In ancient times in places as far apart as Egypt and India, our ancestors lived with the concept of eternal return. Their belief; the universe recurs, and will continue to recur across infinite time and space. And as a result, time is cyclical and recurring.
Even today, in many religions such as Buddhism, Hinduism and Sikhism, the concept of a cyclical pattern is inherent. The wheel of life represents an endless cycle of birth, life and death. We live to die. And eventually, by living a good life, Nirvana or nothingness can be achieved.
And the system of groundhog day daily life, a system of returning repeatedly, is something we all experience, sometimes without realising.
We return to work and we return from work. We return to friends, family, pets. We return to our home. And hopefully to our real selves in our private spaces. Some of our returns are more significant than others. Returning to a friendship, not lost, just dormant and re-found. Returning to a trusted brand for mortgages, insurances or cars. Even returning home after a disagreement.
How many returns do you make today or this week? Daily occurances demonstrating that linear time is not the only time we move to. 
How many of us really embody daily change and difference in our busy lives? How exhausting would this be?! And in recognising that many of our actions and decisions are more habitual than conscious, does this awareness change our behaviour?
Being sick, means my habitual returns are broken and new ones form. There are returns which are firsts so they take on a significant hue; the return home to Roscoe from the hospital, the return to eating ordinary food, to talking so most understand, to walking more than 100 metres without becoming exhausted. Then there are the returns which are more habitual; dressing myself, washing my hair, driving, doing the school run, shouting at my boys for leaving trails of dirt, grime and mess behind them.
And then there is the return to work. And even going in for my first half day last week knocks me sideways. Returning to using my brain in a certain way, to maintaining a professional image, to being alert for all communication – it’s exhausting.
With this return to work, I find myself excited, scared, inquisitive, curious. How can I…? How will I…? How much do I…? It’s true, I now manage a large amount of ambiguity, in terms of self, of work and the finite amount of energy that I have. 
I must trust that time is not linear, it is cyclical. That I was, I am, I will be, great again.
And then a conversation provides a breakthrough. My worth and value is not measured in what I do, defined by quantity and physical doing , it’s measured by how I enable. I am returning to being a catalyst, a mentor, a coach, a leader. I am returning to being my whole self.
We all return, eventually. Let’s be aware and grateful of the habitual and revived returns we make in this life. And if they don’t fit, or serve a purpose, let us change.
After all, we may have many lives ahead of us to reap the rewards of the life we live today.
is very active and each year the Haggis, the cheese, the shortbread, the Piper and sometimes even the Scottish Country Dancers are flown in! Aside from St Andrews Day itself, Burns night is an excuse for us Scots to throw a party, drink up a storm and practice our eightsome reels. A guaranteed night of revelry in the Sheraton hotel in Kampala. And our Ugandan friends and colleagues turn up, enjoy our food, drink malt whisky with gusto and take to the floor to add some spice and rhythm to the dancing. These are treasured memories; every nationality, wholeheartedly participates and celebrates the life of Robert Burns.
Born on January 25, 1759, much has already been written about the life of
I can say it has no particular points of note apart from this is where you go to catch a ferry to the beautiful isle of Arran. And Saltcoats has a pebble beach, unlike the tiny speck of sandy beach by the Pencil in
Largs remains one of my favourite places in Ayrshire.
Equally I love listening to friends who have stories which belong in soaps, comedies or drama series – their lives are full of adventures and tales and experiences. Others are happy to be silly with me, throwing themselves with gusto into whatever is going on – whether its Cards against Humanity or pinging themselves off the sides of mountains as we attempt to ski after nice long and quite liquid lunches and/or apres ski.
For those who let me gatecrash their short, time-bound Christmas celebrations, when I’m straight out of hospital, with such grace and love and the others who come to the house that evening to hang out, cook and clean, watch bad movies and help me feel human again.
For the exclusive home-made sloe gin which nearly causes me to fall over after one small glass.
Frankly, a few weeks ago I could not answer these questions myself. But one of the many things I am learning throughout this process is the importance of the mouth in the enjoyment of food.
I feel each one, taking note of the rich red of the tomatoes, the different greens of the apple, celery, cucumber, then there is the orange of the carrot, the yellow of the pepper. I look at the pots of yogurt and humus, I smell everything before putting it back down. I shut my eyes. This is a visualisation game. On my own. No Kim Basinger or Christian Grey involved. The purpose is to kick-start my recall. How to eat different foods with different textures, smells and tastes when half my tongue is gone. And I practice. Through touch and smell I can accurately guess what I have to eat before it goes in my mouth. But, when it gets in there, habit takes over and I chew and swallow quickly, anticipating the next mouthful. I have to stop. To remind myself of the purpose of this exercise.
The answers vary and some are hilarious. Many are similar to me. In a resting state their tongue sits at the roof of the mouth. Others find their tongue rests on the floor of the mouth. Some talk of pooling their food, rolling it around, others discuss the importance of saliva, one talks about the tongue working like a wave rolling the food onto the teeth to chew before pooling it back together and sending it back to the back of the throat for the swallow reflex to take over.
This is the time of year when people think about new starts and new beginnings. This is often accompanied by a raft of New Year resolutions, a burst of good intentions, and then the reality of life slides in and in most cases the good intentions melt away. So how can we make these desired changes stick? What do we need to do differently to make a difference?
Is it because we really want to change or is it some societal, cultural or social expectation that causes us to think we need to change? If it’s the latter then its likely that the wish to change is not in the right place and so it’s best to leave any big resolution to later. This relates to knowing if the driver of change is to do with time (e.g. if I don’t do this now I never will). Can the planned change wait for a more opportune moment? If the answer to this is yes, then wait. However if the need is pressing and the desire is strong, this is a good time to think about the changes you want to make.
Knowing why you want to change is important and this will strengthen resolve on those days where you are feeling tired, fed up or weak. Is your driver towards a need for something better or is it a move away from something not so good. Does your need for change relate to money, status, progression, greater autonomy or freedom, wellbeing, health or another cause?
If you can frame your resolution as an outcome, you have a better chance at sticking with it. Try and make it as clear as possible. Close your eyes, imagine you have achieved your resolution. How do you feel; what do you see; what can you hear; what are you touching, tasting, and looking at?
I am focused on how I will make the small steps to help make my resolution achievable. The actions, I will take are specific, achievable and measurable. They are also time bound and realistic. In other words they are SMART.