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Reflections by Fiona Collins

30/6/2017

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I know I will be reflecting on the gains from my rich experiences at the Storytelling for Health Conference for a long time to come.  There was a great variety of themes and topics to choose from, and I enjoyed the refreshing mixture of performances, workshops, exhibitions and papers.
 
I came to the Conference with a desire to develop greater awareness and understanding in my storytelling work, and in particular, after contributing to Dying Matters Week for the first time, to be able to offer more useful support to people at the end of life.
 
I was very sad not to be able to go to everything, and I know that I missed many incredibly worthwhile experiences, simply through the exigencies of the timetable, so I am only able to give a picture of a small proportion of all that was on offer.  
 
I went to presentations on Patient stories, Stories in mental health and Stories at the end of life. I made a presentation myself in Stories with children, about my work as a storyteller at Ysbyty Gwynedd.
 
Two highlights for me were ‘Stolen’, by Daniel Morden and the Devil’s Violin, and the presentation of Re-Live’s work by Karin Diamond and Alison O’Connor.
 
I’m in awe of Daniel’s courageous and full-throttle approach to living with cancer.   I couldn’t go to hear him speak about his personal journey this time.  However, I did go to ‘Stolen’, and was struck by the skill with which he wove together traditional motifs to create a sustained and sustaining metaphor of the journey through life-changing illness.  I will never forget the man whose body had been turned to glass and then filled with wasps.  Only by drinking the Water of Death could he vanquish the wasps, and then be revived by the Water of Life.  
 
I knew of Karin and Alison’s work by reputation, and it was inspiring to see, on film, testimony from the very many people who have been enabled to share their own stories by working with Re-Live.   In fact, I was so moved by their work, that I have applied to attend their forthcoming training course.
 
I enjoyed the friendly atmosphere, the care and attention to detail shown by Prue and Emily and their team, the inspiring keynote speeches - especially from Eluned Morgan - and the chance to talk about things which are important to us with friends old and new. 
 
I was impressed in particular by Prue’s energy: she coordinated the conference; created a playful atmosphere, with prizes for travelling far or inspiring people and stickers for learning and using Welsh; took care of people who were touched too deeply by the subject; chaired three sessions and introduced a multitude of keynote speakers; made all the housekeeping announcements so that everyone knew where they were supposed to be … and when.  She even gave a paper to fill the gap when a speaker was unable to attend.   It’s clear that her own work in this field is of great value.   Thank you Prue, for being the perfect host!
 
My thanks go, also, to two generations of one family: to Steve Killick, who chaired with great sensitivity the session in which I presented, making it possible for a large group to really share their responses and to hear each other speak, and to his daughter Ciara, who volunteered throughout the weekend, and supported the chair of the first session I attended by carrying out, with great speed and courtesy, the unenviable task of racing with the microphone to members of the audience who wanted to make a comment from the floor.  Da iawn ti!
 
Finally, I would like to thank the two young students who waited outside the main sessions, brightly clad and brandishing colourful umbrellas, to escort or direct delegates to the different venues.  To me, they epitomized the sense of fun underpinning this remarkable conference.
 
I met old friends and new.  I talked about death, life, despair, hope … and stories. I shared laughter, tears, good food and good conversation.  And all this in glorious sunshine, by the seaside, in what Dylan Thomas, the city’s famous son, called ‘an ugly, lovely town …. by the side of a long and splendid-curving shore’.   Who could ask for anything more?

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On Friday Night illustration

30/6/2017

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Picture
This is the image  of the mining trainees talked about in the last blog.
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On Friday Night by Victoria Field

