Immerse Yourself

With International Forest Bathing Day falling on 12 September, I thought I would explore this intriguing idea, which for many people has become a way to improve wellbeing.

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The expression “forest bathing” is memorable and striking, but could also be confusing. Not only is there no need to get wet, but you don’t even have to be in a forest. The expression is used to cover different ways of connecting with nature and the outdoors. Thinking about bathing, I think of words like cleansing, immersive and soaking. So maybe this is an opportunity to feel your mind “cleansed” as you “immerse” yourself in the natural world, and “soak in” the sights and sounds of a forest, a field or a single city tree. Unlike a shower, where the focus is on speed, bathing is more about slowing down and going deeper, absorbing: as is forest bathing as a form of nature connection.

And why forest bathing? Forests do have a particular place in popular imagination. They are hushed, places of stillness, a world of their own. They enfold you in their shade. So again there’s the idea of an immersive experience of nature – but as we know, that’s in no way limited to forests themselves. I used to walk regularly in a wood. There was a hush, a feeling of being enclosed, away from the open fields which surrounded the wood. Walking there regularly I got to see it in all different moods and times of year. But now that I live nowhere near a wood or forest, I still immerse myself in nature all the time.

Founded two years ago, the Forest Bathing Institute is working to develop forest bathing in the UK: running forest bathing gatherings at places like Leith Hill, Kew Gardens and the RSPB Sandy reserve, and training people to become forest bathing guides themselves. Another important aspect of their work is cooperating with six UK universities on research into the impact of forest bathing. Lived experience and testimonials can be powerful, but assessment, monitoring of measurable impacts, is needed if forest bathing is to gain the recognition and funds it deserves. To this end, the UK’s first peer-reviewed research paper into forest bathing’s health benefits has recently been published. It reveals clear impacts on mood, emotions and also heart rate.

And forest bathing is growing rapidly. Organisations like the National Trust & Forestry England promote and explore forest bathing. Many Forest School programmes in different locations draw on forest bathing. With forest bathing videos on You Tube, you don’t even have to be in nature – instead you can try immersing yourself in the natural world from your desk or chair.

The more forest bathing grows and the more research is done, the more questions will be answered. I wonder if people who live in urban areas benefit most from forest bathing, as a welcome contrast to their everyday? I wonder if forest and woodland will be proven to have a stronger impact than other natural settings?

Thinking of forest bathing reminded me of the Whipsnade Tree Cathedral in Bedfordshire: trees planted to form the shape of a built Christian cathedral. As in a built cathedral, this becomes a reflective, contemplative space, somewhere to think what matters.

Do you have any experiences of forest bathing to share, or thoughts or questions? It would be great if you’d like to share in Medley’s Facebook group Thank you https://www.facebook.com/groups/359291215486002

Going Wild

People all turn to nature in different ways and will respond differently. But one common thread running through nature’s impact on wellbeing is the otherness of nature – how it becomes an opportunity to stand back from our own experiences, thoughts and needs, and to see differently.

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My last nature-themed blog post focused on a particular book as a way of going on connecting with nature during winter. That was about travel to Antarctica – the first book I’mm thinking about today is on whales. It is Philip Hoare’s “Leviathan or, The Whale”. It’s got me thinking how immersing yourself in the life of another species can be a way to absorb your mind and to gain a new perspective.

Nature moves at a slower pace, and other species’ lives may seem simpler than our own, but they can be far more complex than we think or know. Philip Hoare calls whales far more ‘other’ than any other species, because of their vast size and scale. Whale watching he finds awe-inspiring, envying the whales’ freedom and ocean life. Later he dives and swims with whales, an experience which transfixes him. The book also explores the dark side of human interaction with whales in the long history of whaling, and Herman Melville’s classic novel Moby Dick os integral to Hoare’s writing.

Clearly it is true, as Philip Hoare says, that the whale is in a class all its own. But few of us will ever see or swim with whales in the wild. Encounters with more local species may be less dramatic but still have a strong impact on us, as we glimpse what it is to be another creature Megafauna may mystify and excite us, but so can all wildlife.

