Thursday 9 April 2020

The Door No One Wants To Open

“The hardest thing for anyone to do is open that door and walk through it.  I see people walk past the window time and time again, but they don’t want to come through the door.  Sometimes they walk past 4 or 5 times before they enter.”  It’s an incredibly perceptive observation and unsurprisingly it comes from Paul Kelwick.  Paul is the Manager of G R Pinder Memorials in Scarborough. It’s more than a job to Paul – it’s a way of life and he uses his knowledge and years of experience to bring an especially personal touch to his clientele.

“I distinctly remember one gentleman...” Paul shares “…who walked past the window but just couldn’t come in, he even walked up to the door a couple of times, but it was just a step too far.  Then one day when he came, I was in the workshop at the side of the showroom and I called out to him, asking if I could help?”  He continued; “The chap burst into tears and stuttered out that he needed to arrange a memorial for his late wife.  But it was all too much, and he rushed off, embarrassed that he had broken down. The next time he came I offered him a brochure and the option to visit him at home, which I thought would be easier for him and he readily agreed.  It took 6 visits to his home to arrange a memorial.  You see what I do is to help with the last tie that the person has with their loved one.  It’s the conclusion and closure of their time on earth and that is just too much for some people to come to terms with, sometimes for a long time after the person has died.  People need time to grieve to often the memorial is instrumental in helping that grief: it is a place to go where thoughts about the deceased can be indulged.”

As a young lad growing up in Scarborough, Paul loved to go fishing and any chance he had to go out on his Uncle Jim’s trawler he took it. At only 10 years old he was to be found hanging around his Uncle’s boat cleaning out the cabin for “half a crown” pocket money. When he was 15 and keen to leave school at Easter, his form tutor said if he had a job offer on the table and his employer confirmed this in writing then he was “free to leave”.  Paul’s Uncle Jim did just that and Paul began work helping him on his trawler.  For two years Paul worked with his Uncle, sometimes out at sea for 3 or more days at a time and then the engine on the boat developed a big problem.  Paul’s Uncle advised him that if he could find another job, he should take it.

Paul - just turned 17 - had recently passed his driving test.  Paul’s dad and Ray Pinder – a stonemason in Scarborough – used to frequent the same café in Scarborough and had become friends. Upon hearing Paul had passed his test and was looking for a job Ray told Pauls, dad, to ask him to get in touch – he was “looking for a young lad to join us”.
In those early days, Paul would go out fixing headstones, canvassing around Leeds and York – including Emerson’s now part of the J Rotherham group. 

 A, by then retired, stonemason from Pickering called Billy Dove continued to do some work for Pinders from his garden shed and Paul would be sent on a Monday to spend the day with him, helping him.  It was Billy who taught Paul how to carve and letter stone.  Before long Paul was tasked with both hand-carving and machine cutting the marble scants, not only letters but roses and other flowers.  It was something Paul found incredibly satisfying and rewarding.

It is with a sense of pride that Paul can tell me the exact date he joined G R Pinder as their youngest member of staff – 16th March 1977 – some 43 years ago this year.  There have been some major milestones during those 43 years.  The first red-letter day came for Paul when his wife to be, Lillian, walked through the door to arrange a memorial for her late father.  Lillian tells me: “Paul was so kind to my mother and me throughout the whole process, at what was a very distressing time.  We became good friends and now here we are today, married 34 years this year.”

The next major milestone was when Ray Pinder retired and sold the business to
J Rotherham a family-run stonemason who although never changing the name over the door still own the business today.  Recognising the personable character and inherent people skills, together with the stone masonry skills they had in Paul, the Rotherham family retained the status quo.

But what of the door that people don’t want to open?  Has that become any easier? “I’m happy to go to them and that does help…since that first time, it’s become a service we offer, and people really appreciate that.”  He concludes: “Some people like to come into the showroom, see and feel the stones but for those who find that all too much we have the solution.”  Of his own future, he laughs and jokingly says: “Well I’m waiting for a long-promised bottle of Whisky or carriage clock for my long service but honestly?  There’s nowhere I’d rather be…. except for maybe the odd fishing trip now and then.  I now have my own boat for that though!”

