A Host of Golden Daffodils

When I think about personal growth and the way stories shape us, my mind often drifts back to a memory that has stayed with me since childhood. My mother used to recite Wordsworth’s “I wandered lonely as a cloud” to my brother and me when we were young. She was an engaging communicator, someone who told stories with warmth. It was one of many stories and poems my mother carried from her own childhood in Jamaica.

My mother’s voice, and the memory of poems and stories, taught me that storytelling holds power. Today, I think of the people who, like her, journeyed across oceans and built new lives while carrying fragments of old worlds in memory and speech. I think of how stories migrate, reshaped by every tongue that tells them.

For me, those daffodils have come to symbolise every story I’ve ever been told, by clients, collaborators, friends, and strangers. Each story is golden, held and respected. They remind me that human connection, often begins in moments of quiet noticing, when we pause long enough to really see and listen.

As a counsellor and creative practitioner, I see this as the heart of what I do: holding stories that have travelled. Whether spoken in therapy sessions, community projects, or creative collaborations, each story is deserving of respect. They remind me that healing often begins with listening to where our words come from, and how they’ve carried us here.

Every conversation, every shared experience, is a reminder that we’re not as lonely as we might sometimes feel. Personal development is not as a solitary act but something deeply relational, it’s something we grow through together. My own growth is developing through collaboration, co-curation, and shared reflection. Whether through reflection, creativity, or simple conversation, I find importance in creating spaces and opportunities where stories can be heard, valued, and authored in ways that honour journey.