I have been reflecting today about fellowship. What it means, where you can get it, how you can become a part of it. To me a fellowship, in a non-religious sense, means a company of individuals connected by a common purpose, with similar interests and values, who are committed to that goal or purpose. Each individual works as part of a team to support the other individuals on their journey.

There are many different kinds of fellowship; some are based around shared passions, others around belief systems or ways of thinking about the world. How you find and become part of a fellowship is a tricker question. My feeling is that you can’t decide to form a fellowship, it comes into being and then you realise what it is. 

I’ve been fortunate enough to have found two very different but equally supportive and nourishing fellowships in the past few months. It has made me realise the truth in the quote that the human need for fellowship is as deep as the need for food.

The unconditional safety net provided by a fellowship comes into its own when one of the individuals in the group is going through a challenging time. The others rally round, offering their skills and support. 

At the moment, I am the member of the fellowship going through a tough time and have been awestruck by the offers of help that I’ve had from my companions. As I’ve often told myself a story in the past about always having to deal with difficulty on my own, it has given me so much comfort to know that the fellowship is there to hold me in its embrace. 

The joyous part of fellowship is that the members don’t need to be close friends, although many of them will become friends. The important thing is that they are there if you need them and you trust them because they share your values. 

I now understand why I am so compelled by The Lord of the Rings and can watch the film trilogy over and over again: fellowship is the theme that runs through the epic story. The members of the fellowship are all very different - indeed some of them start out by actively disliking each other - but they are united by the common purpose of delivering the one ring into the bowels of Mount Doom to free Middle Earth from evil.

By the end of the story, after all is said and done, they are all heroes in their own way and have been utterly transformed by the journey they have been on together. That is what I resonate with and that is the sort of fellowship I want to be a part of. 

Forget social media, this is the type of connection we crave as human beings - real, flesh-and-blood trust and mutual support. As the Three Musketeers said - all for one and one for all. 

Question: what do you do when someone places what seems like an insurmountable obstacle in front of you? Do you try to climb over it? Squeeze round the side of it? Or just give up and back off? Or do you play with the metaphor to see if there is a solution your conscious mind hasn’t yet come up with?

OK. Let’s play. What kind of obstacle is that obstacle? It is a great big boulder that has been dropped on to the road in front of me. The road is now impassable. There’s no way I can move this boulder on my own, and even if I got help it would be hard to shift.

It’s like an Act of God: no one could have done anything about this boulder appearing on the road. It’s a leap of faith to even accept that this boulder has completely changed my reality, so I spend some time looking in the opposite direction.

Now I’m facing the boulder. The dust is still rising. I’m going in to have a closer look. It’s made of granite, and sparkles with quartz crystals. There is something comfortingly solid about it; a sense that it has been forged over hundreds of thousands of years - enduring, almost eternal.

It reminds me of some of the standing stones I’ve visited - it feels so ancient and almost spiritual. Yet it chose to break away from whatever it was attached to and tumble down the hillside on to my path.

So this boulder isn’t as threatening as I had imagined. Perhaps it is trying to show me that the path I had been taking is not the one I should be following.

But is this the right conclusion? I allow my intuition to guide me to a Zen proverb: “The obstacle is the path”. Obstacles that were huge and insurmountable today will, with time and thought, become not so big tomorrow.

There’s also a Zen story attached to this proverb, about a king who believed his people had lost their inspiration. He decided to place a boulder on the only road into his city. Most people, when confronted by the obstacle, turned back. Then an old man arrived, and was excited by the challenge posed by the boulder.

A quote from ancient mathematician Archimedes popped into his head: “If you give me a large enough lever and a fulcrum on which to place it, I shall move the world.”  So the old man found a long wooden pole and placed it under the boulder. He levered away until the boulder was completely off the road.

The old man was about to set off toward the city, but noticed a bag lying where the boulder once stood. He looked inside and found a large amount of gold as well as a note. The note read: “This gold is for you, since you know that great obstacles can lead to bigger opportunities.” 

The thought that there might be gold under the boulder is a great comfort to me. I’m going to revisit the scene and spend time near the boulder until inspiration strikes. Then I might find a way to move mountains.

I used to believe that I wasn’t an angry person. That I didn’t “do” anger. I avoided loud people, rarely had arguments and condemned aggression. 

Anger did not fit into my self-image. No, I was the nice girl - calm, balanced, sensible, controlled, reasoned, a people-pleaser. All sweetness and light. Except that I wasn’t. A covert hostility lurked beneath the surface, which manifested itself in cutting remarks, quick wit and sarcasm. 

I was conflict-averse so instead of confronting situations, I withdrew and allowed resentment and hurt to build and fester - never realising that this was simply anger in a different form.

