Introducing The Guardian’s Video on Loneliness
Loneliness is an experience that touches many of us, often more quietly than we realise. The Guardian has created a thoughtful video exploring what loneliness can feel like, why it affects so many people, and how easily it can deepen when life becomes restricted — as it did for so many during lockdown.
For those who live alone, the absence of everyday contact can become especially stark. Moments when others gather with loved ones can unintentionally highlight the gaps in our own connections, and lockdown magnified this in ways we’re still coming to understand.
This video offers insight, compassion and a reminder that loneliness is not a personal failing, but a human experience — one that deserves to be acknowledged and spoken about.
I invite you to watch it with gentleness and curiosity. It may resonate more than you expect.
Gender Diverse Children: Reflections on Identity and Assumptions
In a recent Guardian article about transgender children, one paragraph stood out powerfully for me:
“And the penny dropped. My son, in his distress, helped me realise that there is something even worse than being abused in the street, and that’s being told by strangers you’re not who you know you are—that the truth of you is not acceptable, so if you want to be safe, be normal, please.”
Those words resonated deeply.
Growing up, I was constantly told—by strangers and even by members of my own family—that I was gay. I tried everything I could to shield myself from the taunts and the casual, everyday cruelty. The impact was profound: years of shame, self-doubt and depression that lingered through half my life.
To hear parents today speak openly about their children’s identities, and to see national newspapers challenging long-held assumptions about gender, feels extraordinary. The cultural landscape is shifting. Conversations once whispered—or avoided entirely—are now taking place in the public sphere with increasing openness and nuance.
And in this changed climate, I find myself in a new position. Instead of shrinking away from other people’s assumptions, I’m now gently correcting them. I have the language and clarity I didn’t have as a young person. I can explain who I am without apology.
This moment—both personally and socially—feels important. It’s a reminder of how vital it is to listen to people when they tell us who they are, and how damaging it can be when we insist they fit into categories that never belonged to them.
"It’s easy to stand in the crowd but it takes courage to stand alone."
Mahatma Gandhi
June 23rd
9 minute video on BBC2 Like Minds describing new thoughts on Grief and Bereavement. YouTube
Are We Living Through a Crisis of Touch?
A recent article in The Guardian asks whether we are experiencing a “crisis of touch.” It reflects on how hugs, strokes and everyday gestures of warmth are slowly disappearing from our lives. Increasingly, doctors, teachers, colleagues—and many of us in daily life—are cautious about physical contact. But is this heightened sensitivity actually starting to affect our mental and emotional wellbeing?
Sharing that article made me think more deeply about hugging.
I enjoy giving hugs, and I enjoy receiving them. Yet I also value choice: when a hug happens, and who it happens with. Some days a hug feels welcome; other days it doesn’t. Declining one can feel delicate—the other person might feel rejected, and that can shape future interactions in ways we didn’t intend.
My relationship with hugging was shaped during my time living in the Findhorn Community in Scotland, where hugging is almost woven into the culture. It was natural and effortless there. Everyone greeted each other warmly with eye contact, and physical connection was part of the rhythm of daily life
.
Now, though, I’m more mindful.
When I return to Findhorn, friends often greet me with enthusiastic arms wide open. If we’ve shared kindness, care or meaningful moments in the past, those hugs feel mutual—like a genuine reunion. But when someone who hasn’t been particularly kind approaches me in the same way, I feel a strong reluctance. Still, they reach out expecting the same openness, and more often than I’d like, I give in. I offer a hug I don’t feel, standing there stiffly, trying to protect myself from the person, the memories and the gesture.
Saying “no” to touch can be uncomfortable, especially when it’s socially expected. But sometimes, it’s exactly what we need to do. Our boundaries—not just emotional but physical—deserve respect.
Hugs can be healing, grounding and deeply meaningful. They can also be complicated. Navigating the difference requires honesty with ourselves and clarity with others.
And in a world becoming ever more cautious about touch, perhaps the real invitation is this: to notice what feels right for us—and to honour it.