Paul can be contacted at G R Pinder in Manor Road, Scarborough, YO12 7RT.
Tel: 01723 373 712.

© Sharon Malone - text may only be reproduced with permission of the author.



Wednesday 8 April 2020

A Chisel, A Hammer And A Robin

On a bright and sunny Spring morning amidst the daffodils, sweet scented hyacinths and ancient gravestones in York Cemetery there sits a solitary figure, patiently tip-tapping at the delicate stone in front of him.  We hear him before we see him, his hammer and chisel strangely in tune with the birds singing all around him.



He blends in beautifully to his surroundings, as if he belongs in the wooded glade which is his workplace today.  He appears to be oblivious to the little Robin who carefully supervises his every move, but it turns out later the Robin is often his companion wherever he is working.  This is Paul Sandilands; he is one of only a handful of skilled Stonemasons left in the country today.

It was Paul’s form tutor, who, recognising his artistic talent set him on the road to what was to be not only his passion but his life-work too when she handed him a sheet of paper, saying “They are looking for someone….it may be of interest to you.”  The paper was an advert for a local, family-run business, J Rotherham, Monumental Stonemasons who were looking for Saturday staff.  At only 15 years old Paul became one of the youngest members of staff to join the Rotherham fold, albeit only on a Saturday whilst he completed his studies at school.

Joe Rotherham Senior, a craftsman Stonemason liked what he saw in the young lad who worked hard cleaning and re-fixing the kerbs and headstones that formed the bread and butter of the Company’s business.  The workshop would prepare the stones at the beginning of the week and Paul would accompany and assist the fitters at the end of the week, working in the cemeteries and graveyards around the Pocklington area. 

Joe recognised Paul’s hard work and offered Paul the opportunity to stay behind each Saturday after his morning shift for a free lesson in stone carving and lettering.  It was an opportunity Paul was keen to accept and over the weeks he watched in awe as Joe’s skilful hands and tools made something extraordinarily beautiful from the stone in front of him.  Each week became a Masterclass and Paul very quickly learned the skills and techniques he still practises today.  When he left school in July 1984 Paul was delighted to accept the full-time position offered at the family firm.

There followed many years of learning his craft, he attended night school studying sculpture and calligraphy and went on two courses to learn at the hands of expert Mason John Green from Oxton. The majority of his education, however, came “on the job” as he watched and assisted other craftsmen Masons such as Joe Rotherham and Fred Emerson – who sold his York-based business to the Rotherham family when he retired - although he continued to accept lettering and carving commissions for a number of years thereafter.
There was a tone of admiration and respect in his voice when Paul quietly spoke about Fred Emerson, commenting on what a different style Fred had to Joe Rotherham and how fast he was at letter carving.  Fred had a quite unique style, often working in lower case lettering as well as the more traditional upper case favoured by other Stonemasons. 

Paul was honoured with the task of creating Fred’s gravestone when he died, we could see it from where Paul was working today.  A large black monolith, on which is inscribed a hammer, chisel and a Robin.  The Robin is significant as Fred always said that there was a Robin who sat watching him work in his York workshop – just as there was today, watching Paul.



The headstone Paul was working on today was deemed too delicate to risk moving and so he had been commissioned to undertake the delicate carving with the stone still “in-situ”.  As we approached, I could see that Paul had already marked out in pencil on top of a clay wash the inscription he was about to carve.  It was fascinating to watch him work and for a few fleeting minutes, I could imagine how Paul must have felt watching Joe Rotherham all those years ago.  The pencil lines crisscrossed the top of the headstone, creating a crossword type of layout and each individual letter had been carefully drawn in the individual squares. 


