and the sharing of chores - but community comes with challenge, particularly when you’re autistic. She’s unsure about being home for an unknown amount of time and doesn’t want it to undermine the confidence she had to live independently.


As parents we’re also going through a life transition. We are learning how to relate to our children as adults, respecting the choices they make whilst requiring positive contribution to the household chores and relationships. Learning how to create new ways of living that work for us all.


It’s requiring all of us to connect deeply with ourselves, our passion and purpose for this time, and to connect with each other trusting we will meet positive responses. This isn’t always easy to do.


As a family we’re working out how we can offer space and support that our daughter will experience as hospitable and empowering, whilst being honest about our own needs and limitations.


Can we respect her own needs and limitations, even let go of our own desires for her, so that home is spacious and gracious enough for her to try, make mistakes and try again and again until she is successful in a way that’s meaningful for her? Are we taking enough time to know her dreams and desires? Do we believe in them enough to courageously offer challenge when we see her veering away from them?


Are we in touch with how we are, what we need, what we can offer and what we can’t? Can we notice and own our own emotions, have we learnt ways to regulate ourselves? Are we willing to share our dreams and desires with her?


Life transitions always through up so many questions and require us to learn and adapt.

Encountering different life transitions in my life, I’ve struggled to know what I needed and wanted. Unsurprisingly I’ve often failed to effectively communicate my needs to those closest to me and have been disappointed and frustrated by their inability to see and meet me. For many decades I carried a deep sense of shame and only saw my failings and weaknesses. It was a struggle to own any strengths. Passion and desire was something I feared rather than pursued wholeheartedly meaning I often felt stuck, disconnected and despondent about the value of my own life. How I was fluctuated with my circumstances and emotions. As unpredictable as the English weather.


My wellbeing was often dependent on the state of those around me. When the kids, husband, wider family and friends were OK I was OK. But how often do all the stars align? Sound familiar? What a weight on everyone. What good is it if everyone’s in the hole together? Might be nice company for a while but how’s anyone going to get out?


I thought my worth was dependent on the value I added to each situation or relationship. If I couldn’t see what I was adding, what worth did I have?


Life transitions can be a wonderful opportunity to shake us up and make us consider the beliefs we’re holding about ourselves and the world we live in.


My most transformative life transition was perimenopause. Thankfully it coincided with discovering how neurodiversity showed up in our family, parenting teenagers and Covid! It was a turbulent life transition in turbulent global times, it was utterly challenging and deeply blessing. Spiritually, I dove deep into solitude and silence and encountered indescribable love. Physically, I engaged in practices that taught me to listen and honour the needs of my body and affirmed the value of rest. I learnt to live rhythmically, in line with the tides and seasons. Socially, I connected beyond via zoom and telephone with people who got me and were passionate about the things that mattered to me. It was so exciting. I gobbled up content that helped me understand how the neurodiversity of those I lived with affected them and me and a friend reached out and offered me some coaching sessions and taught me the value of being forward focused.


Now I know what I need to self-parent through the tumult of life transitions. I need to stretch in the morning and move throughout the day, and I need to be outside a lot. Nourishing food and creative outlets help me sleep well. My faith anchors my hope, centering prayer and community gatherings act as an anchor chain. To know how I am and to check I’m not overextending myself, I take time daily to reflect and pray. To maintain positivity, I keep a gratitude journal and make time for friends who know me well and with whom I can laugh and relax. My passion and purpose is to see and hear others so they too may discover they’re loved and to love more deeply. It’s work I can only do when I’ve allowed myself to be seen and heard by myself and God.


The deep work of that life transition has meant I’m now more grounded and content, confident and humble, flexible and strong. I’m more loving towards myself and others.


And I’m excited for transition in parenting, hopeful for the changes that will come. We are, and have been, very human parents. We’ve made mistakes. Some consciously, others not. We’re learning to accept our lack and mourn damage we’ve done. I’m learning to apologise sincerely without encountering shame. I’m learning to celebrate the good parenting we’ve done. We’re all learning to hold ourselves more lightly and discover new ways of having fun together.


I’m excited that our eldest gets to return home for a while and experience these changes.

I’m excited to see her discover work that sustains, I know she will, no matter the challenges along the way. She’s amazed me with her courage, resilience, determination and compassion through her transition time at university. She didn’t need us to create a pathway through those years - she did that herself. But she did appreciate our encouragement, reassurance, exploratory questions, noticings and reflections.

 

Parenting an adult child looks and sounds a lot like coaching!

 

If any of this resonates with you, do get in touch. Though you might be finding the life transition you’re in deeply uncomfortable, I love working in this space. I can be a steady companion to help you discover the wisdom you need to connect deeply with your passion and purpose which will enable you to live with more love, peace and freedom.

 

 
 
 
  • Writer: Naomi Gates
    Naomi Gates
  • Jun 5
  • 2 min read

Updated: Jul 5

Eight years ago I promised to take our middle daughter on a day trip to Guernsey. I knew she would love the ferry and the sense of adventure. The girl who begged for a whole crab for her 3rd birthday would have her mind blown by a Seafood platter. would blow her mind. I thought it would be a great way to mark the end of primary school.


But I never managed it.


Unexpectedly we were both free this half term and I decided it was time to finally make good on that promise before she leaves for university.


As a girl I sailed into St Peter’s port for a brief stay and a postcard image of a tiny chapel decorated with shells had hooked into my heart. Wouldn’t it be fun to finally be able to visit it and explore some of the coves and lanes on the rest of the island.


Our day trip morphed into a few nights stay and on Bank Holiday Monday we set sail on a wonderfully turbulent sea to enjoy some island time together.


In my mind I still wanted her to experience the exciting fruit de Mer that I associate with crossing the channel and I wanted to see that tiny seashell chapel. What a treat it would be to share two girlhood jewels of memory with my daughter.


But time moves on. Now we travel as two adults.


Since my original promise, our daughter has discovered sailing herself and was able to share memories of adventures she’d had in St. Peter’s Port and from taking the bus round the island. What a joy to hear them.


Fruit de Mer’s no longer in fashion so we delighted in crab sandwiches and fresh mussels. Wow they tasted good.


And the chapel? Well, that too had changed.



It was renovated in 2016 and though it still has some shells in it's decoration, it’s mostly clothed in a mosaic of vibrant ceramics. Though I felt a moment of sadness, we both loved seeing it as it is, especially as we had it all to ourselves.

 

Those jewels of memory sparkle still in my mind but they are not ours and never could be. What a lesson that was.


Ours are cliffside walks, sunset beaches, Guernsey ice cream and each other.


Now home, those memories will remind me to hold on and honour those precious, cherished intentions I set whilst also allowing those hopes and dreams to find their own expression in the moment.


What dreams or intentions in your life feel long overdue? If you’d value voicing them, I’d love to hear from you. Who knows what adventure might get unlocked?

 
 
 
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