In his book Beauty and The Beast, Hugh Warwick met about a dozen people who have all become closely connected with one particular wildlife species. Some are scientists, others enthusiasts, even obsessives. All spend considerable time searching out “their” species to learn, observe and understand. Some species, like sparrows and robins, were easier to find; others, like otters, bats and moths, required patience, dedication and good weather. Several of the people shared how “their” species gave a sense of purpose to their lives and helped them through struggles and difficult times of their own.

Maybe it’s this focus on a particular species which is important. That way you can delve deeper, learn more, maybe record what you see for a body like the UK Biological Records Centre. A deeper awareness would help you immerse yourself in that species’ wider habitat and see how it interacts with other species. Think of one species you might try to observe more closely, maybe a local species you can find easily, or maybe a far away species you might never see in the wild. Technology has brought wildlife far closer to us. Thinking of whales, try listening to whale song today, or search online for underwater photos of whales. Sound and image too open up new worlds to enhance our lives.

Empathy, awe and wonder – or simply living in the moment as a bird takes off in flight, or a dragonfly hovers. Seeing life through another species’ eyes – which species will you focus on? It would be great to hear any responses in Medley’s Facebook group https://www.facebook.com/groups/359291215486002 Thank you!

Think Art

As I think about how art can help mental health and wellbeing, two distinct ways emerge. One way sees creativity as a positive to focus on, as refuge or haven, space away from the everyday and from specific issues. The other uses creativity directly to address and work through those issues, to express thoughts, feelings, emotions or trauma. Which is more beneficial? Is expressing specific responses more helpful? Or can art as refuge prove equally therapeutic in the long run?

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Tool or refuge, art’s impact can be striking, which is why I’ve just set up a new online group, Think Art, where people can experiment with art and craft and explore how it might help mental health. It’s a Facebook group, simply because they are familiar and flexible, and people can join and share. While recognizing that not everyone likes Facebook, I don’t know of any other truly comparable group spaces.

I hope that this new group will attract people totally new to art, as well as those who have drawn or painted for years, or indeed who work in art therapy or arts for wellbeing. With those new to art and craft, it might just open a door to new opportunities and ways of boosting wellbeing.

Within each of the two “pathways”, if you like, there are obviously so many different ideas and possibilities. Using art as refuge, you might enjoy painting or drawing from nature, an opportunity to connect also to the natural world which is known to calm and ground many people. Or you might enjoy creating patterns, crafting, colouring or upcycling, losing yourself in endless possibilities. Using art as tool, you might use colours to express emotions. You might use journaling, like bullet journaling which many now find useful for mental health and which can feature art as people illustrate their journals. Or maybe you have a mental picture of your fears or depression – maybe clear, maybe vague – which it could be helpful to draw out and work with. Art can become a language to express what we might struggle to say in words.

Maybe combining the two is the most helpful. People may find they turn to different ways at different times. When art has such power to help, why limit yourself to one way or the other? See art as experiment.

When I was ill with anxiety some years ago, my concentration and focus just drained away – and this can really hinder people turning to art. If you can’t concentrate on anything other than the issues you’re struggling with, then using art directly to express those issues might be more viale and also more constructive.

Nevertheless, focusing on these issues can be triggering in itself – for example, some people might find that bullet journaling only makes them dwell more on their feelings so that they feel all the more overwhelmed. For others, expressing emotions they may have struggled with or suppressed for years could be liberating, when ignoring them would have left them lingering in the shadows. But it could also require support, maybe through specific art therapy.

So much depends on the causes – a present situation, memories of trauma, or less specific sadness or fear.

It would be great if you’d like to join the new Think Art group – https://www.facebook.com/groups/244072321150998 – and tell others about it, and experiment with creativity to explore these questions and more. Thank you.

Light And Shade

The more I share and learn and experiment with art for wellbeing, the more different impacts I see and experience. Art can be therapy for all different issues, some long-running or severe, others more everyday.

