On returning to the world…with a little help from some friends…

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On returning to the world…with a little help from some friends…

Today I am feeling celebratory. It is now three years this month since I returned to work part-time – albeit at an age where most sensible people are contemplating doing the opposite!

An important bridging step was going back to university to do some postgraduate study. I coped well with the rigours of getting up very early to travel to my place of study, managed to do the brain-frying amount of reading each week, completed and passed my assignments. Then, in March 2012, whilst wrestling with a social science research essay for which I felt no enthusiasm at all, I had the startling thought:

” I am now perfectly well and recovered. Why don’t I just go back to work?”

So, dear Reader, I did, and have not looked back. However, the process of arriving at that decision was not straightforward. Whilst looking through some of the writing I did during the build-up to that March 2012 decision, I found this piece – written to “generate raw data” for a social science tutorial – quite amusing. Maybe my blog followers would like it, I thought…

Anne and Friend compose the latest blog post....

Anne and her animal Muse generate raw data….

cartoon by Paul F. Newman

“…Friday 27th January 2012 11.38 am Hillhead Library Glasgow…

“I am in despair”, I said to the young man behind the counter of a posh local deli which was about to charge me £1.50 for a very small bottle of Chegworth Valley pear juice: my bribe to go straight to the library. I live in Glasgow where you can say more or less what you like to anyone without being regarded as all that odd.

“Have you ever been a student?” I asked him.

“I AM one” he said, smiling happily. “I, too, have known despair….” He paused. “And will know it again, no doubt.”

“Yes” I replied with a sigh. “All part of the joy, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely” he responded.

Thus comforted, I proceeded to Hillhead library, where I now sit, wondering why the f—- I am doing a Masters Degree at my age.

Half an hour ago, I was leaning against my husband, who was sitting in his study playing cards on his computer, listening to Bruckner. I hate Bruckner. He loves it. “Oh woe,” I moaned. “Woe and thrice woe! Why am I doing this. Why, why, why?”

“You seemed to be enjoying it until yesterday”, he replied. Used to my melodramatics, he favours a low-key response in his mature years. Uses up less energy.

“I know, I know” I wailed. “But that was yesterday.”

Today the full horror of realising I have to change my research topic and produce some research material from something else altogether for next week has dawned on me. At 3.37 am, to be precise. Which is why I need a night’s sleep, now, urgently. But I am in the library instead, beating myself up.

However, I am also having a quiet laugh at my own expense. After all, I can simply walk away, and start to pick up the threads of my former career. I am now fit enough to do so. I don’t need this Degree. I have enough pieces of paper.

It’s a trying business, finding one’s way in the world again: but my overriding general feeling is one of gratitude that I have sufficient energy to be able even to attempt re-entry….”

Aaaargh!!!

Despite my default rationalist stance, Life has demonstrated to me that if your Daimon or guiding spirit has decided a certain path is for you, then events and encounters tend to occur which reinforce the direction you are meant to be taking. Here are two cases in point…

On Sat 28 January 2012 at 1130am, the day after my data-generating exercise, I had an arrangement to meet a young woman in her thirties for a cup of coffee and a chat. Having found me on Google, she wondered whether I ran any astrology classes or did any one to one teaching? For years, I had said a polite “No” to all requests for my services as a counsellor, astrologer or astrology teacher.

But for some reason, I thought it might be an idea to meet Emilia (not her real name) and find out what she wanted. She was, and still is, is in a high-powered, demanding and stressful job which she largely enjoys – but very much wished to pursue her more esoteric interests at this stage in her life.

After an hour of talking, she looked at me piercingly and stated baldly “You have to go back to work. You cannot keep all this knowledge to yourself.” This, in sum, was a clear case of “When the pupil is ready, the teacher appears” meeting “When the teacher is ready, the pupil appears.” Emilia and I are still in touch, and still talk about this pivotal moment for me. I shall always be grateful for her directness and honesty.

As though that wasn’t enough of a nudge, a mere two days later on Monday 30th of January 2012, my husband Ian’s birthday, I then had a striking and totally unexpected encounter. I was sitting having a cup of coffee with Ian in a local cafe when a white-haired lady came over and very tentatively asked if I was the Anne Halliburton who had taught Assertiveness classes at Strathclyde University in the late 1980s.( I have always run my more conventional careers under Ian’s surname…” ) “I’ve seen you around a few times,” she said, “and wanted to speak to you before. But today is the day….”

I affirmed that I was indeed that person, she told me her name, and said she had been one of my students during that time. She then went on to be wonderfully affirming of me in terms of my professionalism and way of being with people all those years ago. “What I learned from you then has continued to be useful in all the years since,” she said. “And it is of help now, in a difficult situation I am currently facing.” She then paused. “It wasn’t just your professionalism, it was you, your personality” she said slowly. “You are a special person, a very gifted person. I hope you are still using those talents…”

Whilst she was saying all this, I could feel myself becoming tearful. I didn’t attempt to conceal this, and remarked to her that her kind words were moving me to tears.

She then excused herself to another part of the cafe to have her soup and sandwich. I sat there, stunned. Ian smiled at me. “What more affirmation do you need of the rightness of your desire to return and be of help again?” he said.

On the way out, I stopped and thanked her for what she had said. “You will never know how timely this is, or how much it means to me” I said, looking straight into her eyes. Three months later, I was back at work.

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