In order to maintain my poise, I had to bury a lot of poison. During my “nice” phase I would be shocked if someone said I seemed aloof, or that they wouldn’t dare cross me. I had become so disconnected from my anger that I was totally unaware it was there. But it must have been leaking out because others were picking up on it. 

I projected my inner mean bitch on to others, attracted friends who either vomited their anger everywhere, sat on it and glowered or just got depressed, and stayed stuck in my “nice” persona.

It took a tough teacher to get me to start owning my anger. I realised I had to give myself permission to feel it, and when I’d done that - in a safe space - I was able to connect to my rage. Only then did I understand what had been keeping me from it - a fear that I would not survive, that it would destroy me. 

Connecting with that red energy doesn’t come naturally to me so I know I have to work at expressing it in a healthy way. But I’m now able to get into my anger - to rant and rave and shout and scream in an appropriate, contained space - without projecting it on to other human beings.

In fact, I’m so good at it now that when I go into a full-on rant people who don’t know me say: “I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of you.” Until I tell them that there is no “wrong side” of me - that by doing this work in a safe space I will be less likely to be a scary mean bitch out in the world.

But I do know that maintaining a connection with anger allows me to use the energy in a constructive way and allows me access to my vitality, passion and creativity. For all those women (and some men) who were told it wasn’t nice to be angry, that good girls must be quiet, getting in touch with your rage can be amazingly liberating. Just make sure you do it in a way that is safe for you and for others, or you’ll scare them half to death…

I want to talk about books. Not just any old books - I mean the books that either sit on your shelves, unloved and unread, or the books that you keep for years after you’ve first read them, waiting to be called to them once more.

One of the books that had languished unread on my shelves for some time was Women Who Run With The Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. I bought it years ago when it was the tome du jour, but never felt sufficiently engaged to read it.

It was only when an acquaintance quoted a passage from the book which resonated with me that I remembered I had a yellowing copy at home and felt moved to start turning its pages. It’s quite a heavy read, so I must confess that I still haven’t finished it, but I love the fact that these volumes often wait patiently for you to be ready to receive their wisdom.

I was drawn back to another book this week - one that I first read probably 30 years ago, judging by the comments I had written in its margins. The Pregnant Virgin: a Process of Psychological Transformation, by Marion Woodman, is a slim but powerful volume inspired by Jungian psychology about the struggle to become conscious and our relationship with the inner virgin - forever open to new life, new possibilities, our unique truth.

It explores a process of change akin to the metamorphosis of a caterpillar into a butterfly, focusing on the periods in the chrysalis when life as we have known it is over and we are no longer who we were - but we don’t know who we may become.

Many passages have resonated with me in this book in terms of the current narrative I’m inhabiting but I’ll mention just one here: the concept of temenos. This is a Greek word meaning sacred space or precinct, which is used by Jungian analysts to represent the privacy of the relationship between analyst and analysand.

But there’s also an inner temenos - a safe, protected psychological space deep within us where soul-making takes place. It is this temenos that I’m being called to connect with at the moment.

As I go through that sometimes painful process, I find the words of Rainer Maria Rilke reassuring: “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given to you because you would not be able to live them. .. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”

According to Lao Tzu, the father of Taoism, a leader is best when people barely know he exists. When his work is done, his aim fulfilled, they will say: we did it all ourselves.

I resonate with this idea of collaborative leadership that empowers others. But I don’t expect old Lao Tzu would have imagined that his wisdom might also apply to women, who I believe are particularly skilled at bringing people together in this way.

This is leadership without ego, focusing on the power of the group rather than the individual. This is the kind of leadership we are sorely lacking in the world right now.

Last week I attended a workshop run by Nick Williams of Inspired Entrepreneur fame, entitled The Leader You Were Born To Be. As some of the other (mostly female) participants remarked, even a few months ago few of us would have attended a workshop about leadership. But there we were, considering the possibility that we might be leaders. Fancy that!

My one experience of leadership was in my early 30s, when I became the editor of a music magazine. While I had many valuable skills to bring to the job, I was ill-equipped to deal with the realities of management and found myself longing to be part of the team again. I felt isolated, was hopeless at delegating and carried far too heavy a weight on my shoulders. Unsurprisingly, I burnt out.

After that, I shied away from responsible jobs and hid in the background for many years. I believed I was a follower, and simply not cut out to be a leader.

As Nick pointed out in his talk, this hiding out can be false humility. We think that by showing up we’re going to be showing off. But if you’re already leading your own life, if you’ve already got some answers and experiences that might be of service to others, then it’s important for you to stand up and speak out.

It’s not about setting yourself up as an expert, as some grand figure with all the answers; it’s about encouraging others to follow their own wisdom and find their inner leader.

