Issue 5: Hear from the ENO Breathe Community

This issue, we have three pieces to share with you from the ENO Breathe Community.

My experience of ENO Breathe: Leonie Brown

I work as a nurse, but also use my skills for many other things: motivational speaking, webinars, conferences, podcast, videos for the NHS and Florence Nightingale Foundation websites, presentations etc. In October I spoke at Black History Month Conference, about Black Health and Well-being.

My voice is my most treasured gift. When I lost it for several months after being in hospital with Covid, I was really concerned, and knew that I must do everything to get my voice back. I love singing and wanted to improve it after discharge from Intensive Care. I sing every day to myself, and even sang on a webinar as an opening last month! I believe that people should utilise and extend their talents, and sometimes need to be brave to do this.

The ENO Breathe sessions have equipped me with many tools to support my breathing, confidence, posture and well-being. One of the most memorable moments for me was the day I was on my way to a big event as the key note speaker.

I felt prepared and calm until the moment before I approached the venue. I experienced a sudden burst of nervousness, worry and reduced confidence. I quickly started trying to recall some of the strategies I had learned in my ENO Breathe sessions over the previous five weeks. The first one that came to mind was using the straw to blow into a glass of water. As I pulled up to the venue, I started doing the lion and mouse facial movements, and then blew slowly through pursed lips as though I was using a straw and water. I quickly did a check on my voice, and found that my confidence was raised with the newly found crispiness of my voice. I was so relaxed after those exercises that I walked into the venue as if I owned the building! Whilst the engineer was connecting my presentation to the screen projector, I began to introduce myself. A voice from the back of the room shouted, ‘sing’, and I sang so beautifully that I hardly recognised my voice. The audience clapped and screamed in excitement as if I had performed like a professional singer.

That experience was proof that what I had learned at the ENO Breathe sessions was well worth it. I will continue to utilise what I learned and cherish the beautiful experience I had in the sessions.

One stitch at a time: MH

I see a blanket 
So soft and warm. 
It’s comfort and healing 
That I see  
In that blanket.  

I remember learning, 
Knitting and pearling, 
A blanket growing, 
Growing and learning 
One stitch at a time.    

I see the colours, 
The pinks and greys,
The blue and mustard. 
It’s the patchwork of ups and downs 
That I remember. 
Recovering, improving, 
Pushing, rushing, 
Exhaustion. Frustration. 
Unpicking, restarting, 
Remembering to go one stitch at a time.    

I see a dropped stitch, 
A lost stitch, 
A stitch disconnected,  
Alone, 
Too tired to go out, 
Missing out. 
It’s the loneliness  
That I remember.  

I see the loose ends, 
The wonky seams and the mismatched tension. 
It’s the honesty of the imperfection 
That I see. 
Creativity, 
Letting go of perfection, 
One imperfect stitch at a time.    

I see joy in that blanket too, 
The joy of each moment, 
Of slowing down, 
Of noticing, 
Of living one stitch at a time.  

I remember counting, 
Counting stitches, 
Counting time, 
I see the needles clicking, 
Quietly ticking, 
A thread changing colour, 
Weaving a story, 
A story of healing, 
One stitch at a time.  

Learning to live with long covid has been tough but there have also been some positives; it has forced me to slow down and let go of my perfectionism. I have taken up writing poems and knitting and I now stop to appreciate the joy that can be found in the little things in life instead of constantly rushing! 