When asked which commissions he has worked on that he had found most rewarding Paul doesn’t hesitate, the first he mentions was hand-carving a beautiful stone fireplace for the home of a multi-millionaire businessman.  Fireplaces, Paul explained were Matt Rotherham's passion. Paul had worked on many different stone fireplaces but this one was very ornate with extremely intricate carving and Paul had a great sense of satisfaction when it was done and fitted.


His second thoughts were of some huge stone capitals (the fancy bits that sit on top
of stone columns) which J Rotherham were commissioned to carve for a large
stately home. It took 2.5 years to carve them all but, Paul lamented that he had
never seen them all in place – something he would like to do.




One of the most moving tasks Paul has undertaken however was the creation of a
memorial dedicated to two Australian Airmen who crashed their De Havilland
Mosquito plane into the Parish Hall at Horndean in Hampshire, just 3 miles away
from their Thorney Island base in 1945. On seeing the aftermath of the crash the
1940’s Horndean children were so touched by the sacrifices made by the two airmen
that they campaigned and raised funds for years in order to commission a fitting
memorial. The memorial was carved by Paul and unveiled on the 75th anniversary of
the crash. Paul met some of the surviving children at the unveiling of the monument.



When asked how Paul likes to spend his spare time, unsurprisingly his answer involves his artistic nature and he candidly shows me photos on his phone of some beautifully painted pet portraits, with pictures of the dogs and then pictures of their painted portraits.  The likeness is breath-taking. Paul also shares that he still likes to sculpt in clay.  In addition to this, he loves walking, playing squash, cycling – both on the roads and mountain biking - and playing golf. 



As we leave him to his work, we take a moment to visit Fred Emerson’s memorial and once again I am aware of the tip-tapping sound of Paul’s hammer and chisel and I find myself momentarily musing if Fred is watching over Paul as he practises the art he learnt in part at the skilled hands of Fred.  In that moment the little Robin flies down and sits on a gravestone, right by where Paul is working and carefully watches him.  A coincidence?  I think not.

© All text and images Sharon Malone 2020



Tuesday 7 April 2020

A Muse of a Childhood Spent in a Yorkshire Village. Part 1 - Winter & Summer.


If, with retrospect, I could choose a childhood for myself I would choose exactly the childhood I was privileged to enjoy: that of growing up on our family farm in Tholthorpe.  It was amazing.  Not only did it shape my whole life in a way that I’ve been drawn to the village ever since, long into adulthood, but I wanted my own children and now their children to spend as much time as possible in the village “on the farm” enjoying the same thrills and experiences shared by generations before them.

Village life was simple – we spent all our time outdoors, whatever the weather.  The winters I remember most were “hard” winters with lots of snow – quite deep in parts – during which the pond would freeze over and the village children would skate on it and sledge across it - getting quite a speed up sledging down the slight incline of snow onto the frozen ice of the pond itself. I don't remember feeling the cold - we just dressed appropriately in hats, scarves, gloves and layers, lots of layers.  Wellies were mandatory.  Green or black Dunlops for all. There was a huge sense of community in the village.  Everyone knew everyone else, the kids all played together on the green and around the village, most of the families living in the village were involved in some way in the farming way of life.

Life on the farm in winter was tough and oh so cold.  The farmhouse was draughty with old windows which, until we installed central heating, used to freeze up on the inside.  We had a coal fire in our bedroom and a hot water bottle each in bed, which mum used to prepare and put into our bed a few minutes before we went to bed.  When we came out from one room where there would be a coal fire burning to go to another the cold air would hit you in the corridor, making one quicken one's step somewhat in order to get back into the warmth as soon as possible.

It was dark when we got up and getting dark when we came home from school.  Our time was spent trying to stay upright on our back road whilst bringing in the cows for milking, breaking ice on water troughs for the horses, brushing snow and ice off hay and straw for the various animals that needed "bedding up" and feeding.  Often farm vehicles would refuse to start as the diesel in their tanks would have frozen.  Walking in the rutted fields to fetch the cows in was nigh on impossible and we found ourselves slipping everywhere, often only managing to walk with the aid of a stick broken off a tree for stability.  If we found a good strong stick we would keep it for next time.  Some sticks lasted all winter and beyond!