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Many of us struggle with the long hours of darkness in early and mid winter, the days when it barely seems to come light at all only to fade to dusk again so soon. Cloudy and overcast weather, rain and storms make this even worse. If snow falls and settles, what always strikes me is the monochrome of a snowy scene, all white and somehow oppressive. When snow finally clears and retreats, it’s great to see once again the different shades of grass, trees, roads. But even with no snow, winter views can look so lifeless and colourless.

Art and craft are all the more beneficial at this time, in different ways. They shine light and colour into our lives when we most need them. Painting or drawing using bright colours is so welcome on a dark day. Crafting using varied, colourful fabrics or other materials is another mental stimulus. Some people make and decorate colourful candles or lanterns in winter, lighting the darkness. Moreover, most of us have to spend more time inside in winter, when it is too dark or cold to linger outdoors. If people find time drags, then creative “pastimes” like art and craft could help give purpose and focus. The more we surround ourselves with light and colour, the more we find a refuge from the shadows of winter.

Colour theory explores how and why we respond to and use colours in particular ways, and highlights the importance of colour to lift mood or to express ourselves. I hope to look at this specifically in a future blog post. Winter may be the time when colour has the most impact on us.

Christmas itself is traditionally a time when many people enjoy creativity. Making cards, decorating trees, making a Nativity scene or an Advent calendar…Even gift wrapping presents can become an artform as people use their imagination to wrap with different papers, maybe printing their own patterned papers or using tissue paper, ribbons and tags. All these can be mindful activities, absorbing people’s thoughts to focus on creativity. Gathering found material outside, maybe holly or ivy, then crafting them into a wreath and decorating it with ribbons or other embellishments can be a way to connect with nature, further helping wellbeing. It’s also a way that people have traditionally brought nature indoors in winter, with fir trees and arrangements of foliage or cones or poinsettia plants linking us to the outdoors.

Some people feel that boosting wellbeing through art or other activities is only a distraction, doing little to work through the causes of mental health issues or low mood. This may depend on those causes, but even in that way it can help as a haven and refuge, an opportunity to recharge by focusing on something positive. In the long run, it can address the root causes as well, and used as a form of therapy, it can allow self-expression. Art’s impact is as diverse as the needs and issues we all have.

O Come All Ye Faithful

For me, as for so many people, Christmas comes with a soundtrack – not a playlist, because it’s more about what we all hear at this time of year. There are carols, sung in church or around a tree or heard on the radio. Then there are Christmas songs, old and new. Some people think they’re played too early each year. Obviously I like some more than others, but they brighten the dark, cold days of early winter – as do the light shows and festive lights in homes and gardens which have become so popular.

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Thinking about music for wellbeing, it’s as a unifying force that music can come into its own – a shared experience, shared creativity. Christmas is the only time in the year when many people come together with others to share in singing – in church or at an outdoor event. The novelty of this communal music-making helps make carols all the more memorable and powerful for people. Others might find themselves singing along to carols or songs on the radio, on TV or online, particularly as Covid 19 is still overshadowing gatherings. Still others sing regularly in choirs or singing groups, many because they find it helps their mood and wellbeing, and Christmas music will be integral to their repertoire. Either way, carols and songs become and remain a shared, common heritage.

Like most music, carols can conjure all different moods. They can be joyful, hopeful, celebratory, plaintive or wistful. They might be lively with a strong beat, sung by a crowd, or they might have the most impact heard sung by a cathedral choir. They’re traditionally sung by candlelight, maybe followed by mulled wine or mince pies – sights, sounds and tastes which brighten Christmas. And they sing of faith and hope, of God’s presence in the Nativity which Christmas is all about.

They’ve stood the test of time too – I learned the other day that it was St Francis of Assisi who introduced community carol singing. He alsco created the very first public nativity scene.