Mesmerised: Jo Herman

I emerge from the tube station, people rushing past me ….it feels as if I’m in a movie where I’m walking at normal speed and everyone else is in fast forward. I am struck by how many people there are. The inky sky is clear, the air crisp, and huge baubles are strung from the trees, and between the buildings ahead of me. I look up in wonderment, pausing to drink in this visual treat. I realise just how little I have seen these past 2.5 plus years, how shrunk, and abnormal, my world has become. But I feel joyous and grateful that I am here, that I managed the 10 minute walk from home to the station, the 40 minute tube ride, and still have the energy to walk up the stairs at Embankment, and am now managing the walk to the Coliseum. Previously I would have looked at the incline from the Tube to the Strand and it would have felt like the start of Ben Nevis. I feel very emotional thinking about it, being out in town, doing what I would have regarded as normal and done without a second thought previously. Almost tearful. I stop again just to gaze at the festive scene in front of me… strings of lights decorate windows, a palpable buzz in the air, people outside clutching their drinks, vaping, chatting and laughing: so much joy around. Often, I think of whether it’s time to move out of this city, but in this moment, I wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else… I walk on, slowly taking in everything around me – all so familiar, yet refreshingly new after its’ extended absence from my post-Covid life. Nelson reassuringly still astride his tall column, the grandeur of the façade of the National Gallery behind him, the steps of St Martins in the Fields to my side, irate and impatient cabbies tooting. It’s like coming home after a sojourn away and reminds me of some of the reasons over the years that I have chosen to stay in London (could perhaps do without irate cabbies!). I’m a born and bred Londoner so these sights have been there forever, but, somehow, they feel different.

A text pings into my phone: “I’m at the bar, what would you like?” It’s another founder member of the ‘Culture and Cocktail’ group. We are having our second outing – the first one took place after our trip to La Boheme in January, when after the performance we searched for a place to have a drink that had somewhere I could be semi-horizontal. We found the perfect spot with sofas and exceedingly good cocktails, and thus the Cocktails and Culture group was bourne. I head to the bar; we have only met once in the flesh, but we all chat regularly on WhatsApp, so it is like meeting old friends.

The production of It’s A Wonderful Life was magical and enchanting, the special effects stunning, transporting us all to the snow-filled town of Bedford Falls. I had my reservations about a ‘modern’ opera, but I was soon drawn in to it. The whole thing was faultless, and probably one of the most visually beautiful productions I have ever seen. And there were poignant take home messages as well (if only my LC brain could remember them!): I had goose bumps as the story reached its climax, and was completely mesmerised.

Really I should have gone home after the curtain call, but easily – and happily – led astray, we decide to return to our cocktail place. A short walk and I’m back on that sofa, with decorative cocktail in hand. And so, the second meeting of Culture and Cocktails takes place. On the train home I wonder how many other groups have evolved into WhatsApp sub-groups and if they also have some fun names. Do they meet up? How has their WhatsApp journey been?

Our initial group of 20 has shrunk to a die-hard group of about 8. But in the 18 months of togetherness we have supported each other through trials and tribulations, shared each other’s stories and coping strategies, laughed and cried together, picked apart employment law amongst other things: we’ve been an invaluable resource and lifeline for each other. But fundamentally it has been about connection. Many of us have had very little medical help, but as a group we have been a constant in each other’s’ lives, there if needed. And for all that, we have ENO to thank. A long-term illness can be so isolating; many of us have not been able to work, or connect socially in the way we used to – our lives have been suspended. But connection of any kind is precious, and as humans it is fundamental to our lives.

I get home late, but am on a complete high, ecstatic that I have managed the evening out – not just the opera but the after ‘party’ too. I’ve had plenty of evenings out to friends nearby, but tonight was something different: it reminded me of the world out there, the one I used to belong to, and makes me realise how much I desperately want (and need) to expand my horizons again. For too long I have felt that I live in some twilight zone, caught between life as I knew it and the life I am forced to now lead. I don’t know how long it will take me to recover from the outing (back in January after La Boheme it took nearly five days to feel vaguely ok, but I didn’t care, it was worth it all). But I know this will feed my soul for the rest of the week – and beyond.

Long live the ENO! Long live Culture and Cocktails!… and let’s all go to Bedford Falls for next Xmas.

A huge thank you to everybody who contributed content for this issue. Please do get in touch with any ideas or submissions that you would like to be considered for future newsletters. This can include poetry, prose, artwork, or anything else. If you want to write something but you’re not quite sure what, please do get in touch at [email protected] to chat about it. 

– Joanna Herman, Content Curator