In those winters, we would join other village children and some parents sledging in the fields on the left as you go out of the village towards Myton.  One year my dad, came with us and would join me on my sledge “tandem” style as we went down the hill.  As we approached the bottom at great speed, veering off course into the hedge he stuck his foot out to slow us down.  It didn’t work – all that happened was the sledge ran over it and we tipped into the snow.  It was a soft landing but when the sledge ran over Dad’s ankle it broke it in several places.  This was a big problem because at the bottom of the hill there was no way out of the field!  We had to get him back to the top and he was no lightweight!

In true village style, everyone rallied round and a large rope was attached to the sledge, which several of the men from the village pulled whilst others pushed from behind and Dad was hauled to the top of the hill and his transport to A&E!  He still has pins in his ankle to this day from that accident.

The footpaths were never gritted during winter and as we rushed to the school bus many of the children would slide along them, stopping only as they crashed into the other children waiting for the arrival of the bus to pick them up.  In those days, it used to stop just along from the Post Office halfway up the village and you could find yourself sandwiched between one local lad, with his mop of ginger hair hurtling down the street towards you at the same time as another from the other end of the village was careering in the opposite direction.  If you were lucky you would manage to sidestep them both and miss the ensuing collision!  At times because the village was in a dip and the snow was deep the school bus wouldn't be able to make it through to us.  We would never know this though and all the village children would stand to wait at the bus stop, throwing snowballs at one another and sliding along the pavements until the bus was over an hour late and then we would decide to go home again.

Sometimes we would get to school and it would start to snow heavily.  We loved those days because we would be sent home early.  We used to hang around the telephone kiosk and ring people we knew, mostly our own parents.  Someone had drilled a hole into a 10p piece and we had tied a piece of string around it as the phone answered we would push the money into the slot, hear it drop and then pull it out again.  All the person heard on the other end of the line was a fit of giggles.  I'm sure all the parents knew what we were up to but no-one ever told us off for it.

As the approach to Christmas came the Sunday School children would go around the village with mum, who ran the village Sunday School with my dad, carol singing as she accompanied us on her piano accordion.  The villagers were very generous and welcoming but it was always so very cold – I remember blowing the breath you could see into our hands to try to warm them up.  We always had a Christmas service of some sorts in the Chapel and the whole village used to turn out to attend it with virtually all the village children taking a part of the service.  One year the whole of the Sunday school stood at the front for the finale, each holding a lighted Candle singing "This little light of mine.....I'm going to let it shine..." which was fine until one of the children's candle dripped candle wax onto their hand and they dropped the candle!  Chaos ensued and we narrowly missed setting the Chapel on fire when my dad managed to act quickly and extinguish the candle!  We never had children holding lit candles in the Chapel again from that day to this.

My favourite time of the year in Tholthorpe has always been spring.  When the daffodils turn the green yellow and everything is new and fresh.  We would take jam jars to the edge of the pond just by the village hall and go pond dipping to see what new life we could find.  We would find tiddlers – stickleback fish – and wonder how they got there since the pond was spring fed.  We’d paddle in the water but I always kept my wellies on as I didn’t like the smell of it and it was dirty, not clear!  Sometimes we’d grow frogs spawn in the jars watching as it turned from a jelly-like substance to tadpoles and eventually frogs – which we would return to the pond.  Watching this process fascinated us.  Simple things.

Not everything that went on in the village was quite so simple though.  The first time we heard the drone of what sounded like aircraft engines in the centre of the village people came out of their houses to see what the commotion was.  We could hardly believe our eyes.  One of the village boys had built himself a hovercraft and was skimming across the pond and back at great speed.  It's fair to say that very few of us in the village had ever seen a hovercraft, let alone have a clue how to build one. He became quite a local celebrity!  I believe he went on to race his hovercraft in various competitions - but that could be my imagination!

