I had tried to avoid this particular flavour of pain, having watched so many mothers before me, being left with nothing when their children left, by building a wonderful life for myself. And I did, I really did. But time can be filled, and filled with connection and depth but there is no protection against losing her particular flavour of heart, of humour, of vitality. How foolish I was to think it was possible to avoid this.

And then, so shortly afterwards a beautiful battle would begin where the music would infiltrate my mind and body and I’d feel it coming, I’d groan and roll over in refusal. But something would stir from somewhere within me and like a puppet on a string was pulled back up to my feet. “Ok, fine,” I would say out loud to no one or to everyone. And it would begin again.

We packed as well as we could, full of nerves and excitement, particularly about teaching in the school. And as excited as we were, much more excitement was warranted. What a wondrous treasure was awaiting us!

And of course, the answer lies in the question, what I am trying to get away from? It is not the sun, sea or sand. It is not laundry, dishes or driving the kids around.

And it was then that I began to hear those internal voices of self-shaming and harsh words. Voices so quiet that they sneak in under the radar, somehow strengthening their credibility.

9 years later I am in Cambodia, under the darkening sky, headphones on, taking time to myself on a lounger beside my 2 daughters, I look up and this is what I see. An almost Half-Moon, lying differently in the sky but it is the same glorious Moon.

The movements are slow, slower than you might think because the slower you go, the more you can feel. And as Thomas Hanna said, "If you can't feel it, you can't change it".