Perhaps the reason why there are so few great leaders in the world today is because we must all be leaders now. If we take the lead in our own lives by taking responsibility for ourselves, our emotions, our actions, then the ripple effect will be incredible.

I’m still exploring this idea of donning the invisible cloak of leadership, gently coaxing others to shine. Perhaps leaders were never meant to be followed.

Sometimes metaphors jump out at me. Often they come in the form of dreams, or in a turn of phrase; sometimes one can emerge from a comment overheard on a train. But my current favourite metaphor is appearing in the real world - first of all in the form of the Olympic Torch and its nightly ceremonies; then during the Diamond Jubilee - the lighting of the beacons.

I wrote about this in a previous post, inspired by my enduring attraction to the lighting of the beacons sequence in The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. 

In the film it seemed that all hope was lost, but then a hobbit manages to light the first beacon that leads to a string of beacons being lit across the mountains, resulting in the call for help being received and responded to by the King of Rohan.

These beacons had been in place for a long time but it took the actions of an ordinary and seemingly insignificant soul - inspired by an old wizard - to ignite them. As Gandalf proclaimed, “Hope is kindled.” And that’s how I feel today.

Because, thanks to the members of the amazing Inspired Entrepreneur community - my own fellowship - I feel that a group of ordinary souls can act to kindle hope in others.  And all thanks to our “old wizard”, Nick Williams, without whose gentle wisdom and inspiring leadership the beacons of hope may not have been kindled within us.

So now my metaphor is developing; each beacon allows another to ignite, calling the next to shine brightly in the midst of darkness. And thanks to the random wonder of the internet, I stumbled upon these words by Andy Goodacre, a chaplain in Tasmania, writing about the lighting of the beacons in the Lord of the Rings:

“For many of us, it can be hard to imagine what difference just a few of us building community together can really make it the world, even if we do manage to shine brightly before others.”

And he offers a quote from the Bible (Matthew 5:14-16), for which I’m grateful. I’m not a Christian, but I resonate with the wisdom:

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others.”

So perhaps the world is depending on all of us to answer our calling and allow our light to shine so that the next beacon can be kindled. I’ll just go and check with Gandalf…

As the sun rises at about 4.45am tomorrow morning, you may - if you have the correct eyewear and the sky is clear - witness a truly rare astronomical event. Only seven of these events have been recorded since the invention of the telescope, and they occur when Venus passes in front of the Sun, creating a dark spot that travels across the Sun’s surface.

These Venus transits come in pairs separated by eight years - the last one was in 2004 - and this will be the only opportunity to see this event in the lifetime of anyone currently alive on this planet, as the next one doesn’t happen until 2117.

So, as I was saying yesterday - here’s another once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But what does it all mean, if anything? I wrote in an earlier blog post about the symbolism of the Venus transit heralding return of the solar feminine - that aspect of feminine energy that is bold, creative and radiant. The solar feminine shines not just through the success and expression of women, but through the power of a man’s emotions received in his heart.

This idea points to the return of the Goddess - and I’ve seen some predictions that this heralds the fall of the patriarchy. What I’m reflecting on, however, is that it might have something to do with feminine power balancing the out-of-control masculine power on this planet. You could think of it as an inner reunion between the masculine and feminine elements of ourselves

It’s no coincidence that Queen Elizabeth II is celebrating her Diamond Jubilee at this time as she is the embodiment of enduring solar (regal) feminine power. But her power is of a different era and we need fresh, new feminine energy to come into play.

This means women everywhere taking responsibility and stepping into their power wherever and whenever they can, being authentic and speaking their truth. 

That’s the kind of feminism I can applaud: women clothed with the sun.

This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’ll never get a chance to see anything like this again. This is history in the making.

I’ve been hearing and reading comments like this quite a lot recently - about seeing the Olympic Torch, the London Olympics themselves, the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, and even the upcoming Venus transit (of which more tomorrow).

We truly are living in remarkable times, and the opportunity for us all is not just to witness history in the making but also make some for ourselves.

Apart from these huge events, which provide a platform for us all to come together with a common purpose and celebrate our humanity, I feel that a unique energy is building that will allow deep and lasting personal change to occur without individuals having to work at it for years.

I sense from friends, family, clients and colleagues that I’m not alone in feeling that 2012 is a momentous year, one in which people are starting to do what they really want to do and be who they are meant to be despite all the dire news about the world economy.

I know I can only speak for myself but my experience of this year, now that we are almost halfway through it, is one of really getting to grips with what I’m really here to be. And that process has involved periods of inspiration and activity followed by longer periods of reflection and readjustment.

I’m not saying there have been wrong turns, just that as I continue along my path, the direction I’ve taken has not necessarily been the one I mapped out when I took my first step.