Monday 6 April 2020

A Personal Muse - Judith Morris - "Cemeteries"


Today we have a post from guest writer Judith Morris, Proprietor of York Tutors, as the name suggests based in York.  Prior to joining York Tutors Judith worked in the design industry before switching to accounting. She left work in 1978 to marry Malcolm and dedicate her time to raising their daughter Sheena who was swiftly joined by a younger sister Rebecca. Once the girls were in full-time education Judith chose to return to work by joining York Tutors.

On writing for "A Monumental Muse", Judith tells us: "When Sharon asked me if I would like to contribute, I was a little taken back but then I thought ‘why not’?"

Cemeteries

We recently, at the end of February, lost my father in law at the great age of 95, and whilst the last year of his life was not easy, as he could do less and less and consequently became more and more grouchy, he was still my lovely husbands Dad, our girls Grandad and my Father in law with whom I spent a lot of time when my husband was still working, taking him to various hospital appointments etc so his loss has left a big hole in the family.

However, as a strong Catholic with a great belief in the afterlife I have been sustained and I love graveyards/cemeteries – I really do and love wandering around them, reading the headstones, imagining the lives that these people who were obviously so loved had lived. I hate the thought of being cremated and scattered – this is a personal thing as I think that’s it, you are gone – and I do want to live forever, at least in someone’s eyes.

Choosing our headstone for my husband’s parents brought great joy to me, as I imagine someone in 100 years wandering through, stopping and reading it and for a moment, they are alive again – isn’t that a wonderful thought?

When I am wandering now, I look and can learn so much about not just that family, their lives but also our history. Sometimes just seeing how many little ones passed over in certain years tell us there was an epidemic at that time, or in that particular family they had amazing genes as they all lived past 80 – there is so much to learn.

I also think we are honouring them as we gaze at the final resting place, thinking about them, saying a little prayer and remembering.

These fabulous places are also full of flora, wild and cultured alike and benefit us all who live in cities and could be a lovely place to take our children for them to accept cemeteries as part of life.

So, when you next have a few free hours go and have a look round – you might not get the same feelings I do, but then again, you just might. 

Thank you to Judith Morris, Proprietor, York Tutors  We will be hearing more from Judith, together with an insight into exactly what York Tutors do and offer later this week.


Saturday 4 April 2020

Buckley's Book Club - Simon Sinek's "Start With Why. How Great Leaders Inspire Everyone To Take Action"



I first read this book whilst holidaying in Mauritius.  Once I started it I couldn't put it down and then when finished I read it again...and again.  Something totally unheard of for me.  Each time I re-read it I pick up something new.

Author Simon Sinek discovered that well-known successful people such as Martin Luther King, Steve Jobs, The Wright Brothers, Barack Obama, Nelson Mandela all have one thing in common: they started with "Why?"  Those who start with why he discovered, never manipulate, they inspire.  People follow them not because they are told to but because they want to.  He discovered that those who have had the most influence in the world all think the same way and it is the complete opposite to the way everyone else thinks.

Sinek explains how any organisation can tell you what they do, some can convey how they do it but very few can articulate why they do it.  Why isn't the profit they make, neither is it the money it makes, these are merely the results.  Why is it that a person will buy from one company but not another? Why are people loyal to some leaders but not others?  Why does the business exist and do the things it does?

Sharing a range of real-life stories of businesses including names like British Airways, Virgin, South West Airlines, Apple, Microsoft, IBM Sinek demonstrates how starting with why works in big and small businesses alike.  He shares exactly what it takes to lead and inspire.