Another aspect to explore here is how many people struggle with Christmas, in all different ways, as issues they live with throughout the year come to a head – maybe depression, loneliness or family conflict. There’s immense pressure on people to have a wonderful time, and it’s simply unlikely to be like that for many. And music and song can themselves contribute to this. Song lyrics idealize Christmas as an endless part, bathing us all in a warm glow – but making many people feel sidelined and left out. Moreover, music is so closely linked to memory that carols and songs can revive memories very strongly, which could be bittersweet, only exacerbating sadness at this time of the year.

But music and song could also be one part of Christmas which people might still respond to, even if they find this a difficult time. Carols and songs lift mood, sometimes at the most unexpected moments. And for people with dementia, for whom music is so helpful, carols could be the best way to draw them in to the festivities.

Whether people long for Christmas or dread it, carols can transport us to a different place, lifting Christmas to another level, infusing an element of wonder.

It would be great to hear any responses in Medley’s Facebook group https://www.facebook.com/groups/359291215486002 Thank you!

Freedom Far Away

As winter sets in, it’s easy to feel less connected to nature – as going outside is cold and sometimes impractical, and even if you do venture out the countryside looks bare and lifeless. Turning instead to books about nature or about travelling in the great outdoors is a great way to immerse yourself in nature while indoors more.

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One book I’ve read a couple of times, which brought far flung nature alive for me, is “Terra Incognita: Travels In Antarctica” by Sara Wheeler. Not only does it reveal what this little-known continent is really like, but it also explores the impact of Antarctica and of nature on the author’s mood, emotions and wellbeing. On the very first page she introduces themes of freedom and belonging. For Sara, Antarctica combines the two: it is at once a refuge from commitment and a place to feel at home. She returns to this sense of escape and of contentment throughout the book.

Central to Sara’s response to Antarctica is the different perspective it opens up for her, on life and the wider world. Time and space seem different there, amid vast untouched ice. This eases the fears and depression which has hovered around her for a long time. Her own preoccupations seem less important as Antarctica’s landscape absorbs her mind, refocusing her away from the world’s troubles. In Antarctica she feels her despair recede.

Her time there also renews her faith, as she feels a certainty in God, and a sense of harmony as never before.

She quotes other travellers, some who knew Antarctica, and others who traversed different parts of the world, like Wilfrid Thesiger, who found what he was seeking in desert lands, and nowhere else. And as her time on the ice draws to a close, Sara begins to wonder what will happen when she has to leave and return to her old way of life. Will the old struggles return? Will life even seem more of astruggle than before?

So this is a book to read on different levels. Although from the UK, Sara travelled to Antarctica as part of the American National Science Foundation’s Antarctica Artists’ and Writers’ Programme. She spent almost a year there, staying on different bases with different hosts. Sara writes about cold and ice, about flying on small resupply planes, about penguins and blizzards, about sleeping in an igloo. She shares the beauty of Antarctica’s sunsets and glaciers and the southern lights, but also shares how people experience sensory deprivation on Antarctica, so that returning home they are struck by colours and smells.

At one point Sara discusses why she found being in Antarctica different to time spent in nature in other places. It was the vast scale of the continent that gave her this new perspective, this certainty, this freedom from the fears that plagued her. It enabled her to “believe in paradise”.

This is a book about a remote land, but it illustrates how nature can transform our inner journeys as well. Do you have any responses to share, or would you like to recommend a nature or travel book? It would be great to hear any responses in Medley’s Facebook group https://www.facebook.com/groups/359291215486002 Thank you!

Colour And Line

I wonder what first springs to mind when you think about abstract art? For me, it would be Mondrian’s clear, ordered colour grids. But this “geometric” style is only one side of abstract art. Other, non-geometric abstraction covers diverse styles, from Pollock’s drip paintings to the work of Barnett Newman, Jasper Johns or Robert Delaunay. And obviously abstract art is still emerging in the present day.