29/6/2017

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On Friday night, I can’t sleep.  My mind swirls from thought to thought, idea to idea, impression to impression. My dinner was a large glass of red wine in the Waterfront Museum just before the performance of STOLEN and a coffee and two Welsh cakes bought in the leisure centre opposite in the interval. My room in the Town House annex of Morgan’s Hotel has regency sash windows and a space-age bathroom with a shower designed for double occupancy. I’m staying here alone. As I walked from the station, Swansea shocked me with its deprivation then surprised me with its pockets of beauty and friendliness. It’s colder than I expected and then warmer too.
A recurring image in Daniel Morden’s performance is the missing woman and the red thread that will bring her home. I’m missing from my everyday life but no one’s looking for me. I am here following the red thread of memory back through my life and intention forwards through the power of story.  
Re-Live opened their presentation with images of Romanian orphanages and the red thread led me back thirty years to the time when Europe changed for ever. Those events are now history and for my younger friends and relatives, I’m a story-keeper of what it was like to cross the border into Eastern Europe.
The politicians speaking on Friday morning took me back twenty years to when I first began to work in Arts for Health – their same emphatic endorsement of the power of this work, the same articulated need for us to convince the powers-that-be, the purse-string-holders. The red thread here is hard to see in the giant weave of political narratives, a stories with no progression that will be told for decades to come.
More interesting for me were the veterans discovering their voices, a fairy tale of the wizard king with eagles and parrots, the drama of a medical error told from ten different angles where you could hear a pin drop, the talk over coffee and lunch with people from distant countries, the rendition of Shenandoah by Live Music Now’s soprano so three of us stopped dead in our tracks, eyes filling with tears. Dan Yashinsky made us laugh and then my heart stopped again seeing the tiny white feather float from his parka onto the dying man’s hospital bed, the red thread of loss tugging at its strings.
Most of the sessions I attended were in the Reading Room, once Swansea’s Reference Library, an architectural masterpiece, turning us into tiny creatures, talking and telling beneath the petals of a vast glass flower, surrounded by shelves of uniform books that turned out to be empty covers.  The red thread takes me back to childhood where libraries and reading were where I lost and found myself.  What stories should we include in those empty books?
Lying awake, following the red threads of this amazing – in both senses of the word - conference, I’m haunted by the gaze of the young mining trainee looking straight to camera in a giant blown-up photograph in the museum. He could be alive now, an elderly man.  He might be one of the daytime drinkers in the dispiriting Kings Arms Tavern next to the Volcano Theatre?  Or the man moving slowly on sticks who smiled at me in the Quadrant Shopping Centre where I went looking for the heart of the city? Perhaps he was able to go to evening classes for the workers and became a city elder making use of the spectacular Reference Library and advocating arts for health. Or perhaps he changed himself into an eagle to retrieve a lost daughter?
In the ravelled ball of the red thread of story, it’s all true.

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#PatientsRock by Peta Bush

28/6/2017

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I was welcomed on my arrival at the Waterfront Museum by beautiful harp music. It drew me into a most enjoyable and meaningful conference where I sat captivated in the audience, and where I also shared my story as a designer-researcher and patient. As a designer-researcher, who is interested in patient narrative, I hoped to learn from the experts. As a patient, I left feeling even more empowered and valued.
 
 
These packed few days demonstrated for me the transformational effect that the arts have on people’s lives. We will all be patients and experience ill health and disability. This conference explored and expressed many of the ways that storytellers, patients and health practitioners have found to share these experiences, in ways that enrich our lives. I heard stories that made me laugh, that offered moments of contemplation, and those made me feel strength and delight.
 
 
I listened to patients and arts practitioners, and I heard from healthcare professionals who listened to their patients - I mean - really listened.  There were discussions about care, about listening, about empathy and compassion and how difficult it all can be and how inspiring it was when it worked. This conference offered stories with rich layers to unwrap and to learn about our health and ill-health experiences.
 
 
And in all of this was the patient - voicing dreams hopes and fears, displaying the muckiness and rawness of lives and making sense of it all. Patient narratives are important, they show us the humanity of the patient and in so doing reflect our own humanity.
 
 
I drag myself away from this conference exhausted, energised and well-fed – no conference sandwiches here! And importantly, I left knowing that patients rock!

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Superact Blog by Stu Packer

26/6/2017

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The 376 bus from Street to Bristol is very pleasant. Gorgeous views across expanses of the Mendips above Wells in Somerset. It also has free wifi; yippee for those who need to catch up on a bit of work?! Except, around midday on Thursday 15th June 2017, the wifi wasn’t connecting; yippee for those who like to commune with the Universe.
 