When I qualified as a human potential coach, I thought that would be it: my purpose fulfilled. But I now realise that my story is bigger than that and incorporates everything I have learnt thus far, all the skills and experiences I have picked up along the way.

So I’m beginning to see that my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity is unfolding in ways I could never have anticipated. For a start, I always thought I’d be a writer, not a speaker but that perception is shifting. 

What is your own piece of history in the making? Your once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to show up in the world? Your chance to do something memorable? Whatever it is and wherever you are, now is the time to make it happen.

When I qualified as a human potential coach last year, I spent some time trying to focus on exactly what it was that I was offering to potential clients. I came up with various blurbs and explanations until I settled on one idea, which was actually based on a quote from Oprah Winfrey: turning wounds into wisdom.

To me this seemed to encapsulate what The Pearl Within is all about: delving deep into your most painful experiences to find buried treasure. But then I realised that in this context, wounds are really just stories we tell ourselves that still trigger an emotional response.

I’m now evolving a way of working with clients (and groups) that involves eliciting people’s stories and helping them understand that within these stories is the source of their greatest potential.

It’s a work-in-progress so I’m still conducting research and sourcing inspiration. And it was on one such search that I came across the book Living Proof: Telling Your Story to Make A Difference, by John Capecci and Timothy Cage.

This book is principally aimed at advocates for causes but contains plenty of useful information for anyone who wishes to explore their story. One simple exercise that attracted my attention is called My Six-Word Reason, which prompts you to sum up why you’re telling your story.

It could be a core belief, a particular experience, something that sums up a lifetime but it’s always a personal reason rather than a goal. For example, “I want to end world hunger” is a goal; “I’ve seen too many hungry children” is a personal reason

So yes, that got me thinking about why I want to help people turn wounds into wisdom. And I had only six words to play with. Here’s what I came up with:

I finally rewrote a painful story.
A new story set me free.
I was lost then found myself.
I saw too much silent suffering.
I lost Dad and found myself.
Because loss can transform into gain.
Because life isn’t all about pain.
Because pain can conceal great joy.
My pain became my greatest gain.

As I said, it’s a work in progress so I’ll carry on with that exercise until I come up with the six words that hit the nail on the head. If you fancy trying this exercise, generate as many six-word reasons as you like. It can help you claim an identity as an advocate within your own story.

So what are your six words?

Looking back, I realise that life is a big learning curve. I could have been the author of these words but no, they were written by my mother who, at 85, is a senior citizen in the true sense of senior - i.e. wise. 

She was writing in answer to the question: “What have you learnt during your life that you would like to pass on to a younger person?” which I posed to her a few weeks ago.

I first came across this question on the inspiring website The Legacy Project: Lessons for Living from the Wisest Americans, administered by Karl Pillemer, a professor at Cornell University, and wrote about it in a post called Why we must listen to the wisdom of elders. 

When she understood why I was asking her the question, Mum embraced the challenge. She continued:

Education is so important - enjoy being taught not only by your teachers but also your parents and older members of the family. Enhance your knowledge by reading as much as you can. 

Mum left school at 15 and, even though she had a limited formal education has never stopped being curious about the world. She can hold her own in a debate about current affairs, gave a speech last year about power and politics to a citizenship group at her local branch of the University of the Third Age, is an active member of a book club, and reads out and records the content of text books for visually impaired students at Swansea University.

To say I am proud of her is an understatement. I can only hope that I continue to have such a thirst for knowledge well into my 80s. Mum - and Dad when he was alive - instilled in me a love of learning that is one of my defining strengths. 

The events and happenings that occur at different times of your life mould your standards, values and strength of character. 

And this is another quality that I have inherited from Mum: resilience and the ability to withstand the challenges of life. 

Accept that you might make mistakes but it’s up to you to make things work out the way you want. It’s called accepting responsibility!

She has produced three children who have all taken on responsibility in their lives and dealt with it capably. 

Life will bring you much happiness but also great sadness as well - the latter emotion will mean heartbreak but this is when strength of character helps you deal with it.

I noticed she mentioned strength of character twice. Mum had to develop it after her mother died after developing a brain tumour at 51, then years later seeing her husband suffering a devastating stroke at the age of 46. That was the heartbreak for us all but she became the absolute rock of our family.

Remember the circle of life goes on…

Mum is nothing if not philosophical; she’s had to be. I’m grateful to her for sharing her wisdom, and for showing me the way to negotiate life. If I get to her age, I hope that my perspective will be as useful to others as hers has been to me. 

The narrative arc of a long life contains such valuable information: I can only reiterate my recommendation that anyone reading this asks their mother, father, grandparents, older family members the same question.

Listen to the wisdom of your elders; there be gold in those OAPs.