I met up with a good friend recently. We’ve known each other since university, where we shared rooms, so we have a lot of common ground - including the obligatory shared embarrassing memories! Our youthful misdemeanours have given us a special bond, although I sometimes wonder how on earth our landlord put up with us.

As you know I love being outside in nature, and cycling is one of the outdoor activities I’ve come to enjoy. I know my limits though: mountain biking a while ago in Italy up and down steep gullies was definitely a step too far!

Last year, as many of you know, I travelled to the USA to attend the first in-person conference on Psychophysiologic Disorders in Boulder, Colorado. I’d been teaching in San Francisco with Lissa Rankin the previous weekend, which meant I was perfectly attuned to the time zone.

When you live with chronic pain, ‘safety’ might not be the first word that comes to mind. You might be more familiar with tension, tightness and the constant background hum of worry, wondering when the next flare-up will come. But what if feeling safe enough was actually one of the keys to helping your body and brain heal?

Many years ago, a dear friend of mine asked me to be godmother to her daughter Jess. I’ve loved following Jess’s development from infant to competent professional, but over the years there’s been little opportunity for us to catch up, for a variety of reasons. I often need a nudge to contact her outside of Christmas and birthdays.

Some of you may know that I have identical twin brothers who are older than me, and it’s them I have to thank for my initial interest in movement.  When we were children no-one else could tell my brothers apart, but to me it was always obvious who was who as their walking styles were so different

We’ve all been there - that heavy, dragging feeling when we just don’t want to do something. It could be a workout, a difficult conversation, tidying the house or sitting down to a creative project. There’s a quiet tug inward, a little voice that whispers ‘not now… maybe later’. Resistance creeps in subtly, sometimes disguised as tiredness, distraction or apathy. If we’re not careful, it can pull us into full withdrawal, disconnected from what we intuitively know is good for us.

When Chris* reached out to me he’d been experiencing chronic back pain for almost a year and low, grumbling pain for far longer. It was only when it had become unbearable that he contacted me.

A great sadness was how much his world had shrunk. He’d loved sport and playing Tag Rugby in particular, as well as enjoying the social life that accompanied it. Now none of this was possible because of the debilitating back pain.