What struck me most was how normal life could appear. During the lulls between shelling and gunfire, children would return to school and laugh and play in the village streets. Despite the chaos of their reality, there was a resilience in them that insisted on the normalcy of play, learning, and connection.

It’s hard to look at our world right now and not feel a sense of concern. Our social feeds are filled with misery. Wars are raging, innocent lives are lost, voices rising with anger, while others are silenced in fear. The rise of extremist ideologies, the demonising of difference, and the uncertainty of our shared future don’t just exist out there.

I see the therapeutic journey mirrored in the rhythm of nature, with its seasons of rest, bloom, decay, and renewal. We move through our own inner seasons where at times we feel cold and stripped bare, and there are the times we bloom and smile again.