Thoughts of what was to be, on my way to Swansea, drifted across the expanses of my mind. Swansea, never had the pleasure. I try not to look things up; Swansea, dark dank, industrial. Quite likely. A really good friend had left Swansea over 20 years ago for the shores of Hong Kong. He only returns to visit family. I send him photos as my train winds through South Wales. He laughs, and then cries, apparently. He is home sick. Swansea, the Mumbles, the Gower. Memories of rainy camping trips in my childhood crop up. Of falling into a massive stinging nettle patch wearing only my 70s swimming trunks…
 
The train arrives and I wend the ever so short distance to the Volcano Theatre. One of the venues of this, the inaugural Storytelling for Health Conference. A fab funky space with people who i recognise immediately as being from my tribe. Smiley, creative, warmly welcoming. “Hi, I’m Emily” gosh, the amazing woman from the George Ewart Evans Centre for Storytelling, in the flesh! Smiling, pointing to where i can put up the Superact poster. She is a Doctor! Her warmth is palpable. Thank you Emily!
 
“Hello Stu, have you seen the program? Your picture is in it!” calls Prue. Prue is the other amazing lady, from my perspective, who organised this auspicious event, along with Emily. They. Are. Here. In. The. Flesh.
 
It becomes real. The experience is being experienced. As i blue tack (it’s white) the Superact poster to a column (for 3D effect) both Prue and Emily are busying around, offering smiles and help to those who are arriving. These people are of my tribe, I am at home.
 
An interesting observation occurred. A couple of the Welsh folks requested, or were offered, a hammer to put their posters up. I pointed out that in England, we just use our thumbs to push the blue (or white) tack to the wall. Occasionally it feels so good to be that manly.
 
A refreshing shower after checking in at my hotel, then back to the Volcano for the opening. The opening Presentation (performance no less) from Karin and Alison of Re-Live hit the nail on the head. Their way of telling us the Re-Live story was amazing, it enthralled and beguiled us. What they do, well that blew us away.  This was already a stand out experience and connection for me, and for Superact. These gorgeous souls are best friends and their smiles, infectious.
 
Oh, going back to the opening speech from Andrew Davies earlier on the evening of Thursday 15th June, coupled with the Conference opening speeches at Swansea’s Waterfront Museum, opened my mind. Yes, i had thought that this area was dark, dank and industrial; how benignly English of me! How wonderfully wrong was I.
 
On the morning of Friday 16th June, keynote speeches from Andrew Davies, from the Welsh Health Minister (Vaughan Gething - filmed), from Baroness Eluned Morgan and from Phil George all stirred me. It was enriching, uplifting and most of all system-shifting. I was present in the Swansea Bay area. I was humbly learning that this area was a shining beacon of care, health and wellbeing, a shining light of storytelling, arts and ultimately love. I feel more awakened, more alive. I note that I must take this back over the water, across the border to England. We badly need this caring loving ethos in England. One insight of the keynotes sticks out, “Storytelling is not just a ‘would like’ but a ‘need’” from Eluned Morgan. Another from the passionate Phil George challenged us to, “cause the weather to change.” This is not just a bottom up cultural awakening but a top down cultural shift too. I feel like writing, ‘Well done Wales’ but that could sound patronising… but, you know what, WELL DONE WALES.
 
I breathe all this in and wander off to my first event.
 
This was Patient Stories at the Glynn Vivian Gallery. This is close to my heart as I am privileged to work in a very similar field, of facilitating the space where marginalised people can share their stories; bringing about a cathartic confidence. I had met Joseph Sobol, very briefly the previous evening. As the new Director of the George Ewart Evans Centre for Storytelling, Joseph comes with an air of worldly wisdom. I warm to him, his freshness. He is a brilliant Chair for Patient Stories. I sit entranced by all speakers. It is David Ambrose who told the magical almost tragical tale of having a Heart Event. A master Storyteller telling a Personal Story about having a heart attack, the really quick stent operation, and now the recovery, was mesmerising. These stories carry as much wisdom and insights as any folk tale for me. I managed to grab a couple of minutes with David afterwards. Sometimes i feel that i too have a knack of saying the right thing, “Thank you for staying alive David, to tell us this tale”. Thank you indeed.
 