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The main question I’m exploring here is how abstract art could prove particularly mindful and boost mental wellbeing. Time and again, people experiencing mental health issues say they feel stuck, trapped, mired, overwhelmed by obsessive & intrusive thoughts or by fear or loneliness. This can span different mental health conditions, from OCD to depression, agoraphobia to anxiety. Abstract art grew up as a movement for change, and can be seen as deeply freeing and liberating. Unlike figurative art, which focuses on representing the world around us, abstract art casts aside limits. By reducing – or changing – its focus to colour and line, abstract art is all about experimenting and exploring. So I wonder if looking at abstract art, or trying abstract art yourself, could be helpful for people, opening up new and freer ways of thinking and being.

Maybe experimenting with abstraction for yourself could lift mood and wellbeing. Trying a drip painting or drawing a colour grid could become mindfulness in action. Clearing the mind by setting aside representation could be helpful and positive, for example playing around with colours to express mood.

Moreover, as it is non-representational, abstract art is further removed from everyday life and the world at large. So while all art can be a haven and a refufe away from whatever issues people may have in their lives at the time, maybe abstract art can be a particular refuge. Interacting with colour and line, not with figures or scenes, there may be less likelihood of triggering.

But abstract art as a movement developed its roots firmly in lived experience. While it truly is aout colour and line, on another level many abstract artworks explore actual themes like exile, war and conflict. Abstract art grew and expanded during the 1940s, particularly amidst refugees who’d left Europe for the USA.

Maybe it’s also important to look at abstraction’s first beginnings: gradually developing from other movements like Post-Impressionism, Fauvism and Cubism. Little by little it became ever more experimental and less conventional. Was this a longing for freedom and self-expression? Was it rebellion, or a need to find new art forms?

In some ways Abstract Expressionism was itself used to focus thought and enotion. Barnett Newman and Mark Rothko used colour planes to encourage viewers to think deeply about their own emotional response to particular colours. So abstract art is not about shutting out thought: by eliminating the figurative, maybe it draws on mood all the more.

Try looking at a Rothko or Newman painting, or try your own drip painting or colour patterns – and think what impact it has on you. It would be great to hear any responses in Medley’s Facebook group https://www.facebook.com/groups/359291215486002 Thank you!

Mirroring My Mind

When music can creare and convey a mood with just a few beats, it’s no wonder that emotions and music & song are deeply interwoven on different levels. And this throws up many questions, exploring how and why music mirrors what we think and feel – or do we mirror the music?

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One way music truly mirrors our minds is in its diversity and its power to change in a moment. Just as music can suddenly turn from joy to pain, from darkness to light, so too can our moods and emotions. Music might do this by drawing on different instruments, a new beat, rhythm or time signature. Our mood can be changed by a thought, a memory, a sudden sight or experience – or a sound, a song or piece of music. You might feel down or simply tired, only to hear a familiar, lively song with a strong beat, and feel renewed. So not only does music’s own variability reflect our own unsettled emotions, but it can also spark them.

Maybe here it is also important to remember that the emotions music awakens in us can be negative and painful, not just positive. This might be because it’s linked to difficult memories or regrets, maybe a song you heard at a painful time. It might be because song lyrics remind you of issues you too are enduring. Or it might be that the music’s sheer beauty is just too poignant, too bittersweet. Music can make us think, and feel, too deeply.

Thought is integral to music’s impact and to the questions I’m exploring. Do we want music to stimulate thought, to help us think more deeply? Or do we want music and song more as an escape, as a refuge, a haven? Is it a way to shut out unwelcome thoughts, to quieten our minds so that music is all, for a time anyway?

This could be helpful for peple struggling with the kind of intrusive thoughts experienced by many with OCD – or for many other people who long to set aside thought for a while and simply be.

One question leads on to another. Is this true of instrumental music more than songs? If people want to shut out thoughts, is it easier to do that with instrumental music, when music becomes another language with no words to disturb us? Or do song lyrics actually help by replacing our own thoughts with someone else’s words?

Maybe a lot depends on the actual issues. So many songs focus on love and relationships. They might seem to express just what you yourself are feeling, so you feel less alone. Or they might be a world away from your own fears or experiences.