In the book Sinek talks about a "golden circle".  If you imagine a bullseye type of circle with three circles in the whole, with the bullseye or centre being "Why", the next portion being "How" and the outer ring being "What", in the book Sinek relates this to the human brain.  He tells us that the human brain is made up from the limbic part (the inner two circles) and the outer neo-cortex.  The limbic or centre two circles is the part of our brain which is responsible for our emotions, feelings and drives things like trust and loyalty.  The limbic part is responsible for all our human behaviour, all decision making and has no capacity for language.  The neocortex is responsible for rational and analytic thought and language.  It is detail orientated, textual and statistical and relates only to the "What" segment of the circle.  So it's basically our biological makeup which determines our buying decisions.

When we communicate from the outside in - yes people can understand all the facts and figures, features and benefits of whatever it is they are considering buying or buying into but that doesn't drive their behaviour.  How you make them feel will drive their desire to purchase and that starts from the inside out.  Remember the limbic part of the brain doesn't have language, only feelings so if something "just doesn't feel right" then no purchase will be made.  This is where people are leading with their heart and gut instincts.  If you don't know why you do what you do and people respond to what you do then how are you going to appeal to their limbic brain?  In short, the goal is not to sell to people what it is you have, the goal is to sell to people who believe what you believe.  Likewise, the goal is not to hire people who just need a job but to hire people who believe what you believe.  He tells us if you hire people just because they need a job then they will work for your money but if you hire people because they believe what you believe then they will work for you with their blood, sweat and tears.

Sinek tells the story of the aviators the Wright brothers and Samuel Pierpont Langley to illustrate his point.  In the earliest part of the 20th century, the pursuit of man-powered flight was, Sinek says like the dot com of the day.  Everyone wanted to be the first.  Samuel Pierpont Langley had on paper what everyone would assume would be the winning formula - he was given $50,000 by the war department to "figure out" this flying machine.  Money was no problem, he held a seat at Havard and worked at the Smithsonian.  He was extremely well connected, he knew all the big minds of the day and he hired the best minds money could buy, not only that - the market conditions were fantastic.  The New York times followed him around everywhere and everyone was rooting for Langley.  So how come we've never heard of Simon Pierpont Langley?

Sinek explains, a few hundred miles away in Dayton, Ohio, Orville and Wilbur Wright - who had none of what you may consider a recipe for success, they had no money - they paid for their dream with the proceeds from their bicycle shop, not a single person on the Wright brothers team had a college education - not even Orville or Wilbur - and the New York Times followed them around nowhere.  The difference was, shared Sinek, the Wright brothers were driven by a cause, purpose, a belief.  They believed that if they could figure out this flying machine that it would change the course of the world.

Samuel Pierpont Langley was different; he wanted to be rich and he wanted to be famous.  He was in pursuit of the result - he was in pursuit of the riches.  What happened was the people who believed in the Wright brothers dream worked with them with their blood, sweat and tears.  The others just worked for the paycheck.  Stories are told about how every time the Wright brother went out they took with them five sets of parts because that is how many times they would crash before they returned for supper.  Then on December 17th, 1903, the Wright brothers took flight and nobody was there to see it - it was publicised a few days later.  The day they took flight, Langley quit.

 In summary, this book is a must-read for anyone who wants to inspire others in life or set their business apart from their competition.

Reviewed by Sharon Malone





Friday 3 April 2020

Buckley's Book Club Review: Mark Matousek's "When You're Falling, Dive"



Does suffering have an upside?

In his book, ‘When you're falling Dive’, Mark Matousek explores the effects that trauma can have on the progression of our lives. He argues that `post-catastrophe living' can often be more intense, more vibrant and more joyous than the lives of those who haven't experienced great suffering.

In an interview with Dr Rachel Remen, she tells him "The process of wounding actually awakens us to our strength. It shuffles our values. And the top priority is never what you thought it would be. It's never about perfection or power. It always turns out to be about love."

Although this may sound counter-intuitive, especially when we are in the middle of a painful experience, it is often true that suffering can open our eyes to the love that is in our lives. It can strengthen the relationships we have with family members or friends and may bring new relationships and new opportunities into our lives.