Lunches, both on the Friday and on the Saturday, were gorgeous, wholesome and delicious. Whoever you may be, thank you for such yummy tastes and a full belly. Really full.
 
Nap time after lunch, naturally. No chance. Off to the next bit on the agenda.
 
Prue Thimbleby has this amazing holistic way of getting everyone to just be present. She is a sprite of the forest, manifested as a truly insightful tribal elder. Thank you Prue! Prue chaired the Stories in Mental Health. My experiences with Mental Health is small but as I work with people, first and foremost, I am drawn to this talk. I am also drawn because Superact is currently working on two major Mental Health related projects. I go to soak up experience, stories and wisdom. Again, all speakers hit an holistic nail on the head; their combined knowledge, experiences and insights filled more than the one room of the Glyn Vivian Gallery. I was particularly touched by Alette Willis and Lily Asch’s Real Talk; this, for me, made the Mental Health experiences human. Beautiful safe spaces in which people can share their stories and themselves, thus being both cathartic and empowering. By the by, I had heard that same expression in the Re-Live presentation the evening before. It was a recurring insight - read it again: cathartic and empowering - this could easily sum up Storytelling for Health; I have both professional and personal experience of this power.
I digress. In a good way.
Have you heard Karen Ingham present? She is a master Public Speaker, both passionate and articulate. She is a Professor and an Artist. She is a force and one of her strengths is that she is also incredibly lovely. I chatted to her during the evening’s Storytelling performance. She is totally present. I, we Superact, want to carry on the conversation with her. She, like others, blew me away with her work. Thank you Karen!
 
Our tickets entitled us to see the evening’s entertainment on Friday 16th June. How nice, free theatre, it feels like. I took my seat next to a lovely young vivacious Swansea woman and we talked about how it was to be the Universe, to be God. We looked each other in the eye, “hello God”. Tingles, you know, usual pre-entertainment chat with a gorgeous stranger.
 
Then something magical happened. Stop. Something, truly magical, happened. This, I know affected the whole audience. I had no idea of the magnitude of the treat i was in for. Before us was Stolen, a musical storytelling piece from The Devil’s Violin. The violin and cello haunted the space, filling it with both life and, at times, an eerie feeling of coming death. Exquisitely played. Both musicians were tremendously generous with their stage craft too, eagerly giving their attention to the storyteller. The Storyteller. Oh, this was the first time ever that I had seen, heard and witnessed Daniel Morden. His voice, his body, his face, his whole being leads me to a faraway place in my head, my heart, he leads me to deep dark places in my soul. Daniel is a magician, a shaman, an Elder of Storytelling. The whole performance was the best that I had been lucky enough to see in many a year.
 
And, lucky reader, they will tour Stolen in the Autumn. Do go, all of you. Seek out The Devil’s Violin. Fill. Your. Self. Up.
 
The rest of my Friday night was adventurous, fun and exciting…
 
Saturday 17th June 2017 was amazing. I start it by being drawn to the Creative Writing workshop for one reason, one quite mad reason, only. Last July 2016, i was in a short film called Breakdown, playing the male lead. Elspeth Penny played the female lead, being my on-screen wife. We had never met! Since our scenes were separate and shot on different days. We have met now, at the Storytelling for Health conference.
 
So, that’s a kooky reason to be drawn to a workshop innit?! I am so glad i went too. Across the road from the Glynn Vivian is the Alex Building, inside a glorious round library. Superb setting for what was to be the most powerful experience. First up was Sarah Goodey with her Healing Words project, a project so full of heart, caring and love that I could have left hovering on an inch of air. Sarah facilitated us to create a Picture Poem and then a Recipe Poem. Here is my Recipe Poem:-
 
Title at End
 
Hello honey
Are you funny?
Please be runny
Sweet you bee
 
Hey marmite
You’re kidding right?
You taste so right
Salty you be
 
I love you most
When I spread you both
Tween two slices
Of wholemeal toast
 
Marmite and Honey on Toast
 
…you get the idea. Next was heavenly voiced Victoria Field. She facilitated us writing poems, whilst we didn’t even know that we’d started! She held up a nest, and asked, what is it? A nest? Then followed by these questions… what else is it?… what is it made of?… who made it?… what is it made of?… what happened to it?… what will happen to it? The result. My ‘poem’:-
 
Nest
 
It is a wg
A pubic wig
A haven
A wild place
A cradle
 
It is made of coir
Devotion
Dried grass
Hope
Tangents
 
Bird made it
God made it
I made it
 
It is from Wales
It is from Space
It is from fairy tales
 
It has got lost
It has been found
 
It will be plagiarised
It will be alright
It will all end.
 