Music can also help some people express emotions – by freeing emotions which they were bottling up, which could be traumatic but also maybe liberating. Again, can instrumental music be more helpful here? When there are no words to limit our minds to one theme, we may be more free to interpret music to fit our own mood.

I would really like to hear your thoughts on any or all of these questions. It would be great if you would like to share in Medley’s Facebook group https://www.facebook.com/groups/359291215486002 Thank you!

Living Memory

Why might trees have a particular part to play in remembrance? How and why do they help us commemorate? With Remembrance Day here once again, a striking example of trees used to commemorate war came to my mind.

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A while ago I heard about trees planted as a memorial to the World War One Battle of Vimy Ridge. On the battle site is a 100 hectare park planted with a forest. In that forest are some 60,000 trees, each one planted to commemorate one of the 60,000 Canadian troops who died there in 1917. The forest was planted by the French nation as a gift to the people of Canada, a tribute to this horrendous loss of life. Walking through that forest must be a powerful and dramatic experience. Underlining the sheer scale of the death toll from that one battle alone.

The First World War and other wars have long been commemorated by many different kinds of memorials across different countries, mostly built or sculpted monuments, maybe in stone, brick, granite or marble. They may be inscribed with the names of the fallen, or take the form of statues. There are also cemeteries with serried ranks of crosses and headstones. So a forest could be just another form of memorial, but it has an impact all its own.

Trees grow and live. They have come to represent endurance and longevity. They are part of nature’s seemingly endless cycle of life and of renewal. On deciduous trees, new leaves form in spring, only later to tint and fall, only for new buds to form and open once again. Evergreen trees themselves represent durability and endless growth. So trees form a living and ever-changing memorial. In this way they link past and future differently than would a stone monument or a memorial window. Back to the cedars of Lebanon in the Bible, trees seem a symbol of solidity and strength, as they stand sentinel and command the view.

In no way is war the only occasion for trees to be planted as a form of remembrance. They may also be planted by bereaved families, friends or communities to commemorate lost loved ones. This might be on a large or small scale. The UK’s National Memorial Arboretum in Staffordshire has become an important place to remember those who have gone before. But many people might simply plant one sapling in a garden, churchyard, park or other open space as a private act of remembrance, a way to mark a loved one’s life. Or they might dedicate a tree in a nature reserve woodland or forest to their memory. Trees’ use in this way highlights how significant are place, landscape and nature in our experience.

Trees grow in the present, and as they do so they draw on the past (on soil and on roots laid down over years) and reach ahead to the future (as they grow and seed). Maybe this is partly why they fit as memorials? And supporting as they do many other species of life forms, from insects to birds, they are themselves havens of life.

It would be great if you’d like to share thoughts on trees as memorials in Medley’s Facebook group https://www.facebook.com/groups/359291215486002 Thank you!

Creative Climate

Hitting the headlines this fortnight is the COP26 climate summit in Glasgow, as negotiators and world leaders discuss and map our possible routes to net zero carbon. It all comes down to commitments, finance, deals and agreements. But it all stems from the pace of change across the world, and the future of many different ecosystems, habitats and environments. Art can remind us of all this. How so, you might ask?

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One artist who highlights climate change’s realities on the ground is Zaria Forman. From her home in the USA, she travels the world to capture some of the impacts of climate change in large-scale pastel drawings or paintings. To reach remote places, she sometimes takes part in expeditions or missions led by major organisations. These range from a residency on National Geographic’s Explorer (to experience winter in Antarctica) to flying with NASA’s Operation Ice Bridge over Greenland and Arctic Canada.

It’s no wonder that Zaria’s travels have focused partly on polar regions, as the Arctic and Antarctic are parts of the world where climate change may be seen most starkly. She has produced and exhibited colourful pastels of Antarctica’s ice, recreating what for most of us can be only a land of the imagination. Other locations for her work also find themselves at the epicentre of global warming – Greenland, where the ice cap is retreating and melting, and Svalbard, a remote archipelago within the Arctic Circle. It was Zaria’s pastels of ice in Antarctica and Greenland which really struck me for the way they convey the scale and the otherness of such landscapes. However, she has also travelled to warmer climes to draw different impacts, like the Maldives, where sea level is the main concern.