Experiencing trauma makes us realise that life can be fragile and brings the concept of impermanence to the forefront of our minds, but this can also help us to loosen our grip on the dissatisfaction of the material world and help us to contemplate the bigger questions. This change of perspective can help us to appreciate the relationships we have and, with more empathy, we are often able to treat those around us with greater love and compassion and less judgement, which, in turn, can lead to the possibility of enhanced relationships with others and more joy and love in our lives.

Mark tells us "...terror can be a door to enlightenment. While traditional cultures have long understood the empowering aspects of fear and wounding, the double-edged force of passage rites to galvanize and deepen the spirit, we are too often shielded from this secret knowledge" He believes that our contemporary view of pain and loss, as handicaps to be avoided at any cost, is not only wrong-headed', but could also potentially be dangerous and counter-productive for the evolution of mankind. "...terror is fuel; wounding is power. Darkness carries the seeds of redemption. Authentic strength isn't found in our armour but at the very pit of the wounds each of us manages to survive. As one widow put it to me,strength doesn't mean being able to stand up to anything, but being able to crawl on your belly a long, long time before you can stand up again."

In living through my own trauma, a cancer diagnosis at age 37,  I have come to the same conclusion as Mark, that it is through our suffering that we are able to become better human beings... "Our brains are highly mutable, reinventing themselves on a regular basis, which is why not putting pain to its natural use - as grist for the evolution mill - is such an extraordinary waste of suffering. While hardship can certainly render us bitter, selfish, defensive, and miserable, it can also be used quite differently; as the artery of interconnection, a bridge to other people in pain, as blood in the muscle that propels us. Crisis takes us to the brink of our limits and forces us to keep moving forward. When people in extremis call it a blessing this is the paradox they are describing...Crisis pushes you to travel wide, fast, and deep, expands the heart and calls forth reserves of courage you didn't know you had, like adrenaline in the muscles of a mother saving her only child. Only you are the child, and it's your life - the life of your own soul - that you are saving."

Life invariably involves loss, and whilst going through the excruciating treatment and aftermath of cancer diagnosis or trauma of any kind, it is hard to believe there might be a light at the end of the tunnel, but if we allow it, these events can mould us into stronger, kinder, more compassionate, and more vibrantly alive people. So perhaps we can take some comfort in the hope that there can be an upside to suffering after all.

Book reviewed by Anna Buckley.

Thursday 2 April 2020

Grief - Eat Well, Feel Better with Sabine Horner

When I first met Sabine Horner, Proprietor of Asana Nutrition, last year at a networking meeting, her life had taken a totally different direction to that which she had planned, and it was all because of a personal tragedy.

Sabine’s husband, Kevin, had passed away from acute myeloid leukaemia. During the last 18 months of his life, as his body fought the effects of the toxic chemotherapy drugs, Sabine studied Nutrition Science and Practise at the NCA in York to learn what nutrients would help him to feel better quicker. As part of this course, Sabine learnt about the effects of grief and emotional stress on the body and how insomnia and poor eating habits after the loss of a loved one can affect both the body and mind.

When we last met, Sabine told me that very little acknowledgement is made of the impact of grief on our bodies by either health professionals or grief workers and this was something she wanted to address, through her company, Asana Nutrition. I caught up with her this week and asked her 

How it is going?

When I spoke with you, I had already decided to change the status quo and make it my new mission in life to raise awareness of the importance of managing stress and eating a well-balanced, varied diet when grieving.” states Sabine, “ Food has a significant impact on our emotional, physical and mental well-being and can make us feel better or worse, depending on what we eat and when.”

Sabine continued: “When one`s partner dies, one of the first things that change is the daily dietary routine. We don´t feel like cooking anyway and I, for one, did not want to cook any of the recipes that Kevin and I used to prepare and eat together in the last 18 months of his life. They triggered too many - good and bad - memories.”