…you get the idea. Victoria lead us in to another one; Begin with My (someone) Called Me. This immediately set off an inner argument with my Mum; we often argue in real life and so this exercise became very powerful and ultimately cathartic, very quickly. Here is what I wrote:-
 
My Mum Called Me
Gosh.
She never does
She never would
Oh, No.
She once did, I recall
She called because my Dad
Had seen me at the Doctors
“Hi Stu, it’s Mum. Dad
Saw you at the Doctors.
Is everything alright?”
…
 
…you get the picture. Victoria had stopped us saying, “put three dots at the end. You can finish it later”.  To me, it is finished, though i had a lot more to say. We talked for way over an hour on the phone that night, the way we used to before mobile phones and the internet made it too easy to keep in touch. At the time of writing, I am going to see my Mum and Dad in two days. Thank you Victoria!
 
Then, the ‘coincidence’. Elspeth Penny (my on-screen wife) and her friend and colleague Dr Alice Malpass gave the most incredibly insightful workshop looking at the breath. Their project Life of Breath challenges our perception of our breath. By ‘coincidence’ I consider myself a professional breather; i’m an actor, storyteller, facilitator type who coaches people, starting with the breath. In my personal life, well, i ignore it like a well-worn lover. My Personal Health Story, very briefly, is that I have Partial Seizures which are controlled by medication. Recently I have been conscious how my thoughts and my breath affect having these seizures. I have asked my Guardian Angel if s/he could help heal my brain and so I am weaning myself off this medication. My inner realm has flourished, many times, consciously aware of my breath. This cannot be a coincidence! Elspeth is my on-screen wife! She guides us to write a letter to our breath, on a postcard. This is my letter:-
 
Dear breath,
I’m sorry for not noticing, for not being in touch, for not seeming to care.
I do love you and want to breathe you and embrace your giving, healing, divine love.
With gratitude and love
Stu
 
Wow. I breathe all this in and wander off, transfixed by the lovely thoughts in my mind.
(The film is called Breakdown, by the way, by Dave Mackie.)
 
After witnessing Stolen the previous evening, I must go and see Daniel Morden tell his Personal Story of his fight with cancer. That is immediately dispelled. Daniel says this has not been a fight with cancer, it has been a fight with fear. He tells us that he is uncomfortable with telling stories in the first person. Funny, strange, as this is where i am most comfortable, baring my heart and soul has become a wonderful cathartic and empowering experience for me. Daniel bares his. He is eloquent, he is articulate, he is raw. This guy f**kin rocks. His vulnerability is also his strength. He is truly a pied piper as he leads us through a wonderfully crafted, at times, painful story. He tells us that he won’t be doing the first person thing again any time soon. In a Storytelling for Health setting - it’s perfect! Pity in a way, he seems to have healed something inside so many of us. Thank you Daniel! So many quotes from this wonderful wordsmith, one resonates deep inside me, “Storytelling gives me moments of reprieve”.
 
Sun. Kiss. Train. 376 bus. Home. Spaced. Out.

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    20 Blogs describing the First Storytelling for Health Conference held in Swansea UK in June 2017

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  • How to Videos
  • Storytelling
    • Integrated Storytelling
  • Swansea Bay Health Board
    • Highlights
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    • Patient Experience >
      • Dance to Health
      • Taking Care
      • Reading Friends
      • Past Projects >
        • Conference 2017 >
          • Conference June 2019 >
            • Conference Blogs 2019
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        • Reconstructing Ourselves
        • Cancer Ward 12
        • Storytellers in Residence
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