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What grew in the clearing
A year of growth, renewal and reconnection with the people and places that matter.
A year ago, on the eve of my 50th birthday, we were at Sherwood Pines tracking a hummingbird hawk-moth.
It was a rare sight then, and it had taken me 49 years and 364 days to see one. I remember the excitement of finding it, purely by coincidence, darting between the flowers, never staying still for long.
This year, apparently, they are everywhere. Hot weather on the continent has brought unusually large numbers to the UK - and I haven't seen a single one.
Perhaps there's something fitting about that. Because whilst I've missed the hummingbird hawk-moths, my 50th year has brought me so many things that I wasn't necessarily looking for.
It has been a year of many firsts.
My first white-tailed eagle soaring over a Scottish loch. My first proper glimpse of a pine marten emerging from the darkness of the forest to visit our cabin to eat peanuts. An unexpected common tern much closer to home. New places explored, new things learned, and countless moments when nature stopped me in my tracks.
But the most important firsts haven't all had wings, feathers or fur.
This has been a year of growth, renewal and reconnection.
As I move into my 51st year, I feel incredibly blessed and grateful. For many years, parts of my life were shaped by separation, loss, and feelings of inadequacy. Today, that feels very different.
I feel happy, content and hopeful.
And, perhaps most importantly, I feel that I belong.
What grows after an ending
My 50th year began not long after one of the most difficult chapters of my life had ended.
At the time, I couldn't have imagined quite how much could grow in the space it left behind.
A year later, what once felt traumatic is becoming a dim and distant memory. In its place, I have developed new skills, gained new qualifications, continued into postgraduate study, and built new friendships and professional connections.
I've retrained to do something I wholeheartedly believe in and, somewhere along the way, found the work I think that I was always meant to do.
For years, coaching was something I wanted to pursue, but the security of the 9-to-5 and a monthly salary made it difficult to imagine taking the leap. Redundancy eventually made that decision for me. It certainly wasn't the way I would have chosen for that chapter to end, but sometimes life creates a clearing before we are ready to step into it.
Now I'm building something meaningful that feels true to who I am and to the things I value.
I still get a real buzz when I coach. There is something wonderful about witnessing the moment when someone sees something differently - a lightbulb moment, a realisation, a possibility that they hadn't noticed before - and then they begin making the changes that will move them towards where they want to be.
As my 50th year drew to a close, I secured a long-term coaching client. I have a much clearer sense of the direction I want my business and my work to take, and a renewed determination to keep building it.
Even better, I get to weave into that work something that is an enormous part of me.
Nature.
The place where I can just be
Nature restores and replenishes me.
It gives me space to think clearly and time simply to be - without stress, busyness or demands.
There is magic in experiencing the changing seasons, wildlife and landscapes, never quite knowing what I might encounter from one day to the next. There is always an element of mystery and possibility.
Every day is a learning day.
A bird I've never seen before. An animal emerging unexpectedly from the darkness or the undergrowth. The churring of a nightjar somewhere amongst the trees, a woodcock meandering down the path in front of us seemingly oblivious to our presence, tiny fungus on the forest floor - or the sky itself suddenly coming alive with the dancing of aurora.
For me, nature is so much more than somewhere to escape to or a beautiful backdrop. It’s part of who I am.
I feel a physical pull to get outdoors, to immerse myself in my surroundings and lose myself for a while in their tranquillity.
Out there, I can simply be me.
There are no expectations and no deadlines, yet somehow that peace and space give me the energy I need to move forward in the ways that work for me.
Nature has become my partner, my encourager and my inspiration.
Over this past year, it has also helped me to understand something about belonging.
Putting down roots
This year hasn't only been about finding where I belong professionally.
It has also been about reconnecting.
Family relationships have deepened and grown in ways I couldn't have imagined a year ago. I've been reminded that belonging isn't about trying harder to fit in somewhere. It grows where we are accepted, valued and able to be ourselves.
And two little six-year-old boys have taught me more about that than they could ever realise.
Becoming part of my nephews' lives has been one of the greatest gifts of my 50th year. We've had adventures, laughter and conversations that only six-year-olds could initiate.
I've watched their curiosity, their openness and their bravery, and learned from the uncomplicated way that children can welcome someone into their world.
And then came two handwritten birthday cards along with a present they had chosen themselves.
Auntie.
They may seem like small things, but to me they represent something enormous.
Being thought about. Included. Chosen. Wanted.
Those cards are among the most precious things this year has given me and they stand proudly alongside the card from my grandchildren.
I've also learned that belonging doesn't require us to hold on to relationships or places that diminish or harm us. Sometimes growth means recognising what nourishes us, gently letting go of what doesn't, and putting our energy into the people and places where there is warmth, reciprocity and room to grow.
Perhaps that is why I enter my 51st year feeling more accepted, more able to be myself, and more complete than I have for a very long time.
What grew in the clearing
Looking back, my 50th year wasn't really about becoming someone new at all. It was about returning to myself.
It was about rediscovering the things that make me feel alive. Building work that reflects my values. Deepening connections with people that I love. Welcoming new people into my life. Spending time beneath trees and beside rivers. Learning, noticing, exploring and allowing myself to imagine possibilities for the future.
It has been about putting down roots in the places, relationships and work where I can grow as myself.
There are still uncertainties. Building a business takes time. I don't know exactly where this path will lead, but there is plenty that I still want to achieve.
But perhaps I don't need to know exactly what.
A year ago, I entered my 50th year chasing a hummingbird hawk-moth through Sherwood Pines.
This weekend, I'll be back amongst the trees of the forest as I begin my 51st.
Maybe finding another hummingbird hawk-moth can be my birthday challenge.
And if I don't find one? I suspect the forest will have something else waiting for me instead.
After all, if this year has taught me anything, it's that some of the most precious things in life are the ones we never saw coming.
If you're standing in a clearing of your own after an ending, a change, or simply wondering what you want to grow next - coaching can offer space to explore what comes next.
You're always welcome to get in touch for a conversation.
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