How do you advise people find the motivation to eat when there’s a lump in their throat and the last thing they feel like doing is cooking or eating?

Sabine responded: “The best way is to keep things simple and think in terms of adding colour to dishes we can cook without needing a recipe. Colours are a great way to lift our mood and can inspire us to get creative with stews, soups, stir-fries, wraps, an omelette or even a Sunday roast! My favourite go-to is a green stir-fry recipe that I regularly adapt by adding a wide variety of – not necessarily green – veggies. It always looks different and never tastes the same...”

“…I realise that making changes to one´s diet and lifestyle is difficult under the best of circumstances and bereavement makes it even more challenging. The key to establishing a new daily meal routine is gradual changes, one small step at a time. You may be surprised what a big impact just one or two changes can have on your overall well-being, boosting your energy and motivation to implement some more!”

Are there any food types to avoid when grieving?

In the initial period after bereavement, it is common for people to eat lots of convenience and comfort food. Or some people eat very little due to lack of appetite, nausea or difficulty swallowing...”

“…Because of the strong link between the gut and the brain, imbalances between the beneficial and harmful bacteria in our gut can cause mood disorders such as anxiety and depression. Stress and a diet high in processed foods and sugary snacks can easily tip the balance towards an abundance of bad guys who not only make us crave even more sugar but are also the root cause of many diseases.

Food also affects our blood sugar levels which in turn impact our energy, concentration and mood. Your energy levels will dip after eating bread, pasta, chips, pizza or dairy. These comfort foods are better avoided as they either contain sugar (lactose in milk) or are readily turned into sugar by the body. While they may be emotionally uplifting in the short-term, very soon our energy levels crash. Not ideal when we need more energy, not less!”

“The best way to combat low energy, mood and motivation would be to have three regular meals and as diverse a diet as possible to keep our gut bacteria happy, prevent blood sugar fluctuations and help us feel satisfied for longer.”

Are you able to offer support to others who have lost a partner and are struggling with their grief?

“Absolutely - to make this journey through grief, we need all the support we can get. That`s why I started to run monthly Culinary Grief Workshops. What better support than a group of peers who face the same challenges and understand better than anyone what we are going through every single day? In these small groups, bereaved partners can share experiences and coping strategies, learn from each other and make new friends for life who ‘get it’.

To create a safe and supportive space where bereaved people can meet and talk openly about their grief and share memories of their loved ones, I have recently launched the first Pop Up Grief Trust Café at OptionVe in Harrogate and have others planned for York. We were meeting up every first Friday of the month from 3-5pm. Once we are through the Coronavirus crisis, I hope to resume these workshops and Grief Café’s."

I’m excited to share with our readers that you have agreed to a regular feature on our blog, what can we look forward to in the coming weeks and months?

"- How to cope with grocery shopping after losing your partner and how to get creative with food left in the cupboard and/or fridge when you have been avoiding going to the shops long enough.

- ‘Eating A Rainbow’: Why it is important and simple ideas of how to get more colour into old-time favourites.

- The impact of grief / emotional stress on our body (and mind), why we may have malabsorption issues following a major bereavement, signs & symptoms and simple ways to improve our digestion & absorption.

- What the vagus nerve has to do with stress management and simple ways to stimulate this very important nerve.

- How nutrition can help with anxiety and simple (breathing) techniques to reduce anxiety levels.

- How to deal with insomnia – how nutrition, stress management and a regular daily routine can help, simple ideas of how to change/improve our bedtime routine and calm us down in the evening.

- The importance of vitamin D to prevent anxiety, low mood and energy, or even depression, reduce inflammation and boost our immune system.

- Menopause and bereavement: What women need to be aware of."




Connect with Sabine in any of the following ways: 
By phone 07539347643
Email info@asananutrition.co.uk 
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Cook along: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCiLP_F0BdoTJ5Of5KLOFJQ