Other artists have also developed responses to the climate and nature emergency. One is Gennadiy Ivanov, who lives in Norwich. 2019 saw him travel to boreal forests and mountains in Canada with climate scientists from UEA. This was an opportunity to take part in a climate research project and to explore threatened nature in these settings. Nor was it focused solely on Canada, but also explored Norfolk’s own issues of coastal erosion. The project’s title “Transitions:Ice-Water-Cloud” highlights its main themes.

These two artists have travelled to specific, extreme environments where climate change may be more rapid and more obvious. By collaborating with scientists they have seized rare opportunities to experience and share in research from the inside. But any person in any country could use a pencil, paintbrush or needle to explore the climate and nature emergency from home. This could be by painting an actual or imagined lanscape; by drawing or crafting images of wildlife to mark species loss; or by painting or drawing an abstract picture to explore feelings and emotions about the emergency, maybe using colour bands or shapes. Photography can be another medium to use. All different media and styles can play a part.

Art like this becomes a tool for action and for awareness. Art can help us see nature’s beauty with new eyes, and can also highlight how threatened that beauty may be, and how threatened may be the future of all who or which depend on it.

It would be great if you’d like to share any responses to this – or any green-themed artwork of your own! – in Medley’s Facebook group https://www.facebook.com/groups/359291215486002 Thank you!

Off The Scale

Last Monday was World Opera Day, so I’m writing here about opera – another in my occasional series of posts highlighting particular music genres and how they might boost wellbeing in different ways. I’ve already considered musicals, ballet, folk and jazz – now it’s opera’s turn.

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Opera is high drama. Costumes, sets and lighting all build atmosphere, and the singing & plot transport this to another level. Most operas run through diverse emotions, from despair to hope, joy to horror, rage to exhilaration. There are few half measures in opera, it’s all about extremes.

Maybe this is one way opera might help wellbeing – by exploring mood and emotion and raising them to be the focus of performance. There’s no question of reining in emotion, of the stiff upper lip or of bottling up your feelings. Emotions in opera can be off the scale. This might be liberating to watch, to hear or to perform: an opportunity to open up as you respond. You could try this and see – search opera on You Tube maybe, and see how watching and listening make you feel. Obviously opera’s impact will depend on the opera, the hearer and the time – as our moods alter, we might respond to an opera differently from one time to another.

Opera could also be an escape, time out from the everyday in a very different setting. While new operas go on being written, many of the most famous have stood the test of time and now present to us an unfamiliar world. They are also set in different countries and sung in different languages. And opera is all about contrasts: tragedy vs. comedy, fantasy vs. reality, solos vs. chorus.

Like ballet and musical theatre, opera combines music with plot, drama and visual stimulus, so its multi-sensory, which can help wellbeing. This is particularly true for people who have autism or SEN.

Opera is a crowd or group art form. Composer and writer work together on the score and libretto, before many more people contribute to the final production and to each performance. And if you attend a performance in person, you experience opera alongside others as part of an audience. The way so many people missed the audience experience when theatres were closed during the pandemic illustrates just how important it is for many to feel united with others as they share a performance.

To some people, opera’s links with wealth, and the glamour and fame o great opera houses and opera singers, make it all the more of an escape from the everyday. For others, it might make opera seem too exclusive, a closed world. Only recently have live streamings widened opportunities to attend opera. Another possible barrier could be that some of us find operas too long. Sitting through an opera might improve concentration an dfocus in the long run, but it first requires patience.

A final thought – there’s also operetta or light opera, more comic and maybe less intense. This is also an escape or refuge for people and a chance to unwind. Laughter can be the best medicine as they say.

It would be great if you would like to share any thoughts on opera and wellbeing in Medley’s Facebook group https://www.facebook.com/groups/359291215486002 Thank you!